She turned toward him. Recognition slammed into his gut. Her eyes were hazel and tilted up at the corner. Her generous mouth was straight, but he knew what it would look like smiling. He knew about the dimple in her right cheek and how her laughter sounded. Five years ago, hers had been the only laughter in this empty house.

Regret followed recognition. Regret for how he’d treated her and regret for how easy it had been to let her go. He’d been the worst kind of bastard. Not only had he broken her heart, but he’d used her to forget.

She stared up at him, her hazel eyes searching his as if he were a stranger. Five years was a long time-they were strangers. They’d always been strangers.

He took in her clothing a second time. She was dressed more conservatively than he remembered. He raised his gaze to her face. There was something different in her expression. A wariness. He grimaced. Why wouldn’t she be wary of him?

“Hello, Stacey,” he said quietly.

She looked startled, then shook her head. “Mr. Hamilton, I’m not Stacey Ridgeway. I’m her twin sister, Erin.” She held out her hand to him.

He took it without thinking. Her skin was smooth and cool. Instead of releasing her fingers, he held on, as if to keep her from bolting. Not Stacey? Was that possible? “You look just like her.”

“We were identical twins.” She glanced at the hand he was still holding. “Mr. Hamilton, we need to talk. May I come in?”

“Of course.” He let go of her, then moved back, pushing the door open wider.

She stepped inside and gave him a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes. He stared at her. They were different. He hadn’t been imagining it. Twins. Had Stacey told him she was a twin? She might have. She’d talked a lot, but he’d never listened. The sound of her words had blocked out the pain and that had been enough. It hadn’t mattered what she’d been saying.

“This way,” he said, motioning to a set of open French doors on the far side of the living room. It was late June and the afternoon sun would be warm on the terrace. Fog rolled in that morning, but had long since burned away.