Iris

This scene is stiff and not in the good way.

Compared to the other notes on the manuscript, this one was relatively short and straight to the point, but I'd rather tackle the plot hole my editor, Shannon, pointed out in chapter six than spend another minute reworking the sexy scene. Writing it the first time was bad enough.

I flexed my fingers over the keyboard, drew in a deep breath, and then slammed the laptop closed. Nope. Later. I had plenty of time.

My phone dinged, and a text from Shannon appeared on the screen. She was requesting my edits as soon as possible since she was going out of town at the end of the month and wanted to work through the changes, which meant I had just three weeks to complete the changes. Usually, that was a generous amount of time, but this was not my usual work.

Dropping my head on top of my folded arms, I instructed my phone to call my sister. The moment I heard her pick up, I wailed, "Remind me again why I agreed to put a sex scene in my newest novel?"

Accustomed to the lack of greeting when I called, she didn't hesitate with her answer. "Because Shannon told you sex sells, and if you wanted to stay relevant, then you had to write spice."

"Yep, that aligns with my memory of that conversation." I raised my head and glared at the computer. "Which is utter bullshit. My last three releases were instant bestsellers, and they were all fade to black."

There was a pause, and I could clearly imagine Ivy twirling a piece of highlighted hair around her perfectly manicured finger. I chewed my nails to uneven nubs, and the only thing I went to the hairdresser for was a trim. Twins we might be, but our DNA was the only thing identical about us.

"Your last book came out a year ago, and the market has changed. Booktok has blown up the spicy book market, and if you want to stay relevant, then you have to write smut."

"Did you write that down? I swear that's word for word what I said when I told you about this book."

She giggled through the phone. "I totally nailed that, right? I sounded just like you."

Back when we were kids, we swapped places all the time, adopting the other's traits and mannerisms with ease. It wasn't until junior high that our differences became too much to mimic, at least for me. While she was mastering the art of makeup and talking to boys, I retreated into books and writing.

"Hey, speaking of sounding just like you, I need to ask you a little favor."

Hairs raising on the back of my neck, I asked, "What is it?"

"I think it would be better if I asked in person."

"Ivy," I groaned.

Over the phone, there was a fifty/fifty chance I would have the nerve to say no, but in person, giving in was almost a foregone conclusion. And Ivy's favors were never little; however, I did need a distraction.

Which is how I ended up sitting at a table outside our favorite coffee shop two hours later. I had been productive to an extent, fixing the little things in the manuscript while nursing an autumn inspired latte. I sent the cleaned up chapters to Shannon, hoping it would occupy her for the time being and make her forget I hadn't agreed to the timeline she'd requested.

I inhaled too deeply and choked on my coffee, just managing to keep the liquid in my mouth while I struggled to breathe. Not a single person looked my way to make sure I was okay, and I tried not to glower at them all with watering eyes. You think I would be used to being a wallflower by now. I was thirty-one years old, for god's sake. Maybe if I didn't have Ivy to show me the potential beneath the sweatshirts and frizzy hair, I might accept I was who I was and move on with my life.

A man at the table beside me sucked air through his teeth, and I looked up to find Ivy barreling toward me, her cheeks flushed and her skin golden from a summer soaking up the sun. Her barely constrained breasts heaved as she fanned herself, pausing a moment to wink at our salivating neighbor, before turning the full force of her charm on me.

Metal chair legs scraped across the stone patio. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's fine," I replied when what I really wanted to say was 'what makes today any different from any other time.'

Her dark brown eyes were oddly bright as she scanned the menu card on the table. I took the opportunity to study her as if I didn't see the same features in the mirror every day. High cheekbones. A straight nose turned up ever so slightly at the end. An overly full top lip with a lightly defined cupid's bow that would've overpowered the bottom lip if not for the slight point in the center that created a soft heart shape. Almond eyes with turned down outer corners and hooded lids she still somehow painted in smokey shadows that made her appear sultry. The one and only time I tried smokey eyes, someone asked me who punched me.

When she hooked a strand of silky, dark chocolate hair behind her ear, I grabbed the end of my thick ponytail and dragged it over my shoulder. Maybe I could ask her who did her highlights. A minor change wouldn't hurt, and the caramel ribbons in her hair were stunning. Except for that one that was a little off color... I leaned in and gasped.

Ivy startled. "What?"

"Are you late because you were having sex?" I hissed.

Her hands went to her chest and patted all over her body. Finding nothing out of sorts, she sniffed her skin, then narrowed her eyes. "Is this some weird twin thing? Like you know because you felt it? Because if it is, you lucky girl. I came three times."

Squirming in my seat and trying to ignore the spike of envy in my gut, I whispered, "No. It's not a twin thing. It's the—the—the jizz in your hair."

"That asshole." She grabbed a napkin and cleaned her hair. "I told him to be careful."

"Oh my god, I can't with you. What did you need?" The man beside me cleared his throat and scooted his chair closer as if to speak, but I threw up my hand. "Just no. Wait until I'm gone. Please."

He muttered something that sounded a lot like frumpy bitch as he returned to his table. Ivy flipped him off. "We're both way out of your league, buddy. You can either get lost, or I can ask to speak to a manager and report you for sexual harassment. Your choice."

A slew of profanities colored the air, but he grabbed his drink and stormed away, disappearing into the busy sidewalk crowd. It never failed to shock me how people jumped to obey my sister. Even when they didn't like it. Ivy would never have a problem writing a steamy, not stiff sex scene. But she was a girl who had quickies before coffee dates. Not a... I shoved it away. I couldn't think about that right now.

"Ok, listen. I know you're going to say no at first, but we both know you'll eventually agree," Ivy began, her hands lifted to stave off my argument. "So let me tell you everything before you talk."

I folded my arms beneath my breasts. "Fine."

"I have an opportunity to go to Europe for three weeks. My friend Nikolai—"

"Is that the owner of the jizz in your hair?"

Ivy paused, her mouth snapping shut as she glared. "You said you would be quiet."

"Sorry. Continue."

"And no. That belonged to Jason. He's just an acquaintance I use to scratch an itch sometimes. You got me off subject."

"Europe. Three weeks. Nikolai."

"Right. Nikolai is going to cover all the expenses, and I'll never get another opportunity like this." She drew in a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks. Here came the favor portion of this equation. "But I'm out of PTO at work."

"No, no, no." Hands fluttering between us, I shook my head. "No."

"Iris! You promised to listen."

"And I did. I know what you want me to do. You want me to pretend to be you for three weeks?"

"Yes. Just at work, and before you give me excuses, you can do the job. You were an admin assistant before you published your first book. You're the one who trained me! It's going to be like riding a bike."

"It's not the work that's the problem." Did she really not grasp why this wouldn't work? "I can't pretend to be you. Everyone will know the difference immediately. Have you forgotten I've actually met Garrett, your boss?"

Just saying his name made my panties wet. That man was six foot four inches of dark-haired perfection. He might be the inspiration for the male MC of my current novel. Most of my fantasies with my battery operated boyfriend featured him as the main attraction. There was absolutely no way I could work with him for three weeks. One look at my face, and he would instantly know how many times I'd come moaning his name.

"No. See, this is why this is awesome. Garrett is going to be gone for a week on his annual camping trip with his brothers, and when he gets back, he has a conference upstate. You will hardly see him. I promise."

"What about Portia?" As in Garrett's head admin assistant, she worked closely with Ivy every day. If anyone could spot the differences between us, it would be her.

"Maternity leave. You literally just have to show up every day so I don't get fired. Please, Iris. You know I need this job until my social media takes off. A trip like this will make me blow up."

"I don't know, Ives... This was something we could do as kids, but we're different now. Not she likes books, and she likes movies different. I'm shy and find corners to hide in. You run to the spotlight. I can't do that."

"Look," she grabbed my hands and squeezed. "You can do it. There's not a lot of spotlight in an office, and when you're nervous, just remember if you do or say something embarrassing, it's me they're laughing at. This could be what you need to get out of your slump. To loosen up! Maybe even get some inspiration to write that spicy scene. I mean, come on, when is the last time you got laid?"

Never.

I swallowed the confession and looked away. As far as Ivy knew, I'd given up the V-card at a frat party in college. It was the only lie I'd ever told my sister, but she wasn't the best at keeping secrets. No one could find out the author of three New York Times Best Seller romance novels was a virgin. My career would be over.

Maybe she was right. Three weeks was all I had to fix the atrocious spicy scene in my novel, and with Ivy sitting in front of me, teasing me about getting laid, I realized the only thing that would make the scene better was experience.

Not that I had any intentions of having sex with anyone in the next three weeks, but Ivy had sex all the time. With men and women. Three weeks pretending to be her, getting in her head, living her life... I might just be able to fake it enough to get Shannon off my back.

"What about this?" I asked, gesturing to my hair and clothes.

"Makeover," she shrieked, dragging me out of the chair and onto the sidewalk. "I have wanted to do this forever."

"Gee, tell me what you really think."

"I think that you, Iris Wilson, are a freaking gorgeous woman with a heart of gold. You just don't have the guts to show everyone. That's what I'm here for. Now, hair first. I already made an appointment."

"What?" The gooey feelings her declaration had stirred in my heart vanished. "You really didn't think I could say no?"

"Oh, don't get your feelings hurt. We both knew you would say yes. Now stop fussing. Nothing is going to go wrong."