Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [163]
"My name is Julia DeMarco. And if you're Alex Manning, I want to ask you about a photograph I saw at the Legion of Honor today. It was taken by your father—a little girl standing behind the gates of an orphanage. Do you know the one I'm talking about?"
He didn't reply, but she saw the pulse jump in his throat and a light flicker in his eyes.
"I want to know who the little girl is—her name— what happened to her," she continued.
"Why?" he bit out sharply.
It was a simple question. She wished she had a simple answer. How could she tell him that she couldn't stop thinking about that girl, that she felt compelled to learn more about her? She settled for, "The child in the picture is wearing a necklace just like this one." She pulled the chain out of her purse and showed it to him. "I thought it was odd that I had the same one."
He stared at the swan, then gazed back into her eyes. "No," he muttered with a confused shake of his head. "It's not possible."
"What's not possible?"
"You. You can't be her."
"I didn't say I was her." Julia's heart began to race. "I just said I have the same necklace."
"This is a dream, isn't it? I'm so tired I'm hallucinating. If I close the door, you'll go away."
Julia opened her mouth to tell him she wasn't going anywhere, but the door slammed in her face. "I'm not her," she said loudly. "I was born and raised in San Francisco. I've never been out of the country. I'm not her," she repeated, feeling suddenly desperate. "Am I?"
Chapter Two
Alex could hear the woman talking on the other side of the door, which didn't bode well for his theory that he was dreaming. That blond hair, those blue eyes, the upturned nose—he'd seen her features a million times in his mind. And now she was here, and she wanted to know about the girl in the photo. What the hell was he supposed to say to her?
Don't ever talk to anyone about the photo or the girl.
His father's words returned to his head. Words that were twenty-five years old. What would it matter now if he broke his promise? Who would care? For that matter, why would anyone have cared?
He'd never understood the frantic fear in his father's eyes the day the photo had been published in the magazine. All Alex knew for sure was that he'd made a promise in the last conversation he'd had with his father, and up until this moment he'd never considered breaking it.
His doorbell rang again. She was definitely persistent.
Alex opened the door just as she was about to knock. Her hand dropped to her side.
"Why did you say I was her?" she demanded.
"Take a look in the mirror."
"She's a little girl. I'm an adult. I don't think we look at all alike."
He studied her for a moment, his photographer's eye seeing the details, the slight widow's peak on her forehead, the tiny freckle by one eyebrow, the oval shape of her face, the thick, blond hair that curled around her shoulders. She was a beautiful woman, and dressed in a short tan linen skirt that showed off her long, slender legs, and a sleeveless cream-colored top, she looked like a typical California girl. He felt a restless surge of attraction that he immediately tried to squash. Blondes had always been his downfall, especially blue-eyed blondes.
"Did your father know the little girl's name or anything about her?" she persisted.
"He never said," Alex replied. "Can I see that necklace again?"
She opened her hand. He stared down at the white swan. It was exactly the same as the one in the photograph. Still, what did it mean? It wasn't a rare diamond, just a simple charm. Although the fact that this woman looked like the orphan girl and had the necklace in her possession seemed like a strong coincidence. "What did you say your name was?"
"Julia DeMarco."
"DeMarco? A blond Italian, huh?"
"I'm not Italian. I was adopted by my stepfather. My mother said my biological