Dunn Brothers
Twin Brothers Max and Isaac found fame growing up on television. Now adults, one of them is hellbent against acting, while the other is making a comeback.
“I loved every word of Million-Dollar Mix-Up!”
EXCERPT from million-dollar mix-up
Steeling herself for laying eyes on Isaac’s identical twin for the first time, she straightened her back and knocked on the door.
And waited.
After what seemed like a very long time of jumping up and down to keep warm, she heard shuffling coming from inside. She pictured him unkempt, maybe with a scraggly mass of overgrown hair, pot belly, perhaps wearing a stained T-shirt. Then the door swung aside and blew her vision to smithereens.
Max filled the threshold with his hulking, dark presence. His hair was a bit long, but he was well- groomed, from the top of his head to a thick, dark beard. He was fit and trim, a waffle-pattern dark blue Henley stretched over his flat belly. The rest of his outfit was standard Paul Bunyan attire: a flannel and jeans, and he wore both very, very well.
Kendall’s smile fell, her eyes roaming over him before once again landing on his face. Then they froze there, much like she was freezing on his covered patio, but the sensation of being under his stare was infinitely more pleasant.
She blinked at the rugged replica of Isaac Dunn, momentarily at a loss for words. Max was, after all, Isaac’s identical twin so she’d expected them to look alike. What she hadn’t expected was a blast of attraction hitting her like air from a hot oven. Especially when it was this freaking cold outside.
While Isaac was without a doubt an attractive guy, so were a lot of the guys in Hollywood. Seeing an attractive male specimen wasn’t a rarity in LA. She could throw a rock and hit a smirking, godlike male, ranging from golden to bronze in color, and representing every precious metal in between.
She’d objectively appreciated the attractiveness of Isaac’s strong nose, his height and his smile, but Max emitted grade-A pheromones like smoke from a roaring fire.
He stood in his doorway, his brow crinkled, his lips frowning behind that perfectly groomed beard. He appeared dark and dangerous, and since her libido had been neglected for the past six months, damn sexy.
She must’ve been more tired than she’d originally thought if she was staring mute at the brother of her client. Snapping out of her shock, which wasn’t hard to do when a gust of frigid wind spiraled through the open porch and wrapped around her legs, she forced a confident smile.
“Max Dunn?” she asked, even though there was no reason to ask. He was clearly Isaac’s twin. “H-hi,” she continued clumsily. “Kendall. Squire. I’m Isaac’s agent. Talent agent.”
Pull it together.
Max’s blue eyes grew darker, his frown deepening. Now he looked like a rugged, angry mountain man, but no less sexy.
He sent a brief gaze down her leather coat to her boots and back up to where snow was melting in her hair. “Everything all right?”
Whether it was the sincerity reflecting in his ocean-blue eyes or fatigue from her long journey here, she wasn’t sure, but she replied to his question with honesty.
“I’ve had a tough couple of months. Years, actually.” Her gaze flitted to a pile of split logs stacked against the side of the house. “But I’ve always been a firm believer in moving forward. One step after the last, you know?”
A dent carved between his eyebrows, then those fantastic, thick brows lifted and he simply stared at her, his expression blank. “I’m sorry to hear of your troubles, but I was asking if everything was all right with Isaac. Assuming that’s why you’re here.”
Heat infused her cheeks as she retraced the conversation. “Oh. Of course. I knew that.” She swallowed thickly, not easy to do with her teeth chattering. “Yes, he’s fine. Great, actually. Well, not great. I mean he’s great, but his career could use a, uh... There’s something going on in LA and we need him, but he’s on an island. That he owns. I had no idea he owned an island.” She couldn’t seem to stop rambling. “Anyway, he’s stuck there.”
“Stuck?” Max’s eyebrows lifted.
“On purpose,” she added. “The pilot is on vacation, which Isaac knew. So, he’s there in a cabana. Or a mansion. I don’t actually know what kind of housing.” She frowned to herself, realizing she didn’t know much about her client at all. Best get to the point. “I need him in LA in two days and he can’t make it, I guess is what I’m trying to say. Which is why I stopped by to see you. I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a minute?”
. . .
