New York, Actually. Sarah Morgan

      Sensing an atmosphere, Harriet stopped and glanced between them, her expression changing. “Have you two had a fight already?”

      How, Daniel wondered, could three siblings from the same family be so different? And how could twins, who on the surface were indistinguishable to most people, bear no resemblance on the inside?

      “Us? Fight? Never.” Fliss’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “You know how much I adore our big brother.”

      “I hate it when you fight.” The anxious look in Harriet’s eyes made him feel guilty and he exchanged glances with Fliss. It was a glance they’d shared a million times over the years. A tacit agreement to suspend hostilities until Harriet wasn’t in the room.

      They’d all developed their own way of coping with conflict. Harriet’s was to hide from it. As a child, she’d hidden under the table to avoid the screaming fights that had been part of their early family life. On one occasion Daniel had tried dragging her out to remove her from the fallout. Her eyes had been squeezed shut and her hands over her ears, as if not being able to see it or hear it might mean it wasn’t happening.

      Remembering how impatient he’d felt at the time, Daniel felt a needle of guilt. They had all been so self-absorbed, his parents included, that none of them had understood what was going on with Harriet. It had become apparent in the most public way possible and even now, twenty years later, he couldn’t think about that evening at the school without breaking into a sweat.

      On the surface Harriet didn’t appear to be particularly tough, but he and Fliss had learned that there were different kinds of tough. Despite appearances, Harriet was made of solid steel.

      He watched as she set the tray down and carefully unloaded plates of food and napkins.

      Napkins. Who bothered with napkins for a casual breakfast with family?

      Harriet bothered. She was the architect of all domestic comfort in the apartment she shared with her twin.

      There were times when he wondered if the three of them would still be a family if it weren’t for Harriet.

      As a child she’d had an obsession with her dolls and her dollhouse. With the insensitivity of an eight-year-old, he’d dismissed it as a typical girl activity but now, looking back, he could see that she’d been constructing something she didn’t have, clinging to her image of home and family when their own had fallen short. She’d found some semblance of stability in her own private world, whereas he and Fliss had found other ways to dodge the cracks and the shifting emotional landscape of their parents’ marriage.

      When Harriet and Fliss had moved into the apartment, Harriet had been the one to make it a home. She’d painted the walls a sunlit yellow and had chosen a rug in muted shades of green to soften the wooden floor. Hers was the hand that arranged the flowers on the table, plumped the cushions on the sofas and tended the plants that clustered together in a junglelike profusion of green.

      Fliss would never choose to own a plant. Like him, she wouldn’t want the responsibility for something that required care and attention. It was the reason neither of them had any interest in a long-term relationship. The only difference between them was that Fliss had tried. Only once, but still it was enough for Fliss to feel she had proved her point. Been there. Done that.

      None of them talked about it. The Knight siblings had learned that the only way to make it through a bad day, a bad month or a bad year was to keep moving forward.

      “We weren’t fighting.” Daniel kept his tone slow and easy. “I was giving her brotherly advice, that’s all.”

      Fliss narrowed her eyes. “When the day comes that I need your advice, I’ll ask. And, by the way, hell will have frozen over at least eight times before that day comes.”

      Daniel stole a piece of bacon from the plate and Harriet slapped his hand gently.

      “Wait until I’ve set the table. And before I forget, Fliss, we had two more jobs sent through from Urban Genie. We have a busy day ahead.”

      “So does Daniel.” Fliss stole a piece of bacon, too. “And he’s not staying for breakfast.”

      “You’re not?” Harriet handed him a napkin. “But I thought that was why you were visiting.”

      Daniel frowned at the implication that he only saw them whenever he wanted to be fed. Was that true? No. He visited because despite, or perhaps because of, his combative relationship with Fliss, he liked seeing his sisters. And he liked to keep an eye on Harriet. But it was true that his visits almost always coincided with food. As long as that food was prepared by Harriet, he was happy. Fliss could burn water.

      “I had a message from the office, so this is a flying visit. But it’s good to see you.” On impulse he stood up and hugged his sister and heard Fliss mutter something under her breath.

      “Yeah, right, use affection. Harry will fall for that.”

      “I’m allowed to hug my sister.”

      Fliss gave him the eye. “I’m your sister, and you don’t hug me.”

      “I don’t have time to spend the rest of my day removing thorns from my flesh.”

      “Fall for what?” Harriet hugged him back, and Daniel felt a rush of protectiveness. He knew she had found her perfect niche in life, but still he worried about her. If Fliss had a problem, the whole of Manhattan would know within minutes. Harriet kept things to herself.

      “How are you doing?”

      Fliss snorted. “Charm alert. He wants something, Harry.” She forked a generous portion of bacon onto her plate. “Cut to the chase, Dan, preferably before I throw up my breakfast.”

      Daniel ignored her and smiled at Harriet. “I need a dog.”

      “Of course you do.” She smiled back, delighted. “Your life is so focused on work, so emotionally empty, I’ve been telling you for years that what you need is a dog. It will give you permanence, something you can really love and connect with.”

      “He doesn’t want a dog for any of those worthy reasons.” Fliss waved her fork, her mouth full of bacon. “He wants a dog to help him score.”

      Harriet looked puzzled. “How does a dog help with that?”

      Fliss swallowed. “Great question, but this is our big brother we’re talking about so there’s the biggest clue right there. He wants a prop. A canine prop. He yells ‘fetch,’ and the dog brings him the girl.” She stabbed another piece of bacon. “Even if you managed to meet this woman with your dog plan, you’d never keep her. What happens when you invite her back to your place and she discovers the dog doesn’t live there? Have you thought about that?”

      “I never invite women back to my place so that isn’t going to be a problem. My apartment is a dog-free, woman-free, stress-free chill zone.”

      “Even so, sooner or later she’ll find out you’re not a dog person, and then she’ll leave.”

      “By then I’m sure we’ll both have had enough of each other, so that sounds perfect to me. It will be a mutual parting of ways.”

      “Mr. Heartbreaker. Don’t you ever feel guilty that you’re leaving a trail of sobbing women around Manhattan?”

      Daniel released Harriet. “I don’t break hearts. The women I date are exactly like me.”

      “Insensitive and obtuse?”

      “He isn’t insensitive.” Harriet tried to keep the peace. “He’s a little afraid of commitment, that’s all. And so are we. Daniel is hardly alone in that.”

      “I’m not afraid of commitment,” Fliss said blithely. “I’m committed to myself, my happiness, my personal growth.”

      “I’m not afraid either.” Daniel felt sweat prick the back of his neck. “Am I cautious? Yes, because that’s