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Brooke and Melanie Chandler are so different it's hard to believe that they're sisters, much less twins. One is a serious, brilliant prosecutor; the other a golden, glamorous  supermodel.

The sisters were close once, joined by the wondrous bond of twins, until the realities of life - and of their differences - tore them apart.  Melanie and Brooke are women now. Can the once-shared closeness be rediscovered? Or have the jealousies and bitterness of the past irrevocably severed the bond?

The wishes of the twins' hearts are perilous enough, but there's true danger, lethal danger, for an obsessed killer has one of them in his sights.


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Love, passion, danger, and betrayal amid the glitter of Manhattan . . .


     As Melanie gazed into the golden pond of champagne, her reflection shimmered back at her in honey ripples.

     Her reflection and another.

     “Do you know the legend of Narcissus?” he asked.

     It was a taunt, a reminder of her vanity.

     Yesterday’s gentle early-morning moments in the park were a mirage, after all.

     “I'm not admiring myself.”

     “Neither was Narcissus. He was a twin. He and his sister looked very much alike. When she died he spent endless hours gazing at his reflection because it reminded him of her.”

     “I always thought . . . wasn’t there something about a wood nymph named Echo?”

     Charles smiled. “There are two versions of the myth. The mythologists are divided to this day.”

     “Poor Narcissus. What a bad rap. Hard enough to be a twin.” Melanie spoke without thinking. Here she was, telling Charles Sinclair the truth again.

     “Hard enough,” he agreed easily.

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