Colton's Mistaken Identity. Geri Krotow

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СКАЧАТЬ is crazy. It’ll never work. And Skye’s going to show up at any minute.” Her voice sounded a lot more confident than she felt.

      “We can’t count on that, Phoebe.” Mara spoke as Amber snipped away at her crimson locks, the same shade as her twin’s but much longer and straighter. Phoebe wore her hair long and sleek and couldn’t be bothered to blow-dry and curl it for the time it took Skye to get her perfectly natural-looking hairdo to fan perfectly around her face and shoulders. She watched her sodden locks drop onto the protective salon cape that draped from her shoulders and she wanted to scream.

      “It’s official. I’m going to kill my sister.”

      “This isn’t the time to talk like that.” Mara’s quick admonishment made Phoebe cringe. Her mother had been through enough and had the weight of the festival launch event on her shoulders. “It’s only the first day of the festival, and after you cover the press conference and gala red carpet, Skye will no doubt come waltzing in and take over the rest of the week.”

      “You’re right. I’m sorry, Mom. Ow!” Sharp pains ran from her skull to her nape as Amber used a wide-tooth comb on the back of her hair.

      “Sorry, hon, but you’ve got a snag back here.”

      “Don’t worry about it. Just cut away. As long as we got the long ponytail in one piece to donate for children’s wigs, I don’t care what you have to do now.” Phoebe had been meaning to cut her hair for the last several months and she’d found a charity that accepted long lengths to make wigs that helped out kids going through chemo treatments.

      “You’re a champ for doing this for us on such short notice, Amber.” Mara at least had the decency to look apologetic to the hairstylist. As if reading Phoebe’s thoughts, she turned her gaze back to her in the mirror. “You, too, sweetheart. I know you’re already swamped with all the extra business this month.”

      “You’re the one who trained me, Mom. Stepping up is what a Colton does.” Besides, most of what she did was via financial software. Once she set up an event, the invoices usually tracked pretty seamlessly. Automatically. Unlike today, so far.

      “We can’t afford to make a public mistake. Not with the reservations down and the bad news trying to stomp out the good PR we planned for the festival.”

      “I understand, I really do. It’ll work out, Mom. It always does.” Phoebe tried to reconcile the image that emerged with each cut of Amber’s shears to her response. Skye was naturally upbeat and would have sat here laughing at their mom’s concerns, cheering her up in a flash, unlike Phoebe, who considered herself more like a quiet strength in the family.

      Maybe being Skye for a bit wouldn’t be so bad. It might break her out of the social and dating rut she’d been in over the past few months.

      “Are the biggest actors here yet?” Phoebe didn’t think she’d be able to pull a real Skye move and personally introduce herself to the key players ahead of the gala, but she did want to be prepared.

      “Not officially.” Mara watched as Phoebe transformed into Skye. Amber had started to blow-dry her hair using a ridiculously huge round brush, and both Mara and Phoebe were shouting over the dryer’s roar.

      “But?”

      Mara shrugged as she watched Amber brush out a long length of hair close to Phoebe’s temple and curl it backward, aiming the dryer nozzle to set the curl. “Several have checked in under their assumed names.”

      “Do we have Mr. Sherlock Holmes or Ms. Elizabeth Bennett here?”

      “No, nothing that obvious.”

      “Mom? Who is it?” It wasn’t like Mara to be cagey or without information she could trust Phoebe with.

      “The lead.”

      “Prescott Reynolds?” Immediately the image of two aquamarine-blue eyes flashed in front of her mind’s eye. They drew her attention every time she saw a photo of the actor, or caught one of his movies. Tall, with dark hair and a cut body that he’d partially bared in more than one romantic scene, he fit the description of “tall, dark and handsome” but she sensed something else there, maybe true depth to his personality that so far, many of the men she’d dated had lacked. Not that she’d ever admit it to anyone. Phoebe wasn’t one for celebrity culture and gossip—that was more Skye’s department. But he had starred in several historical dramas that she’d adored, not only for the beautiful settings and superb cinematography.

      “Yummy.” Amber didn’t hide her opinion of the Oscar-nominated star.

      “Yes.” Mara spoke so quietly it was only the movement of her lips that conveyed her response over the hair dryer’s noise. She looked at her with the same eyes Phoebe and Skye had. “Prescott is here already, but I haven’t seen him.”

      “Well, we’ll meet him tonight.” Which was soon enough for her. Skye was going to show up, wasn’t she?

      Not if Phoebe went by her twin’s last text.

      Amber clicked off the dryer. “Okay, close your eyes while I spray.”

      She closed her eyes and tried to relax as Amber doled out what felt like half a container of hairspray onto her “Skye” coif. After she was done, her mother and Amber fussed over her makeup application, matching her style exactly to Skye’s. While they were indeed identical twins, their personalities reflected in clothing styles as well as hair and makeup preferences. Skye loved more sparkling shades of eye shadow and lipstick, while Phoebe gravitated toward a more natural, polished look. And while Phoebe had intended to cut her hair after the festival, her cut would have been a fun chin-length bob, not the longish layers that required hot rollers and half a paycheck’s worth of hairspray.

      It didn’t matter, though, as she’d peeked at the finished style and figured cutting off several more inches to attain the bob wouldn’t be a problem. She’d just have to wait until either Skye returned or the festival ended.

      Annoyance flashed in her gut. Why was she so agreeable all the time?

      “Here, let’s use Skye’s favorite perfume on you.” Her mother plucked a round glass bottle from the spa’s vanity.

      Phoebe held up her hands, causing Amber to freeze midair with the mascara wand. “No. I am not going to smell like Skye. Look like her, act like her, fine. Please hand me the clear bottle, that one.” She pointed at her favorite scent, a very light floral with tones of linen. Skye’s signature scent was musky and overtly sensual. Phoebe liked it, too—on Skye.

      For the next hour Phoebe could pretend that the worst thing facing The Chateau and the Coltons was her having to pose as her twin. It was impossible to forget the ever-present fear that smothered her positive ideas whenever she wondered why Skye hadn’t texted back again. Her thoughts kept jumping to the horrible conclusion that the Avalanche Killer had somehow found Skye and harmed her.

       Stop it. She texted back, she’s fine.

      Yeah, staying present by helping Mara and Amber pick out the makeup Skye would wear was a much better place to stay in.

      * * *

      Prescott liked his private time but could only stay in his hotel room for so long. He’d checked in to The Chateau last night under an assumed name, as he didn’t СКАЧАТЬ