Colton's Mistaken Identity. Geri Krotow

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 want the staff fussing over him before the big premiere. The staff knew their jobs well and never blinked when he’d presented his credit card. He’d noticed a few extra glances here and there, but no one had approached him for a selfie, and no camera phones had been aimed at him. None that he could see, anyway.

      The hotel was remarkable. Unlike so many high-end places he’d stayed in around the world, The Chateau wasn’t just a catchy name. The entire building was styled like a French countryside manor, only larger. The huge fieldstone hearth in the entrance lobby looked like the perfect place to relax après ski, and it proved a good space to hunker down on an overstuffed leather chair, his baseball cap pulled low to hide his face. The coffee was excellent, and he’d enjoyed an espresso this morning but now was sipping a freshly made iced tea. He’d have to go upstairs to his room in a few minutes and get ready for the gala tonight, but right now he was enjoying people watching.

      Prescott liked people, and he gained tremendous satisfaction from playing different characters on film and stage. His film career had soared over the past five years, but given his druthers he’d take a stage production any day.

      The dream he’d nurtured for the past year or so was to open a summer theater back in his Iowa hometown. A place for young kids like he’d been to go and find themselves amid the rich stories playwrights provided, from Greek tragedy to contemporary, avant-garde works.

      A flash of red, the distinct shade he’d first laid eyes on this morning in the copse of aspen trees, caught his attention. The same woman he’d seen on the trail walked past him and began to climb the stairs to the grand ballroom. He knew where the impressive stairs led, as he’d already memorized the layout of the hotel. His privacy had necessitated he know every nook and cranny to escape to if the paparazzi became rabid.

      She wasn’t in running clothes any longer, and her hair was styled to show off the unique hue. From her profile he saw that she was wearing makeup, a little much for his taste, but he was used to being around women who enjoyed dolling themselves up. It was all part of being an actor.

      This woman intrigued him when she shouldn’t. And yet as she’d walked by, oblivious to him, he’d caught a whiff of floral perfume that captured him like a trout in a net. The sight of her profile again, this time with makeup on and offset by the backdrop of the luxurious resort, struck a chord deep inside him. Prescott wasn’t a stranger to immediate attraction but this took it to a new place for him. Besides the obvious physical pull of her beauty, he sensed the potential for something deeper, more meaningful, between them.

      What the heck was going on with him?

      She wasn’t wearing anything exciting, and her business suit didn’t show off her curves as well as her workout clothing had. Still, in the view he had of her backside, there was no denying her very feminine shape under the jacket and dress pants. Insta-lust made him pause, not wanting to get an erection in public.

       You’ve been alone too long.

      After what he’d been through with his ex, he knew better than to even look twice at this stunning woman. But he couldn’t help himself. Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Nor how relieved he’d felt when he’d realized she wasn’t trailing him. It was always in the back of his mind that Ariella could show up again, and her penchant for ugliness wasn’t something he relished. He’d been drawn to Ariella’s intelligence and quick wit. And it had worked for a while, until her true nature of career-climbing at the expense of the men in her life reappeared. Or maybe he’d simply come out of his denial about her dark side. Either way, it had been a rough go of it for his dating life ever since.

      But the redhead... His gut told him to go after her.

      He didn’t entertain the rational side of his brain that told him he was out of his league. That not everyone was impressed by actors, not that he ever consciously used his job or status to seduce a woman. He believed more in allowing an attraction to grow organically.

      This inexplicable urge to talk to the stranger, the only redhead he’d seen at The Chateau, was definitely organic on his part. But would she think he was odd?

      What if she wasn’t available? Preston stopped midway up the staircase. He hadn’t even considered that she might be with someone already. Hell, she could even be married.

       Chill, dude.

      Prescott hadn’t had to go after a woman in years. And he missed it. The constant attention from the opposite sex had been heady when he’d arrived in Hollywood and been cast in his first roles ten, twelve years ago. But it quickly grew old, and he didn’t want to spend time with someone who only saw him as an actor. The redhead clearly worked here or had a role to play in the film fest, so she was probably used to celebrities. Would she see past the Caribbean-blue eyes that had become his trademark? Not that he’d ever expected to be known for his eyes. His dream wasn’t even so much to be recognized for his acting as to be give the opportunities to bring meaningful roles to life. He wasn’t a fan of the celebrity culture that came with it but he understood it was all part of the gig. Except when he wanted a woman to see him as more than a contender for a tabloid’s annual sexiest man.

      He walked through open, massive carved oak doors and into the hotel’s pièce de résistance—the grand ballroom. The floor was entirely parquet but covered with a huge red carpet that ran into its center, where the area delineated for dancing remained clear. Hundreds if not a full thousand round tables framed the open area, the crystal chandeliers catching the fading sunlight, their bulbs still dim. Soon they’d be bright and the room a cacophony of press, actors, studio executives and the teams of people it took to make it all happen.

      It was that rare quiet moment before a major event launched. Right now it was hushed as workers rapidly set tables and moved last-minute lighting equipment into place. A DJ set up in a far corner of the room, her control panel as large as any he’d ever seen in a concert. But in another hour and a half, it would burst to life with an entirely different personality.

      Prescott liked the quiet anticipation before an event. As much as he enjoyed the slow build of desire as he met and wooed a woman into his bed.

      The redhead stood alone in the middle of the room, silently moving her lips as she read from her phone. Her running clothes were gone but she hadn’t upgraded her look that much, wearing easy black pants and a simple pale pink silk shell. Her skin was dewy, and as he’d already noticed she liked her makeup heavy, but on her stunning features it only emphasized her beauty.

      His СКАЧАТЬ