Colton's Mistaken Identity. Geri Krotow

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      Sorry but still can’t come back. Need more time. Thanks for handling it all for me. Xx

      Phoebe’s wet hair dripped water onto her phone as she fired a quick text.

      No choice—we need you. Be here by noon, no later!

      Her finger wavered over the emoji keyboard, wondering if their tried and true symbol would work its magic this time. She hadn’t used it since freshman year in college, when she’d found out her roommate was sleeping with the boy she’d hoped to spend the weekend with. Phoebe looked at herself in the steamy mirror and realized that Mara would have to take her from her current nondescript style to Skye’s over-the-top motif. That would mean cutting at least nine inches off her hair and wearing tons of sparkling makeup and equally glittery clothing. No, thanks. Without further hesitation, Phoebe texted back, Get back here or Mara’s going to be the end of me.

      She added the barfing emoji symbol and pressed the send arrow. Skye would know how stressed Phoebe was because she’d referred to Mom by her first name, something they never did to her face.

      * * *

      Prescott had to admit that if he had to deal with his business manager’s constant pressure to make it appear that he was leading the life expected of a successful actor, it was best done from the balcony of his VIP suite. The warm air was dry and the colors of the mountain sharp.

      As was his tone with Jon, his manager, but he was determined to be himself as much as possible, without falling prey to the trappings of celebrity.

      “I’m here to promote the premiere of the film we’ve worked so hard on.” Prescott didn’t want to add the implied period at the end of his statement. Jon knew the deal.

      “We’re only saying that it’s been a year since your big breakup with Ariella, and it would be nice if your fans saw that you’d moved on. Plus it will underscore who was the villain in that relationship.” By we, Jon meant not only Prescott’s agent and the business staff but also the director of the film being showcased in the festival.

      “I don’t give a—” He stopped himself. Regrouped. Made his mind go back to this morning’s hike. The aspens, the breeze, the cute redhead... “You know I’m going to do the best job I can while I’m out here. You also know that press junkets aren’t my forte, but I’m not the worst. As for my ex, she’s not stopped bashing me every chance she gets. I think her reputation speaks for itself.”

      “Just make sure you keep up with your security detail.” Jon’s reminder was warranted—some strange things had happened over the past several months, from weird packages being mailed to his home to random scathing voice mails from Ariella herself. But Prescott still didn’t like to dwell on it.

      “The team’s here, and we’re talking. I won’t go anywhere without them, save for my room.” Which, as it was located in The Chateau, was surrounded by the top security in the business. “I am grateful to stay here this year, away from the throngs. Thanks for setting it up for me.”

      “You’ve earned it, and it’s a nice break from being in downtown Roaring Springs. As small as that town is, it explodes into a mini–New York City for the film festival.”

      Prescott agreed. “Jon, I’m sorry if I’m coming off like a dick. I’d hoped that Ariella and our breakup would be far behind me by now.”

      “Sometimes the media can’t let go of it, Prescott. Either way, anything you can do to be seen with other single women this week would be a plus.”

      Prescott ended the call and any thoughts of finding another actress to connect with. He’d carefully avoided any romantic commitments this entire year, keeping dates to one-night events and eschewing the Hollywood social scene. His ex had done the exact opposite, including getting herself kicked out of bars and fired from her last film set. No wonder she’d amped up her attempts to get his attention—he’d only ever been a celebrity ticket to her.

      If he were to ever get involved with another woman again, as more than a sexual interest, it wouldn’t be with a celebrity.

      That had to be why the image of the redheaded runner kept flitting through his mind. She’d been attractive, mysterious, and he hadn’t recognized her as anyone involved in the industry.

      Prescott didn’t believe in fate.

      He looked around the view of the resort property from his balcony and absorbed as much of the good nature vibes as he could. A small movement in one of the trees caught his eye and he set his mug down, intent to spy a bear or large raptor. It was impossible to tell what he’d noticed from this far away, though, as the tree line began a full half mile from the The Chateau.

      Who was he kidding? The tight knot of apprehension in his gut hadn’t loosened since Ariella had begun her constant attempts to reconnect with him. Now he was getting paranoid, feeling as though she was around every corner, in each dark shadow that crossed his path. She didn’t have the money to travel here, much less stay in Roaring Springs during the film festival.

      No matter how much he tried to approach his anxiety with logic, it never left. Ariella had done more than scar his heart—she’d taught him that you never really knew a person even after you’d lived with them.

       Chapter 3

      The rest of Phoebe’s morning went as planned, with several short meetings with the event staff and regular team to ensure everyone knew what was expected of them. She’d gotten through the ballroom meeting with Mara and told her mother that Skye had texted her back. But she didn’t tell her mother exactly what her twin had said, hoping to delay Mara’s descent into festival madness.

      At ten minutes past noon, however, there was no more stalling. Skye still hadn’t answered back and was nowhere in sight. So she’d been forced to spill the beans to her mom.

      Phoebe gritted her teeth. She was going to make Skye pay the next time she saw her. Maybe for that nice pair of leather-strap sandals she’d been eyeing in The Chateau’s boutique. They were still expensive with their employee discount, but since Skye’s departure at the worst time for the festival meant maximum distress for Phoebe, she figured it was the least her sister could do.

      However, for now, she had to survive her mother’s attempts at making her look like her twin.

      “Hold still.” Mara waved a pair of very sharp shears too close to Phoebe’s eyes.

      “Please, Mom, let Amber do it.” They were in The Chateau’s spa, and Mara had actually canceled a regular client’s standing appointment so that Amber could fit Phoebe in. Mara’s dismissal of a client’s needs underscored the absolute necessity for the festival to go off without a hitch.

      “I’ve got it.” Amber, the spa’s most congenial employee, took the scissors from Mara and motioned for Mara to stand back. She smiled at Phoebe, her white teeth stunning against her dark skin. “We’ll have you Skye-a-fied in no time.” They’d let Amber in on what had to happen. It would be bad PR for word to get out that Skye was out of the area for any reason, and most importantly, Mara didn’t want it to be discovered that Skye had been dumped in such a shoddy manner. To avoid in-depth explanations, it was easiest to let Phoebe play Skye for the immediate future. With so little time and such huge stakes at hand, there СКАЧАТЬ