Double Exposure. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      Hugh took time to appreciate a woman’s good qualities, but he searched for at least one flaw to keep him from going overboard and falling in love. Whenever he felt his objectivity slipping, he concentrated on that flaw until he no longer had the urge to spend the rest of his life with the current object of his affection.

      He wasn’t shy about announcing his own shortcomings, either, so that the women in his life could take the same preventative measures. He wasn’t wild about cocktail parties and he didn’t like board games. He wasn’t much for cards, either, and if someone suggested playing charades, he’d been known to vacate the premises.

      Even worse as far as some women were concerned, he had a lousy memory for special occasions. He liked giving gifts but they didn’t necessarily arrive on the appropriate day. But his biggest fault, at least for most of the women he’d dated, was his refusal to fall in love with them or talk about the possibility of commitment. He wasn’t into that, but a few had thought they could change his mind.

      He understood where they were coming from. The atmosphere in Hollywood encouraged falling in love—not so much with a person as with the fantasy image that person projected. His friends were always doing it, from megabuck stars to bit players. Then they inevitably discovered the person behind the fantasy and fell out of love again.

      If Hugh was convinced he’d fall out of love, he might risk it. His real fear was that once he let down his guard he’d end up in so deep he’d never get out. Whenever Kate smiled at him, that fear took him by the throat. He needed to discover a flaw in her, and he needed to discover it fast.

      Unfortunately he didn’t have anything against photographers. He’d always admired the profession, because without it those who worked in front of the cameras wouldn’t have a job. He also liked the restless spirit that was driving her to build a portfolio of candid shots. Even if she wouldn’t admit it, she was ready to leave the confines of studio photography for a less controlled atmosphere.

      He’d love to see her latest work. With some of his connections in L.A., he might be able to…whoa, bad sign. One of the safe things about Kate was her location, clear across the country from him. He definitely should not be dreaming up ways that she could eliminate that comfortable distance between them by landing some photo assignments in L.A.

      No, he needed to find something wrong with her, and all he could see were her good points. She had such energy. He didn’t often find someone with energy to match his own.

      Of course, she didn’t know he could match her energy, because at the moment he was operating at a low-battery level. If he’d known she was waiting for him at the end of the plane trip, he would have found a way to tune out the motormouth who’d sat next to him and kept him awake the whole flight.

      No doubt about it, Kate was terrific. He’d become fascinated with the way her short hair created swirls of bright color each time she moved her head. Until this moment he hadn’t cared much for short hair on a woman, but it suited Kate perfectly. He wanted to run his fingers through all that riot of color—tongues of fire he’d love to bum his hands on.

      And speaking of tongues, she had an adorable habit of sliding the pink tip of hers along her upper lip and tilting her head to gaze at him, which made her look both mischievous and sexy as hell.

      He grabbed a towel to dry his face just as a sharp knock came at the door to the cottage. Grinning, he walked to the entrance. No timid little tapping for Kate Cooper. “Who is it?” he called out.

      “Room service,” she called back, sassy as can be.

      He swung open the door. “Took you long enough.”

      She breezed in, bringing with her the aroma of hot marinara sauce. “You might as well know the worst thing about me.”

      Good. She was going to announce a flaw, which he desperately needed to hear about. “What’s that?”

      Her gaze flicked over his bare chest and her cheeks turned pink.

      He hadn’t meant to be provocative, but her blush indicated that his semi-nudity was affecting her. “I’ll go get a shirt,” he said.

      “No, that’s okay,” she said quickly, too quickly.

      “I meant to put one on, but when you knocked, I—”

      “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” She took a quick breath. “In fact, I thought after we finished eating I’d give you a massage.”

      His pulse quickened. “You did?”

      Her cheeks grew even pinker, but she rushed bravely on. “That’s the best thing for your neck and shoulders, better than the hot tub, and I have some training, plus I’ve had a whole bunch of massages myself, so I think I could do a good job.”

      “You don’t have to convince me.” He was overjoyed. One particular part of his body was extremely overjoyed, and he’d have to work on keeping that bad boy under control. “I’d love it.”

      “Great. Then let’s eat.” She put her other paper sack on the floor and began unpacking the sandwiches and drinks from the first one.

      He had a sudden attack of remorse. “I didn’t give you any money for this.”

      “I didn’t expect you to.” She motioned him to a chair. “Have a seat. I have hot pastrami and hot Italian meatball. You can have either, or some of both, or—”

      “Some of both, and I want to pay for this. I invited you to dinner, remember?” He must really be tired to have forgotten the money thing.

      She shook her head. “This is my treat, considering that I was so late picking you up. That’s what I started to tell you, the really bad thing about me.” She divided each sandwich expertly in half before pushing the wrapper containing his portion towards him.

      He needed to hear this fatal flaw of hers. Later he’d figure out what to do about picking up the tab for this meal. Sitting down, he glanced across the table. “So what about you is so terrible?” He hoped it would be atrocious.

      Before sitting down, she gave each of them a soft drink and a straw. “The main thing that drives Kim and my friends nuts is that I tend to run late most of the time.” She jammed her straw through the cup’s plastic lid. “It’s a bad habit that I can’t seem to break. I try to cram too much into my schedule. That’s why I was late coming to the airport. And I made a detour while I was getting the sandwiches, so that took longer than it should have, too.”

      “You weren’t that late.” Damn. Lateness wasn’t a particular problem for him. He’d spent a great deal of time hanging around the set waiting for this actor or that one to show up, or for the director to arrive, or for the animals to do the stunts they were trained to do. He’d learned early that in order to stay sane he had to become patient and forget about the clock.

      “Try having it happen all the time. You’d get irritated.” She bit into her sandwich.

      “Maybe so.” He started in on his sandwich, too. He wished he could buy into this lateness problem of hers, but as a fatal flaw, it lacked punch. He was too good at coping.

      “Kim’s threatened me with bodily harm if I’m late to the wedding, but I’ve promised her I won’t be. I mean, that’s too important to mess СКАЧАТЬ