Colton's Mistaken Identity, page 7
“No, wait!” Skye reached out and grabbed his hand, held it with both of hers. When she looked at him again, the lines on her forehead were gone and her lips were turned up without the tremulous quakes he’d noticed earlier, right after she’d knocked his tooth out. “I want to go with you. For a walk.”
His gratitude was more akin to elation, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.
Skye was clearly a woman who needed things done at her pace. If he pushed too hard, too soon, his gut told him she’d sprint off like a deer. Prescott stopped analyzing and enjoyed the feel of her soft, warm hand in his as he led her down to the garden.
* * *
Phoebe never knew that portraying her sister would make her life perk up in the romance department as quickly as it had today. In a few short hours, she’d met and been asked on a date by Hollywood hunk Prescott Reynolds. And now he wanted to spend alone time with her in The Chateau’s Luxembourg Garden, her mother’s pride and joy.
Scents of roses assaulted her as they made their way around the carefully tended landscaping, and she’d never felt safer. At least not since the Avalanche Killer had destroyed her sense of well-being.
Skye’s still missing.
No, Skye wasn’t missing, Phoebe reassured herself yet again. Her twin was just purposely staying away from Roaring Springs while she nursed her broken heart. Phoebe would only have to pretend to be Skye for a day longer, she hoped. Playing the expert at casual dating didn’t come naturally to Phoebe, as she needed to get to know someone well before she made any kind of commitment. And her work at The Chateau had kept her life full, save for the romance part.
It was incredibly tempting to allow herself to embrace her attraction to Prescott. Phoebe couldn’t blame anyone but herself for her quiet dating life, but why not take advantage of having some fun? What did they say—no harm, no foul?
Prescott was a man of the world who dated many women, if the tabloid reports were even fractionally true. Posing as Skye, Phoebe would just be another woman he’d have a week of mindless fun with. And when her twin came back, she’d fill her in on what had happened, if anything.
It seemed a sound plan, except for the sick feeling of betrayal in her gut over lying to Prescott. She liked what she knew of him so far and didn’t want to keep pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
“Did you grow up in Roaring Springs, Skye?” They’d walked to a secluded spot under a huge oak tree. He leaned against the tree and she stopped, leaving a gap between them, even though they still held hands.
“I did. I’ve also had the opportunity to travel and I went away to college, so I know there’s more out there in the big world. But I love it here and have never seen anything as beautiful as our mountain.”
“The recent news has to be terrible for you.” His voice was full of compassion. Was this the real Prescott, or had he acted the part of the empathetic listener so often that he played the role perfectly?
“Wait—what recent news?” Mara had been clear that she was to keep the Avalanche Killer case quiet as much as possible.
“The Avalanche Killer. My security detail briefed me on it, and I read a report online this morning.”
It was no use, the news was out. Their reservations had tanked, initially, but had picked back up with no further murders. People hoped the tragedies being discovered had stopped the killer.
“It was an awful time. It still is, and will be, until they catch him. He murdered my cousin Sabrina. We don’t even have the body yet to do a proper burial, as it has to be examined.”
“I’m so sorry.” And she decided to accept his condolence as genuine. Because everything about him so far seemed real, full of purpose.
“Thank you. We’re managing. I have complete trust in RSPD and the sheriff’s office, and as you could see tonight, they’re not taking any chances.”
“I do have to say that while I’m used to high security at events, the proportion of uniformed security seemed a lot higher than I’d expect.”
“Well, there were plenty of plainclothes security officials, too. Our resort runs a top-notch security team.”
“I know they do.”
“You do?” What had Prescott had to do with The Chateau’s security?
He nodded, a shaft of moonlight hitting his dark hair as he moved. “I have my own security detail, who you might have noticed, for every public event. A bodyguard and a backup. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the reality of life in the public eye today. They have nothing but good things to say about your security.”
“They have been like part of our family, really. As long as we’ve been here at The Chateau, they’ve looked after my sister and me.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes, Sk—Phoebe.” Crap, she’d almost blown it! “She’s my quieter self, truth be told. Phoebe is a behind-the-scenes type of person. She works the books and manages all of the events, their production, etc.”
“Are you identical twins?” Again, genuine interest in his gaze.
“We are, although our personal styles are quite different.” Phoebe licked her lips and tugged her hand free of his. He’d start to suspect she was lying if her palm began to sweat...and that would ruin everything.
“It’s okay, Skye.” Low and gravelly, she felt his voice all the way down to between her legs, where desire pooled into a liquid heat.
“What’s okay?” Her voice sounded so breathy, so unlike her usual in-charge self. Being Skye might lure a man in, but who was she to think she could sexually spar with a powerhouse like Prescott?
He reached across the foot or so between them and grasped her waist, pulling her in closer, but not touching. They were a breath apart. Or maybe it was a cry apart, as she felt as though she’d have an orgasm on the spot if he touched her any more intimately. The man had her tingling all over, and not from the anxiety she occasionally suffered. This was pure chemical reaction.
“I know you’re nervous. You’re wondering if you can trust me, if I’m going to use you for tonight or this week, then leave without a trace.”
“That has crossed my mind, yes.” She was pure Phoebe now, as Prescott’s gaze reflected the moon with startling brightness. Her knees shook, and she knew he felt it in her trembling arms.
“It’s scary for me, too. I’m coming off a bad breakup, and I’ve had my share of women who’ve used me for my position.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“It can be. Part of the job. But it puts us on a more even playing ground, doesn’t it?”
There was nothing about the ground that felt even to Phoebe. Not with this gorgeous man wooing her, making her feel things she hadn’t in...ever. She’d never felt this kind of deep, awe-inspiring attraction to a man before.
“What do you mean by that?” Her lips ached for the pressure of his against them, but she had to keep talking, keep him talking. Because once they stopped, there was only one place to go. Would it be as incredible as she anticipated?
“We both are at risk of being hurt.” He drew her infinitesimally closer, breaking through any remaining resolve she deluded herself she had against becoming romantically entangled with him, at least as Skye. “Which, as I see it, means we both have the utmost to gain. This could be perfection between us.”
She leaned in, needing to be closer to him. Wanting him. Prescott finished the journey by gently tugging her hips toward him, his hands moving to cup her buttocks. A moan let loose, and she leaned her head back, gave in to the sheer sexual heat of the moment. She was accepting herself as Skye, so why not toss all caution away and simply enjoy?
His lips were on her throat at the same instant he pulled her up against his erection, leaving no doubt that they shared the same intense desire for one another. Phoebe wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted her face to meet his and kissed him.
Prescott growled against her mouth, his tongue practiced and expertly arousing her to a level of desire she hadn’t dreamed possible. Phoebe’s sexual experience wasn’t nonexistent but had consisted mostly of dating with sex on an as-needed basis. Nothing this overwhelming or passionate.
She reached down and stroked him through his tuxedo trousers, delighting at how aroused she made him. Whether her newfound assertiveness was from playing Skye or because she was with Prescott, she’d have to figure out later. Phoebe didn’t want to miss a single second of this.
“You’re so lovely, Skye.” He kissed her, and she wondered if they needed to go to her room instead of return to the ballroom, but she was still on duty. And could she really go to bed with a man who thought she was someone else, even if her motives were reasonable?
Footsteps sounded behind them, and Prescott broke their kiss, his profile alert as he slowly released her, putting a finger to his lips.
Phoebe knew to not make a sound, but her heart was still pounding from the rush of emotion at their embrace. Fear racked her body with a shudder, and remorse erased the intimacy of the last moments. She could have put them both in harm’s way out here by being distracted.
It was never going to be safe anywhere in the dark, not while the Avalanche Killer threatened Roaring Springs.
* * *
Ariella watched them from the shadows beyond the copse of trees where they were bumping and grinding, and she wanted to spit. Prescott had some nerve, throwing away all they’d shared for some hired hotel help.
Okay, so Skye Colton was part of the family-owned business that made up not only The Chateau, but the entire business structure of Roaring Springs. Skye lived the life of a princess with a father like Russ Colton. She wasn’t the hired help. Still, Skye didn’t measure up to Ariella or any other actor. Prescott didn’t want a woman from backwoods Colorado. He’d left his hick Iowa town and provincial family for the opportunity that only Los Angeles offered.
Silly Prescott. He’d gotten so spun up over her affair with another actor. She’d tried to explain to him that the other man was simply a stepping-stone, a means to an end. It was how things were done in Hollywood, at least for women. Prescott had refused to see how she was helping both of their careers by taking up with the son of a legendary director. Didn’t he realize that she’d have gotten them both roles in that director’s next film? Not that Prescott had to worry about income like she did. Right now she wasn’t able to find a job, thanks to the nasty tabloid reports about her and Prescott’s messy breakup.
But her time, their time, was coming. The furor over how she’d reportedly left Prescott for the other actor had begun to die down, and she expected to land a starring role within a month or so. That gave her a little time to spare—time to make Prescott see how lost he was without her.
A stick snapped somewhere near her, and she jumped. Ariella considered herself pretty damn fearless, but there was a murderer on the loose in Roaring Springs. She’d read that one of Skye Colton’s cousins had been among the murdered. Too bad, so sad. It was to her advantage to have the Colton bitch feeling sad and vulnerable, however. It made her easier to spook, and to capture if need be.
She’d thought the message she’d left in her apartment would have been enough to keep her greedy hands off Prescott. Clearly it hadn’t, as Skye Colton clung to Prescott like the desperate sycophant she was.
Ariella mentally reviewed why she shouldn’t step out of the shadows and stop them, right now. She was the only one who should be in Prescott’s arms, the only one he needed to be kissing like that. Come to think of it, they hadn’t done a whole lot of kissing. It hadn’t been necessary—the sex had been good between them, so who needed all that mushy stuff?
Apparently Skye Colton did, the scheming idiot. What Skye didn’t know was that was that Prescott was simply using her, just as Ariella had used various industry types along the way. Sex was a currency to everyone in Hollywood, and Prescott Reynolds was no exception. He’d get whatever he thought he needed from Skye and be gone at the end of the week.
Ariella didn’t want to wait seven more days to have Prescott back with her, though. Since Skye hadn’t taken her first warning seriously, nor the second one, she was going to have to up the ante to make an unmistakable claim on her man.
Prescott was hers and hers alone.
A rustle of leaves followed by the distinct sound of footsteps startled her, and she quickly looked around for her best escape route. If the Avalanche Killer was out here, she didn’t want to be his next victim. She took one last look at Prescott and the Colton bitch, only to find they were gone.
Good thing, because she would have had to warn them off in case the noises she heard were the murderer. As she ran through the night, to the side road where she’d parked her beat-up car, she silently laughed. Her, save the Colton woman from being killed? Now that was just plain silly. Prescott was the only one she wanted alive, with her.
Whatever it took, she was going to get him back in her bed.
Chapter 6
“That was freaky.” Skye’s gaze stayed on him as she sipped the champagne that Prescott had waiting for her when she returned from the restroom. He watched her lips as she drank and wished he had her alone again, but he’d almost pushed it too far out in the garden. They’d heard a few strange noises while in the midst of their embrace and opted to come back inside the ballroom.
“Did you tell Security?”
She nodded, her hair catching the ballroom chandelier lighting. “They said to not worry, the chances are far greater that it was paparazzi rather than the Avalanche Killer. Not that we can be certain of anything right now.” A cloud passed over her lovely face, and he grasped her elbow.
“Let’s go sit down.” He maneuvered them to an empty table in the back center of the ballroom. Much of the earlier crowd had dispersed, and the band was in the middle of another slow song. There weren’t more than half a dozen couples on the floor, and none of them were VIPs. The main purpose of the festival’s opening night had been served with the red carpet arrival interviews and ballroom gala. He knew the actors were all striving for max shut-eye, as he needed to be. But being with Skye wasn’t something he was willing to replace with sleep. If they hadn’t been interrupted outside, he couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t have suggested they make love on the spot.
Adventurous even for him.
“We can’t go back out on the dance floor, can we?” Skye smiled at him.
“Why not?” He’d jump at any chance to be next to her.
“It’ll get us back to where we left off.”
“I don’t want you to think I usually push things this quickly, like I have been doing with us. But we seem to have something going on here that’s bigger than both of us.” He couldn’t believe he’d said it, but in reality he was giving voice to his thoughts. He’d never been so intensely aware of another woman, not this early in the relationship, if at all.
“Um, yes.” She bit on her lower lip, a tell he’d decided meant she was unsure of herself.
“Skye, is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Wha—why would you say that?” But she didn’t meet his eyes, focused instead on the votive candles that floated in a crystal bowl in the center of the table.
“Is there someone else?” Realization struck him. “You’re with someone already, aren’t you? Damn, I’m batting a thousand these days.” First Ariella, and now Skye, although if Skye were cheating on anyone, it would be her boyfriend. He didn’t like the words Skye and cheating in the same thought.
“No, no, it’s not that. I’m completely single and free.” She frowned. “But I don’t like that you think I’d be the cheating kind, frankly.”
“Anyone can do anything, given the right circumstances.” He knew he sounded harsh and hated himself for it. But Ariella’s betrayal had battered him, and he still felt a little emotionally raw.
Skye’s different.
He agreed with his gut this time. Skye was different from the women he’d casually dated, and definitely from his ex. In such a refreshing way.
“The truth is, there was a bit of a security issue earlier tonight.” Her eyes were steady on him as she let out a long, shaky breath. “My sister and I live here, in living quarters apart from the guest rooms. Someone broke into my apartment—and left me a warning message. I think what they wrote was about you.”
“About me?” His gut tightened in anticipation of the rest of the story. Dread weighed heavy on his chest.
Skye nodded. “Yes. A note was written, with my lipstick, on a piece of cardboard and it said to stay away from ‘him.’”
“‘Him’?” If Ariella was up to her scheming ways, he wasn’t sure she would have left her threats so vague. The last woman he’d gone to dinner with had become subject to a social media smear campaign that his security team had traced back to Ariella’s account, but nothing could be proven after Ariella claimed her account had been hacked. He hadn’t wanted a public legal battle with her, but if she was anywhere near here, and involved in threatening Skye, he’d call in the FBI if he had to.
“I think it meant you, Prescott. I’m not dating anyone else, as I said, and haven’t in a long while. It could be a rabid fan, I suppose. Several of the guests aren’t associated with the festival, except as fans. We’ve never had a serious problem with any of them before, save for the occasional overzealous attempt to get a selfie or autograph.”
He wanted to tell her about Ariella, at least his side of it, since he was fairly certain that she already knew about the breakup. Except Skye had a refreshing air of detachment from the celebrity buzz. He hated to drag her into the ugly side of fame. Although Ariella might have already done just that.
“I’ll tell my security team tonight. They’re working directly with them all week long.”
