Читать онлайн книгу «Double Exposure» автора Vicki Thompson

Double Exposure
Vicki Lewis Thompson
It should have been simple. But when Kate Cooper offered to pick up Harry Armstrong, the best man at her sister's upcoming wedding, at the airport, she never dreamed what she was getting into.How could she have guessed that Harry was so irresistibly gorgeous. Or that the sex between them would be so absolutely incredible. Or that the man in her bed wasn't Harry…Stuntman Hugh Armstrong wasn't aware that his flight coincided with his brother Harry's. And with the reception he received, he didn't much care! Finding himself sinfully seduced by sexy, spirited Kate was a rush like nothing he'd ever experienced! Before he knew it, Hugh was free-falling in love. Which wouldn't have been a bad thing–if only Hugh had been the man Kate thought he was….



“Kate Cooper, where have you been all my life?” Hugh asked
“Right here.” Kate pulled her T-shirt over her head, tousling her short red curls. “Waiting to see what develops.” She tossed the shirt away. “That’s a photography joke.”
“I like it.” He liked more than the joke. He’d always thought black lace was the ultimate turn-on, but white lace had just become his favorite, especially when it cupped breasts as plump and inviting as Kate’s.
She unsnapped her jeans and pushed them down over her hips. Then she paused and glanced at him. “Would you like me to take it a little slower?”
“Maybe later. Right now I just want all that stuff to disappear. I’m dying over here.”
She smiled at him. “I know. When I was checking you out in the bathroom, you were looking…lumpy.” She stepped out of her jeans.
“Lumpy.” Not the most flattering way to describe his package.
“Lumpy is good.” Then Kate reached behind her back, unfastened her bra and let it slide down her arms.
Hugh moaned in total appreciation. “No, honey—” he watched hungrily as she tossed the bra aside “—that is good.”
Dear Reader,
One of the best things about writing a prequel for the COOPER’S CORNER continuity series is that it gave me a chance to go back to my Yankee roots. My family is originally from that area—in fact, my mother’s family still owns a beach cottage on the Connecticut coast. And because everything in New England is so close to everything else, that cottage is only a hop, skip and a jump from Newport, Rhode Island, the lovely waterfront town where this story takes place. Hugh and Kate, my hero and heroine, sure have a terrific (and really hot) time there. I hope you will, too.
This book also gave me a chance to try something new—writing about twins. I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be a twin, and this story line gave me a chance to play with the possibilities. And finally, if all of this wasn’t enough, I’ve had the pleasure of being tucked in between two of Temptation’s finest—Kristine Rolofson, starting off the series with a bang, and Jill Shalvis, delivering the dynamic conclusion (at least until the COOPER’S CORNER continuity series starts up in August).
So spend some time in New England. You’ll be glad you did.


P.S. For information about my upcoming releases, visit my Web site at www.vickilewisthompson.com.

Double Exposure
Vicki Lewis Thompson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Kylie Michelle Thompson.
Welcome to the world, little girl.
Your mommy can let you read this book
when you’re older…say about thirty-five.

Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

Prologue
WHAT HE WOULDN’T GIVE for a hot tub and an even hotter woman.
Hugh Armstrong battled the frigid waves churned up by the studio’s helicopter as he swam toward a perpetually sinking sailboat for the tenth time, a rescue line clenched between his teeth. The film’s ambitious director obviously thought he was the next James Cameron and this shot of Antonio Banderas fighting through the water in the dark would win Oscars all around. Unfortunately it was Hugh doing the swimming, not Banderas.
People imagined the ocean off the coast of Southern California was warm and cozy. Maybe by August it would be, even at this time of night. But this was still June, and a cool June at that. Plus the chopper blades added a windchill factor Hugh didn’t care to think about.
Normally he loved his job, but he had to admit his favorite stunts involved leaping from cliffs and crashing through windows. He was in this profession strictly for the adrenaline rush, and there was nothing scary about this current gig. Nobody would let him drown as he rescued the six actors on board the sailboat.
So instead of the stimulation he craved, he was stuck with boredom and exhaustion. On top of that, he really wanted to catch the eight o’clock plane out of LAX in the morning so he could get a jump start on his weekend in Rhode Island. Attending Stuart and Kim’s wedding would be great, but the real draw was spending time with his twin brother Harry, who was Stuart’s best man. It had been way too long between visits.
Plus he could use a few days off. He could really use a few days off. Another salty wave smacked him in the face, and he vowed this tenth take would be golden. Calling on his reserves, he put on a burst of speed that the director had to love. He made it to the partly submerged sailboat and secured the line quickly, determined that this time the director wouldn’t yell cut as he had nine times before.
The cameras rolled. Hugh lifted his arms to the first passenger, an eight-year-old kid with a bright future in the film industry. The kid leaped into his arms, his fingernail gouging Hugh’s forehead in the process. Hugh didn’t even flinch as he grabbed the line and started hauling the kid back to the pitching yacht that was designated as the rescue boat. The cameras kept on rolling. Thank God. Maybe he’d make that plane, after all.

1
LATE AGAIN.
An old boyfriend had accused Kate of using habitual lateness to add drama to her life. She’d dumped the boyfriend in a fit of righteous indignation, but secretly she’d thought he’d nailed her motivation. Nothing got the adrenaline pumping like running fifteen minutes behind.
Heading out of Providence on the 95 toward the airport in Warwick, her Miata convertible’s top down and the radio blaring, Kate cruised on that adrenaline rush. June marked the beginning of good convertible weather in Rhode Island, and she loved driving with the wind in her hair, weaving her little red car in and out of traffic, making every second count.
In no time she’d exited the interstate and was approaching the airport. She wasn’t worried about successfully completing this afternoon’s errand, anyway. She had a picture of Harry Armstrong in her purse, so if she missed him coming from the gate area, she’d nab him somewhere in the terminal. Hunting him down would be more exciting than standing around waiting for him to show up, anyway.
And look at that. A space near the terminal opened up like magic in the crowded parking lot. Kate whipped her car into the slot and switched off the ignition. Rummaging in her large purse, she found her comb, ran it through her short hair and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror.
After she dropped her comb back in her purse, she picked up her compact Nikon and made sure it was loaded. Taking glam photos in the studio paid the rent, but lately she’d had a thing for candid shots, from the hilarious to the highly dramatic. It was only a sideline—a hobby, really. She hadn’t even shown her growing file of pictures to anyone. But these days she never went anywhere without a loaded camera.
After locking the car, she adjusted her wide purse strap across her chest and headed toward the pair of one-way streets separating the lot from the terminal. She’d always loved this airport. Inside the building, clearly visible through the windows, was a large sailboat in dry dock, as if to announce to the world that this had been a seaport long before air travel was even invented.
She crossed the street at a jog, whisked through the automatic door and ran up the moving escalator, all the while keeping her eyes peeled for Harry. With regret she nixed the idea of grabbing a quick iced latte. Something about airports always made her want coffee.
As she searched the passengers streaming out of the gate area, she fantasized that she was a CIA operative on the lookout for a double agent who resembled Harry. Judging from his picture, he’d make a fine double agent—thick dark hair, square jaw and James Bond-blue eyes. Definitely a good choice for the best man in her sister Kim’s wedding, especially considering that Kate was the maid of honor, so she’d be hanging out with Harry for the next few days. Still, she’d decided not to get her hopes up about him.
No doubt he’d turn out to be a typical urban male with a well-paying job, a late-model Volvo and a cell phone. A decent guy. Well, she craved excitement more than decency. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to meet exciting men.
Men like her grandfather, for example. During World War II, Grandpa Charles left a wife and two young sons to enlist because he wanted to make the world a safer place for vulnerable young families like his. In a rain-drenched foxhole in France, he’d thrown himself on a grenade, sacrificing himself to save others. His incredible act of bravery gave Kate goose bumps.
Now that was the kind of man she wanted—except one that would not actually die. So far, nobody she knew personally had exhibited the sort of bravery modeled by Grandpa Charlie. She had little hope that Harry would, either.
Her mother, however, might decide Harry was Good Husband Material and try to matchmake. Now that Kim was getting married, the pressure would be on for Kate to do the same. After all, they were twins. A couple of days ago their mother had confessed her disappointment that Kate hadn’t found anyone yet, because she’d always imagined a double wedding.
Kim and Kate had exchanged a twin-to-twin look that required no words. They’d both fought to keep from cracking up as they pictured their mother trying to dress them alike, one last time.
They hadn’t been through that torture since their older brother Nick’s eighth-grade graduation. After shredding those little green dresses with garden shears and threatening to do the same to any subsequent matching outfits, they’d been grounded for a month. But their mom had gotten the message.
Digging in her purse for the picture of Harry, Kate scanned the faces of the arriving passengers. She didn’t really need to look at the picture again. She had a good eye for faces. Still, she glanced at it one more time.
He really was a cutie. She vaguely remembered he was some kind of doctor. Yes, definitely a doctor. Kim had said he and Stuart had gone through med school together. He was tall, Stuart had said—easy to spot in a crowd. Kate paused to study the crowd hurrying by. Then she saw him.
Damn, he was more of a hottie in the flesh than in the snapshot Stuart had given her. But the poor guy appeared to be exhausted. He wore jeans, a white T-shirt and a denim jacket, which made him look more like a rock star than a doctor.
The shadow of a beard covering his sculpted jaw indicated he’d had no time to shave before racing for the plane, and she wondered if he’d been at the hospital all night tending to a patient. That was pretty noble, come to think of it. Maybe Harry would fit her criteria better than she’d imagined.
He trudged through the terminal, a leather garment bag hanging from one broad shoulder by a wide carrying strap. When she hadn’t been waiting to meet him, he’d probably assumed he’d have to take a taxi to the hotel. Remorse pricked her. Here she’d been playing tardiness games and he looked ready to drop.
“Over here, Harry!” she called, waving her arm in the air as she dodged through the throng to intercept him.
He didn’t glance her way.
For a moment she wondered if she’d made a mistake. No, that was him for sure. Training in portrait photography had made her acutely aware of the arch of an eyebrow, the curve of a lip. That man was Harry. Maybe he was too tired to pay attention to his surroundings.
She should have been on time so that she could have met him as soon as he’d cleared security. But she’d make it up to him, poor man. She’d give him the VIP treatment for the rest of the day.
Stepping in front of him, she put a hand on his arm. The denim of his jacket was surprisingly soft. Expensive denim, she decided. “Sorry I’m late.”
He looked startled, as if coming out of a daze.
Her conscience nagged her again for giving this guy additional grief and she smiled in apology. “I should have been here earlier. I’m Kate Cooper, Kim’s twin sister. Stuart and Kim asked me to pick you up.”
“Oh!” His expression cleared and he looked pleasantly surprised. “That’s great. I didn’t think anybody—”
“I know, and I feel terrible that I wasn’t on time.” Looking into those weary blue eyes, she just knew he’d been up all night. His voice was a little rusty, too. But it was a nice voice, a deep baritone that probably comforted his patients. She glanced at the garment bag. “Do you have more luggage?”
“Nope, this is it.”
“Good. Then we can head straight to my car.”
“Sounds good to me.” He fell into step beside her.
“Stuart would have been here himself, except something important came up.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that. After all, the guy’s getting married day after tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s exactly the trouble.” She noticed that he’d matched his pace to hers and gave him points for that. Some tall guys took off with ground-eating strides that left her in the dust. So maybe he was considerate, besides being yummy to look at.
“Kim and Stuart are having trouble?” he asked.
“No, no, not that kind.” Kate really liked the sound of his voice. “They just became a bit overwhelmed by all the commotion. My parents flew in from Florida, and my brother Nick came yesterday, and even my cousins Clint and Maureen arrived this morning. Stuart’s mom is here with her new husband, and then Stuart’s dad showed up with his new wife, and Stuart’s two sisters have their hands full dealing with that. Anyway, there’s all sorts of socializing and family intrigue, and Kim and Stuart weren’t getting enough time alone with each other.”
“Hmm.”
Kate ushered him out of the terminal, and each of them paused to put on sunglasses. His wire-framed aviators made him look even more like a star on vacation than a doctor soon to be the best man in a wedding. So far this assignment of hers was beyond excellent. She could hardly wait to motor into Newport with this piece of eye candy in her passenger seat.
“My car’s down this way,” she said. “It’s not far, but if you want to wait here I could bring it around.”
“Do I look that feeble?”
She doubted there was a single feeble bone in his finely tuned body. Most MDs she’d met weren’t this muscular. “No, but you look that tired.”
His smile was wry, and adorably dimpled. “Well, I’m not that tired. Lead the way.”
“Okay.” Mmm. Great smile on this guy. “It’s right down here. The red Miata.”
“Sweet ride.”
“I like it.” Then she remembered how tall he was. “You might be a little cramped, though. Maybe I should have borrowed my cousin’s—”
“Good grief. From the way you’re worrying about me, I must look like something the cat dragged in.”
If she had a cat, it could drag in a specimen like Harry any day of the week. “Not at all,” she said, unlocking her trunk and shoving her suitcase aside. Not knowing what she’d be asked to transport down to Newport the next day, she’d decided to pack some clothes for herself and leave the suitcase at the inn where she’d be staying along with the rest of the wedding party.
That included Harry, of course, which was becoming an increasingly nice thought. “I’m guessing you haven’t had much rest in the past twenty-four hours.”
“You’re right. I haven’t.” He swung the garment bag from his shoulder and settled it in the trunk with a sigh. “I wasn’t even sure I’d make it here.”
“Well, you did, and the good news is that you have tonight to rest up before things get going again tomorrow. Kim and Stuart took the ferry to Block Island and they’re spending the night there by themselves to get their heads on straight before heading into the final stretch.” She closed the trunk and glanced at him to find out how disappointed he was that he wouldn’t be seeing Stuart right away.
He didn’t look disappointed, just bone tired. He nodded. “That makes sense. Good for them.”
Once he started toward the passenger side of the car, she walked around to the driver’s side. “I’ll take you to the inn, and you can just relax there for the evening. No need to get together with any of the family tonight. I think they all planned to go to an outdoor concert, anyway.”
“Relaxing in a cozy inn sounds perfect.”
Kate had already stashed her purse behind the seat and was ready to climb in when she saw a Great Dane sitting at the wheel of a Land Rover parked nearby. The dog looked for all the world as if it could simply turn the key and drive away. The window was down, probably because the owner knew nobody would try to steal the SUV with a huge dog in the front seat.
She had to have the shot. “Can you give me a second?” she asked Harry as she unzipped her purse and pulled out the camera.
“Sure, but—”
“I’ll be right back.” She walked over within range and snapped off a couple of frames. Then she moved to a different angle, shading her lens with her hand. Oh, this was terrific. She talked to the dog, who seemed to be posing for her by putting one hand on the wheel. She stepped closer. This was so wild, so totally—
The blare of the SUV’s horn nearly made her drop the camera as she leaped backward. The darned dog must have slipped and put his paw on the horn. “Don’t do that!” she said to the dog as she edged away, glancing around to see if anybody had noticed.
The dog continued to press the horn. As Kate backed toward her Miata, she began to suspect the dog was trained to honk the horn if anybody came too close. “Okay! I’m leaving!” she called to the dog. “Cut that out!”
Shoving her camera back in her purse, she jumped into the car.
Harry was laughing his head off.
“We’re so outta here,” she muttered, starting the car. “Who trains their dog to honk horns, anyway? Doesn’t anybody use good old car alarms anymore?”
“Guess not,” he said, grinning at her. “So, you’re a photographer, like Kim?”
“Yep.” She backed out and drove toward the exit.
“Freelance?”
“Technically I’m a studio photographer, like Kim. I handle the glamour shots and she’s into kids and pets.”
“What do you mean, technically?”
She hesitated, realizing she’d slipped up by qualifying her statement. When their dad had retired and left his two daughters in charge of the portrait studio he’d built into a fine business, they’d both been thrilled and honored. Kate was still thrilled and honored, except…except she wasn’t having fun with the glamour shots anymore. Been there, done that. Taking the picture of the Great Dane, even with the horn-honking added in, had been fun.
“I guess I meant that’s my main thing,” she said. “But, I’ve started taking candid pictures for the heck of it.”
“Where things aren’t quite so predictable?”
“Right. But studio photography’s rewarding, too. Very rewarding.”
“I’m sure it is.”
She had the oddest feeling that he understood her inner conflict perfectly, yet they barely knew each other. Intrigued by the thought, she glanced over at him. Damn, he was really shoe-horned into her car.
“Is the seat all the way back?” she asked.
He reached for the adjustment. “Uh-huh.”
“Sorry the car’s so small.” She’d been so intent on driving her zippy little convertible on this warm June day that she hadn’t stopped to think about how uncomfortable the car might be for a man who was at least six-three. Kim would have thought of that. Kim wasn’t so focused on pizzazz, which was why she liked family photography so much.
“Kate, after what I’ve been through, it’s minor.”
“I’ll get you to the inn as quick as I can.” While they waited in a line of cars to get past the ticket booth, she switched off the radio. He might like to sleep on the way to Newport, if he could possibly sleep crammed into the seat like that.
As they reached the booth, Harry lifted up slightly from the seat and took his wallet from his hip pocket. “Let me get the parking fee.”
“Absolutely not! It’s bad enough that I was late picking you up.” But in fumbling behind her seat for her purse, she nudged against his very solid body and discovered the close proximity made her breathless, and as uncoordinated as she’d ever been in her life. She should have taken the money out before she’d started the car. Kim would have done that.
The parking attendant cleared her throat.
While Kate was still twisted around digging in her purse for her wallet, Harry reached across her and handed a bill to the attendant.
“Thank you, sir.” The attendant gave him his change.
Kate abandoned the struggle for her wallet and glanced over at him. “Thank you for paying, but you’re making me feel extremely guilty. Let me buy you a drink sometime this weekend.”
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
She pulled away from the booth and slid the car smoothly into traffic, which was a small blessing. As jittery as she was feeling, she didn’t trust her reaction time. The best man had quite a smile on him. Kim and Stuart had said he was a really nice guy. They hadn’t said one word about him being a lady-killer.
That could be explained, of course. Stuart might not say something like that anyway, being a guy, and Kim was so crazy about Stuart she was likely oblivious to every other man on the planet. Still, Kate would have appreciated a warning from someone. The snapshot she’d carried to ID him didn’t begin to capture his animal magnetism.
A more trained photographer—like her, for example—would have nailed it. She’d love to have a chance to try, but she doubted there’d be any time for a formal sitting. Still, she’d become pretty good at getting shots on the fly.
He leaned back, his neck supported by the headrest. “The sun feels great. Sure beats the heck out of swimming through cold water for six hours.”
Kate did a mental double take. “Why were you doing that?”
“I had to pull six people out of a partially submerged sailboat. It took most of the night.”
Her jaw dropped. “That’s…incredible.” It was more than incredible. Not only had he spent the night rescuing people from a shipwreck, he spoke about it as if it were all in a day’s work. A chill ran down her spine. Had she finally found her hero?
“At least it went well. But the helicopter kept getting too low and churning up the water even worse, which made everything tougher. But hey, it’s over. And I made it to Stuart and Kim’s wedding, after all.”
“I’m sure they’re going to really, really appreciate that.” A certified hero was going to be the best man at Kim’s wedding. Hours ago he’d risked his life to save six people, and now he was riding in her car and would be spending the next four days in Providence. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she knew one thing for sure. She planned to make the most of this opportunity.
“I’m glad I could come,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to close my eyes and relax for a little while. I tried to sleep on the plane, but my seat-mate kept trying to have a conversation.”
“I’ll be quiet as a mouse.” Kate was so glad she’d turned off the radio. Taking her foot off the gas, she allowed the car to ease back within the speed limit. She’d drive all the way to Newport in the right lane, letting cars whiz past her. No way was she taking a chance on jostling such precious cargo. “Just rest,” she said to her hero. “I’ll let you know when we get there.”

HUGH ARMSTRONG closed his eyes and gave thanks for this little bit of heaven—riding under a warm sun while sitting next to the prettiest redhead he’d seen in quite a while. Since he was surrounded by glamour every day, that was saying something.
Maybe part of Kate’s appeal was that she wasn’t in the business. She wasn’t trying to parlay her beauty into a starring role, so she could afford to be more casual about her traffic-stopping looks. Or maybe he’d been swept away by the animation on her face and she wasn’t all that gorgeous.
Opening his eyes a fraction, he studied her again. Yeah, she was one-hundred-ten-percent babe. Probably used sunscreen to protect that flawless complexion, especially if she made a habit of driving with the top down. These days he couldn’t tell if a woman’s hair color was real, but in this case he’d guess that it was. She’d adopted the short, breezy style that was so popular, and she had just enough curl to turn those locks into tongues of flame whipped by the wind.
A white knit T-shirt, cropped at the waist, fit like a second skin. Hugh happened to love that look for obvious girl-watching reasons. Her hip-hugger jeans showed off a slice of midriff that made his mouth water. She wore open-toed mules. He couldn’t see them now that her feet were tucked under the dash, but he remembered that her toenails matched her fingernails—both painted a wicked shade of red.
Five gold bracelets jingled on her right arm whenever she turned the wheel, and her hoop earrings were gold, too. She wore several rings, but her left ring finger was conspicuously bare. Good. Soon he’d find out whether or not she was in a relationship. If not, this could be one fine weekend. He closed his eyes again.
Usually he could sleep anywhere, but her sexy perfume kept him on the edge of wakefulness. She hadn’t mentioned Harry. He wondered if sending Kate to the airport had been Harry’s doing. Hugh had left a quick voice mail for Harry right before takeoff, not sure when his brother planned to leave Chicago.
Maybe Harry had picked up the voice mail and relayed Hugh’s arrival time to the Coopers. He might even have suggested Kate for the pickup. Harry knew Hugh’s weakness for green-eyed redheads. So did Stuart, for that matter. They could easily have cooked this up together as a fun surprise.
Hugh thought Harry was supposed to get in today, too, but he could easily have been delayed. That happened a lot with him, because women never seemed to have their babies when they were supposed to.
Hugh understood that kind of topsy-turvy life. If the James Cameron wanna-be had decided the sequence wasn’t good enough, Hugh would have been back in the water tonight getting wrinkled up like a prune again.
Instead he might be able to spend time with Kate Cooper, twin sister of the bride. He sure could use an in-room massage, though, and the inn might not offer that kind of service. He’d seriously overtaxed his muscles retrieving those folks from the boat, and he’d had no time to stretch and recover before heading to the airport. Five hours on a plane had left him stiff and sore.
That could cramp his style, and he wanted to be in top shape, just in case Kate happened to be available and willing to have fun this weekend. If Kim was even half as foxy as Kate, Stuart had done himself proud. Hugh was happy for him, if that’s what Stuart wanted.
Personally, Hugh thought getting married was just asking for trouble. He’d once heard that creating a family meant providing hostages to fate. He couldn’t agree more, and he didn’t want to give fate that kind of power.
Worrying about a wife would be scary enough, but if he ever had kids, somebody might as well shoot him and get it over with. He’d be a mass of nerves if he ever had kids, considering all the dangers they faced these days.
No, he preferred staying free of those kinds of entanglements. Besides, he had a risky job, and he didn’t think a wife and kids should have to live with the knowledge that he might not come home someday.
But the risk was all-important for him. For a few seconds after finishing a stunt, he felt invincible, and the addictive nature of that feeling kept him coming back for more and taking even greater chances. Because of that he was in demand. He’d done a few jobs others had refused.
That didn’t mean he was foolhardy. He kept in shape, and he always expected to come through unscathed. But accidents happened. Timing wasn’t always perfect. Everyone connected to a picture tried to be careful, but they all knew that the danger couldn’t be eliminated. If it could, they’d let the stars perform the stunts themselves.
All in all, he loved his life. It was a glamorous world filled with excitement and beautiful women. Many of them sought the same brief, thrilling affairs that suited his lifestyle and personality. He wasn’t sure about the rules back here in Rhode Island, but he meant to find out. He was free at the moment. If luck was with him, Kate might be, too.

2
KATE TURNED INTO THE parking area adjacent to Townsend House, the renovated Colonial inn that had opened a bare two weeks ago. Eagle-eyed Kim had spotted it when she and Kate were searching frantically for accommodations for the out-of-towners attending the wedding. By June most places were booked, but this place was not only available, it offered them grand opening discounts.
The wedding itself had been put together inside of a month, a speed that had left even Kate breathless. A few tongues had wagged, saying that anyone who got engaged in May and married in June must have a reason, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Kate thought Stuart and Kim had the best reason of all for a speedy ceremony. They were crazy about each other and couldn’t wait to make it official. Such reckless abandon was unusual for Kim, but it was exactly the kind of drama Kate loved.
Townsend House had started life as an inn back in 1702, and evidence existed that Benjamin Franklin had slept there. Now the building had been returned to its original grandeur, and its narrow clapboard siding gleamed with fresh white paint. Wedgwood blue shutters and window boxes filled with pansies satisfied both Kim’s and Kate’s finely tuned aesthetic sense. Rooms on the front of the house faced the harbor, while rooms on the back looked out on a flourishing rose garden and the luxurious honeymoon cottage.
Stuart and Kim weren’t staying there after the wedding, however, not when such a gaggle of wedding guests would still be in the main house. Kate could understand the need for more privacy, but after touring the honeymoon cottage with Kim, she wondered if the newlyweds would find anything quite as gorgeous.
And speaking of gorgeous, Kate glanced over to check on her passenger. Still in dreamland. She shut off the motor and leaned toward him. He’d somehow managed to slouch down deeper into the seat, although he didn’t look particularly comfortable. The fact that he’d fallen asleep squashed into the car testified to his exhaustion.
As a photographer she appreciated the classic structure of his high cheekbones, straight nose and firm jaw. As a woman she was drawn to his thick, dark lashes and sensuous mouth. She could have a field day with her camera, but taking pictures wasn’t all she thought about when she looked at this man.
A sea breeze ruffled his hair and she noticed an angry red scratch on his forehead close to the hairline. No doubt that had happened last night during the rescue. He needed to put disinfectant on it. He might have other untended injuries, too. She would ask about that and make sure he took care of himself. Men like this often didn’t bother about their own welfare. They were too self-sacrificing.
She needed to get him out of the car. Then she’d make sure he had something to eat, and after that she should probably leave him alone to sleep. Selfishly, she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to hear more about his adventures. She had him to herself now, but tomorrow the dynamics would change and he’d belong to everyone.
“We’re here,” she said softly.
He opened his eyes. At first he seemed disoriented, but as the drowsiness cleared from those blue eyes, they took on a lazy, sexual warmth that curled her toes. With a soft groan, her superhero eased upright and unfastened his seat belt.
“Take it slow.” Once again Kate wished she’d brought a bigger car. “You may be a little stiff from the ride.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ve had sore muscles before.” Nevertheless he grimaced in pain as he climbed out of the car. “Nothing a couple of shots of bourbon won’t cure.” His jaw tightened as he stood upright.
Kate popped the trunk open and exited her side. Then she couldn’t help pausing to watch him take off his jacket and gingerly roll his broad shoulders. He had an amazingly toned body for someone who spent his days in the office or at the hospital. But now that his jacket was off she noticed a purple bruise on his left biceps and a long scratch on his right forearm.
Then she mentally smacked her forehead. She shouldn’t be standing here admiring his body when he was in pain from his ordeal. “Let’s get you checked in.” She lifted her purse strap over her head and secured it across her chest. “I’m so glad you have tonight to recuperate before you get into the whole wedding deal.” Then she opened the trunk and reached for his garment bag.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” He nudged her gently aside and pulled the garment bag out of the trunk. “I can certainly carry my own luggage.”
“I’m sure you can. I just think you need to relax.” The brush of his body had set off quite a reaction within her. She hadn’t responded to a man with this much enthusiasm since…never.
He smiled at her as he shouldered the bag. “I will.” Then he glanced at the other small suitcase. “Are you taking this in?”
“Eventually. I’ll have them store it for me until tomorrow. No need to mess with it now, though. I can come back and get it later.” She started to close the trunk.
He put a hand on the trunk lid, holding it open. “Ah, let’s take it now.” He hefted the small suitcase. “For that matter, you can leave it in my room if you want.”
She wasn’t about to argue with an idea that would throw her into closer contact with him. “That would be great, if you don’t mind.” She led the way along a sidewalk leading to the inn’s front door. Traffic on the street was heavy with people starting to search out a place to have dinner. She’d need to make sure he had a decent meal tonight.
Still, she didn’t want to embarrass him by hovering. Naturally he would minimize the toll his heroics had taken on him, but a guy like him deserved lots of TLC. “Those six people from the sailboat, are they all okay?” she asked.
Tucking his jacket through the straps of his garmet bag, he walked beside her up to the front door, which had been painted a glossy black and accented with brass hinges, knob and knocker. “They were water-logged and chilled, but yeah, I think they’re fine. I worried about little Dustin, because he’s only eight. He’s a trouper though. Just grinned and drank his hot chocolate afterward.”
“Amazing.” To think that one of the people he’d rescued had been a child. Kate could only imagine how grateful the parents must be.
She opened the door into a hallway that was painted the same Wedgwood blue as the outside shutters, while the surrounding woodwork had been done in creamy white. The buffed oak flooring glowed in the soft light. Immediately to her left, a gilded oval mirror reflected a mixed bouquet of flowers sitting on an antique table that hugged the wall. Thank goodness she and Kim had been able to reserve rooms in such a classy place, fitting accommodations for a hero like Harry.
“But enough about that.” He glanced around in obvious appreciation. “This is great. I want to forget about that whole ordeal and enjoy this weekend.”
“All right. Check-in is over here.” She stepped through a door on their right into a small sitting room. So he didn’t want to discuss his rescue anymore, she thought as she rang the little brass bell that would bring someone to take care of the paperwork. Well, then she wouldn’t mention the subject again. She could hardly blame him if he didn’t want to relive such a nightmare.
But she wanted to make sure she understood his meaning. “So you’d rather I didn’t mention anything of what you’ve been through to the others in the wedding party?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t see the point. This weekend is supposed to be about Stuart and Kim, not me.”
The sheer nobility of that sentiment made her weak in the knees. Most men would welcome an audience so they could revel in the glory of their accomplishments, but this particular man didn’t want his spectacular story to overshadow the wedding.
Then Kate realized something else. He’d trusted her with the tale, and now they shared a secret. She would be the only one at the wedding who would know that he was a bonafide hero. That was pretty darned cool.
“Okay,” she said. “And may I say that’s a wonderful attitude.”
“Thanks, but I don’t see it as anything spe—”
“It is,” she said softly. “Now why don’t you go over and relax on that sofa by the window and let me check you in?”
“Listen, I’m really fine. I can check myself in.”
She put a hand on his arm, and her gold bangles jingled. “Yes, you could, but everything’s all arranged, anyway, and it would be my pleasure.” She looked into his eyes. “I promise not to bring up your ordeal again if you’ll agree to let me pamper you a little.”
His blue eyes warmed again as they had back in the car when he’d awakened. “A man would be a fool to turn down an offer like that.”

HUGH DID AS HE WAS told and eased down upon a red and white patterned sofa just as a trim woman in a print blouse and khaki skirt came into the room and greeted them. Hugh stood up again.
“We’re with the Cooper-Thorpe wedding party,” Kate said. “I believe you have a room available for Mr. Armstrong.”
“Certainly.” The woman took her place behind an antique desk.
Kate glanced over at Hugh. “Just relax,” she said, waving him back to the sofa. “I’ll handle it.”
Harry must have gotten his phone message, Hugh thought. Otherwise no one would have known to reserve him a room here. Oh, yeah, it was becoming very obvious that old Harry was trying to instigate a little romance between his brother and the maid of honor. The plan was almost too obvious, considering that Kate was totally Hugh’s type.
Sitting down again, he used the time to study Kate. She wasn’t very tall, only about five-five, but those snug capri-length jeans and high-heeled mules made her look taller. He had no idea how women maneuvered in those things or even how they kept them on. It was one of the sweet mysteries of life. However they managed to navigate in shoes with no back, some women had a flair for it, and Kate was one of those who could turn the whole exercise into poetry.
A multipaned window behind him looked out on the bustling harbor. He gave it a quick glance and hoped his room would have a different view. Boats and water didn’t hold much appeal for him today, although he liked the idea of staying in this historic inn. Walking from the parking lot he’d smelled the saltwater tang of the bay and the aroma of fish being cooked in the area’s restaurants. But in here, the dominant scent was of bread baking, which was more comforting to his battered body.
Still, he was happy to be here, harbor view and all. Visiting New England always reminded him of working on The Patriot, which brought good memories. He’d enjoyed getting to know Mel. And there had been a sexy member of the camera crew, Charise. He’d enjoyed getting to know her, too.
But Kate made him forget all about Charise, or any other woman he’d been with in recent memory. As he pretended to lounge casually on the wing-backed sofa, his thoughts were anything but casual. Kate had offered to pamper him. He wondered if that meant what he’d love it to mean.
In L.A. he’d know exactly what to expect after a woman made such an offer, especially when she had that special look in her eyes that he’d seen in Kate’s. From the fit of her jeans to the daring neckline of her T-shirt, she radiated sexual confidence. Except for her height, she had the figure to be a runway model. Thank God that no longer described a woman with a flat-chested, boyish shape. He’d been delighted to see that trend disappear. Kate’s breasts were perfect for the new, more womanly look.
She’d taken off her purse, one of those sling types that looked big enough to carry a small child, and propped it beside her on the floor. As she leaned over to sign the guest book, her cropped T-shirt rode up to reveal a strip of ivory skin. Hugh gazed at that tempting spot, focusing on the slight depression formed by the small of her back.
He had an almost uncontrollable urge to go over and rest his hand against her exposed skin. The heel of his hand would fit into that warm niche, while his fingers would curve around her waist. She would be soft to the touch, humming with energy.
He imagined her leaning into the pressure of his hand and turning her head to smile at him. His groin tightened. He’d have to control those thoughts, though, on the chance that he was misreading the signals she was giving him. Still, he couldn’t believe that she looked at every guy the way she’d looked at him back there in the car.
There was the slight possibility that the atmosphere of the wedding had put her in a romantic mood. But if Harry had sent Kate on purpose, he would also have briefed her, letting her know that Hugh wasn’t interested in anything serious.
Maybe Kate wasn’t, either. Hugh had discovered that quite a few women in their twenties were focused on their careers and had no intention of tying themselves to a husband or even a steady boyfriend. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that Kate felt that way, too.
From the way she’d talked about her photography, he guessed that she was dissatisfied with the status quo and wanted a change, even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit that. Women in the midst of a career change weren’t usually eager to settle down to a steady relationship. If she fit in that category, they were a perfect match for the weekend.
She finished signing the guest book and murmured something to the other woman that Hugh couldn’t hear. The woman glanced over at him, so he could be fairly sure the conversation concerned him. Curious, he strained to hear what was being said, but noise filtering in from the busy street made it impossible.
The woman made a phone call, then another. Finally she shrugged and looked up at Kate with an air of regret. Whatever Kate had been trying to cook up, it hadn’t worked.
There was more hushed conversation, and then Kate turned and came toward him, a key folder in one hand. “We tried to arrange for an in-room massage for you,” she said. “But both recommended people were booked. If we were in Providence I’d have more of a selection, but I hate to take potluck.”
He stood. “No problem. But it was a nice idea.” A very nice idea. He was damned stiff, and a massage would have helped him be ready for…anything.
“I can upgrade you to a suite with a whirlpool,” she said. “If you want it, that is. The only problem is that it’s a little guest cottage out back instead of in the main building here, so there’s no view of the harbor. No view at all, actually.”
“To be honest, I didn’t want to look at water and sailboats, anyway.” And a whirlpool sounded like heaven to him. He wondered how big the whirlpool was, and if Kate…no, he was getting ahead of himself.
She gave him a secret smile and held out the key folder. “I had a feeling that would be fine with you, under the circumstances, so I went ahead and reserved it.”
He took the key folder, but then he had a sudden thought. “I wouldn’t be taking this away from Kim and Stuart, would I? I mean, this sounds like it could be the honeymoon cottage.”
Kate laughed. “Kim and Stuart aren’t about to stay here for their wedding night, if that’s what you’re saying. They love us all dearly, but they want to be far away from here that night. Even I don’t know where they’ll be staying, but I can guarantee it won’t be at the Townsend House.”
“Okay, then I’d love to have it.”
“Good.” Kate turned back to the woman at the desk. “We’re all set.”
The woman stood. “Would you like help with your luggage?”
“No, thanks.” Hugh hoisted the garment bag to his shoulder and grabbed Kate’s suitcase. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“I know how to get there,” Kate said. “I’ll show you.”
That was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

KATE HAD TO RELY ON HER own judgment in this situation, but she felt certain that Stuart would want his best man to be comfortable, especially after what Harry had been through. And if Stuart didn’t want to pay extra for the cottage, then she’d cover the cost. It wasn’t so much. Well, okay, it was twice as much as a regular room, but the man needed some amenities.
Fortunately, this cozy hideaway had plenty. With a sense of anticipation she led him down the hall and through the cheerful breakfast room to a back door that opened onto the garden. The new owners had told Kim and Kate that they would have bought the property for the rose bushes alone. Although the inn had fallen into disrepair, the former occupants had been avid gardeners, and the dozens of blooming roses in shades of red, pink and peach testified to their skill.
Roses lined the flagstone walk and tumbled from trellises spaced around the garden. Water splashed in several stone fountains tucked in among the flowers. Kim and Stuart hadn’t had time for engagement pictures, but last week Kate had talked them into letting her do some portraits here, and she was giving them the best of the lot, framed, as one of her wedding presents. The picture was so beautiful it brought tears to her eyes.
“Romantic.”
She glanced over at Harry, and her tummy gave a little skitter of sensuality. “Yes, it is.”
On the far side of the garden stood the cottage, which at one time had been a stable. But it bore no resemblance to one now. It had been painted white with blue trim to match the inn, and the effect was attractive, but the exterior gave no hint of the luxury within. Kate wanted to see the look on Harry’s face when he opened the door.
He put the key in the lock and turned the brass knob, pushing the glossy black door open. As he stepped inside, he drew in a breath. “Ohmigod. This must cost a small fortune.”
She smiled, pleased with his reaction. “Don’t worry about it. They gave us a grand opening discount.”
“Even so. I have to chip in for something like this.”
Kate had to admit the place was spectacular. Set against a backdrop of mint-green walls, dark walnut furniture in the sitting area was upholstered in white brocade. Intricately patterned Oriental carpets rested on gleaming hardwood floors, and roses in delicate vases perched everywhere, perfuming the air with a heady fragrance.
Through a wide doorway stood a massive canopy bed dressed in the same white brocade as the furniture in the sitting room. And of course there were more roses. It was a perfect honeymoon cottage, Kate thought as she looked around. Or a lover’s retreat….
“Beautiful.” He turned full circle, his garment bag still over his shoulder, her suitcase in his other hand. Then he glanced at Kate. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “Well, I’ve taken up a lot of your time. I’m sure you have things you need to do.”
Maybe he was subtly trying to dismiss her. She shouldn’t make assumptions, even though she thought there was an attraction between them. “And you’re probably ready for a nap.”
“No, not really.” He set down both suitcases and laid his jacket over a chair. “Maybe some time in the whirlpool, though.”
“Then I should be going.” She didn’t want to leave, but she couldn’t very well hang around while he took a long soak.
“So you do have things to take care of.” His gaze was clearly regretful.
“Nothing earth-shattering, but I thought—”
“For all I know some guy’s tapping his foot, wondering when you’re going to show up for dinner.”
Her pulse rate moved up a notch. He wanted to know if she had a boyfriend. “No,” she said carefully. “Nobody’s waiting for me.” She looked into his eyes. “But maybe you need to call someone to let her know you arrived safely?”
He held her gaze as he shook his head.
“Oh.” Her pulse raced at the unspoken messages zinging back and forth.
“I can hold off on the whirlpool, if you’re free for dinner.”
“I’m free for dinner, but I think you need to do something for those stiff muscles.”
He shrugged. “I will, eventually.” Then he gestured toward the suitcases. “Let me put these away.”
“Okay.” She waited in the sitting room while he carried both suitcases into the bedroom. Wow. This was turning into a fantasy event.
After he’d disappeared from view, a low whistle of appreciation filtered back to her. “Some whirlpool.”
She remembered it well. Set into a bay window, the marble tub was big enough for at least two people. By day the windows looked out on more rose bushes. By night, translucent shades provided complete privacy.
“And I look like a street person,” he added.
“You look fine,” she called to him. More than fine. Awesome. Hot.
“I need a shave.” He came back out, rolling his shoulders. “Have you seen that whirlpool?”
She nodded. “Kim and I had the full tour when we booked the rooms for the wedding party.” Watching him work the kinks from his shoulders made her long to go over and massage those knots out for him. That’s what he really needed. A whirlpool wouldn’t necessarily help his neck and shoulders.
“Well, I can tell you one thing. Before I take you out to dinner, I’m going to shave and clean up a little.”
“You don’t have to go to all that trouble. We can just—”
“Nope, I’ll feel a lot better if I do. Give me five minutes.”
“That’s silly.” The last thing she wanted to do was create more complications for him. “Listen, there’s a submarine sandwich place a block away. I’ll go pick up some food and bring it back. That way you can stay and relax.”
“Look, I’m really fine. A quick shave and shower and I’ll be good to go.”
“You don’t like subs?”
“I love them.”
“Then it’s settled.” She started for the door. This evening was becoming more exciting by the minute. Now they’d be able to have their meal in total privacy. “What kind of sandwich do you want?”
“I eat anything. Surprise me.”
She gave him a quick grin. “That’s what I like, a man with a sense of adventure.”
He smiled back. “Then I’m your guy.”

3
KATE DECIDED THAT WALKING to the sub shop would be faster than trying to maneuver her car through the dense traffic, not to mention the challenge of finding a parking spot once she got there. She set out at a brisk pace, enjoying the salty air and the cry of the seagulls overhead. Walking also gave her a chance to consider the idea that had lodged in her brain and wouldn’t leave.
Harry needed a massage. She had a basic knowledge of massage techniques. They’d have to work with the bed instead of using a massage table, but she’d had a little practice at that. She was no professional, but she was better than nothing. Besides, she’d had a massage nearly every week for the past five years, and then there was the crash course she and her ex-boyfriend Jonathan had taken last summer.
Although Jonathan hadn’t thrived in that class, she’d had a great time. Come to think of it, his lack of interest in the massage class had marked the beginning of the end, although she’d never thought Jonathan was the answer to her prayers in the first place.
But Harry…Harry had definite possibilities. She had only one quibble. A stupid and superficial quibble it was, too, and she was a little ashamed of herself. She wished he had a different name. A guy named Harry would be the kind who remembered to take out the garbage and put air in the tires, a nice enough fellow, but not the sort she’d associate with grand passion and undying love.
Yet everything else about this man seemed totally perfect. Maybe she’d avoid using his name for the time being, and if everything worked out between them she’d create her own special name for him later on. Maybe he had a great middle name she could convince him to use.
After reaching the sub shop, she had to stand in line for a few minutes before placing her order for two eight-inchers, one hot pastrami and one Italian meatball, and a couple of large Cokes. The twenty-minute wait for the order gave her enough time to run back to the combination souvenir shop and drugstore that she’d noticed on the way here. If she couldn’t find what she needed there, she’d take it as a sign that she was on the wrong track with this massage plan.
Inside the store, she stood and surveyed the display of T-shirts, miniature lighthouses and shell jewelry. The place was crowded, like everywhere else in Newport on this June evening. She glanced at her watch and waited with more than a little impatience for browsers to move out of the way so she could continue her search. She’d never meandered in her life, and it made her crazy when confronted with such a random waste of time.
Just when she was about to give up, the woman blocking a particular glass shelving unit walked to the far side of the shop. Sure enough, the top shelf held a set of three scented oils. Kate only needed the bottle of almond, but she didn’t mind paying for the other two.
As she took the shrink-wrapped basket containing the oils to the front of the store and handed them to the woman standing at the register, she glanced behind the counter and noticed a tube of antiseptic cream. That would be good for the cut on Harry’s forehead. Kate asked the clerk to add that to her purchase.
Then another item on the rack behind the counter caught Kate’s eye. She didn’t usually keep such an item with her, yet, under the circumstances, it might become essential. Still, buying it in advance seemed…weird. Of course, she considered herself a sexually liberated woman, so it shouldn’t seem weird. Yet she’d never bought this particular item before.
“Will that be all?” the dark-haired woman asked with a smile.
“Um….” Kate hesitated as she quickly reviewed the situation. She was about to give Harry a massage, assuming he agreed to that. She thought he would. Secondly, he was attracted to her, or else he wouldn’t have been fishing around trying to find out if she had a boyfriend.
If that attraction led to something more, she was open to that possibility. Yes, it was all happening fast, but Harry wasn’t some stranger she’d picked up in a bar. He was Stuart’s best friend, a respected medical professional, and a certified hero. He’d only be in Rhode Island for the weekend, so she didn’t have a lot of time to play the dating game. And she was dying to be swept away.
Yet she was unprepared in one very important way to be swept away, and she had to assume he was, too. Now was her chance to remedy that, if she had the nerve. Was she willing to lose a golden opportunity out of a stupid sense of false modesty? So what if she was buying massage oil at the same time?
The clerk waited expectantly.
Kate took a deep breath. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “I’ll take a package of those.” She pointed toward the display.
The clerk turned toward the back wall. “Which package?” she asked.
“The…the red one.”
The clerk pulled the package from the display and laid it on the counter next to the basket of massage oil and antiseptic cream while she rang up all three purchases. The array was pretty damned suggestive, and Kate willed the clerk to proceed a little faster.
Of course the woman fumbled, hit the wrong keys, had to void out the tape and start over. Kate drummed her fingers on the counter and stared into space with as much sophisticated nonchalance as she could muster. But when the clerk finished ringing up the items and started to put everything in one bag, Kate stopped her.
“I’ll take those in my purse,” she said, snatching the condoms. With all the stuff already crammed in there, she had a devil of a time working the package to the bottom. Her bracelets jangled as she pulled out her wallet and moved aside her camera, compact, lipstick, lip pencil, mascara, blush, a pad of paper, two spare rolls of film, an emery board, a packet of tissues, breath mints and three ballpoint pens.
“Do you want your receipt in the bag?” asked the clerk.
“Yes. I mean, no, I’ll just take it.” Kate grabbed the receipt and stuffed it in her wallet the minute she realized that it probably spelled out exactly what she’d bought besides massage oil. She didn’t have the nerve to look at the clerk again as she snapped her wallet shut, crammed it into her purse and whisked the plastic bag containing the oil off the counter.
Ten minutes later she’d picked up the food order and was on her way back to the inn. The closer she came, the faster her heart beat. She’d complained in the past about the lack of excitement in her life. Now here she was faced with the possibility of genuine, twenty-four-carat excitement, and she was scared. For one thing, she might be rejected. For another, she might not.
But this was what she’d longed for ever since she’d read Gone With the Wind at the age of eleven. Time to put up or shut up. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the Townsend House and down the hall toward the back door that led into the rose garden. She wondered if Harry had shaved.

FIRST HUGH UNPACKED. Then, when Kate still hadn’t returned, he unzipped his shaving kit, stripped off his T-shirt and lathered up his day-old beard. As he stroked the razor through the minty foam, he started going over his pre-relationship ritual, the trick he’d used for years to keep himself from getting in too deep with a woman. He figured that most men ended up seriously involved with someone because they focused on all her good traits and ignored her flaws.
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 around.”
“Right.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was becoming damned near irresistible, and that wasn’t good.
“It’ll be a wonderful wedding. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the Newport mansions.”
He shook his head.
“They date back to the Gilded Age, when people like the Rockefellers and John Jacob Astor had homes here. We lucked out, because a bride who’d booked Belcourt Castle two years ago canceled at the last minute. We not only got it, but they gave us a deal.” She used her hands when she talked, which made her bracelets tinkle merrily.
She was so animated, so appealing, so downright sexy. He could sit and listen to her all night. Well, maybe not. Eventually he’d have to heed the call to action that was making his groin tighten and his pulse rate climb. “Sounds as if everything fell into place for Stuart and Kim,” he said.
She laughed. “Once they figured out they were meant for each other, it did. Before that, it was rough going.”
He’d never believed that people were meant for each other. If he had, he might be in more trouble than he already was.
As she described Kim and Stuart’s rocky courtship, he kept searching for that deal-breaking flaw. Sometimes he discovered that a woman’s voice grated on his ears, but Kate’s was low-pitched and melodious. He could imagine that in some situations her voice would be soothing. This was not that kind of situation. The sound of her voice made him think of cool sheets and warm bodies.
And with that voice she’d offered to give him a massage. She made it sound like a neighborly gesture, but he didn’t think it would end up that way. Before he agreed to this massage, he needed to have his game plan. At the moment, he had none, and they were finished with their meal.
She balled up her sandwich wrapper and tossed it in the bag with a jingle of bracelets. “Well, I guess we should get started on that massage.” The color in her cheeks deepened.
“I guess so.” A surge of adrenaline caught him by surprise. He usually felt this way before performing a particularly difficult stunt. He couldn’t remember ever feeling that way the moment he was alone with a woman. His chest was tight with anticipation.
She rattled the ice in her cup. “Are you finished with your Coke? I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“I’m finished. The sandwiches were great. Thanks again.” He crumpled his wrapper and aimed a shot at the open bag. Ordinarily he would have sunk the basket, no problem. He missed.
“Air ball.” With a smile, she retrieved the crumpled wrapper and tucked it in the bag.
“I must not have my head in the game.”
“I’m sure you don’t. You’ve been through a lot. I promised not to talk about it anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.” She leaned down and pulled a small box from the second bag she’d brought in. “I bought a tube of antiseptic ointment, too. I want to put that on your scratches. Are there any others besides the one on your forehead and the one on your arm?”
“I don’t think so.” He’d forgotten all about the scratches. Having her notice them and go to the trouble and expense of getting something to put on them touched him. He wasn’t used to having someone fuss over him. Correction—he’d never wanted anyone to fuss over him. He’d gone to great lengths to make sure everyone he worked with thought of him as indestructible and oblivious to pain.
Because Kate wasn’t part of that world she didn’t know the drill. And come to find out, he liked knowing she was concerned about his minor injuries. Besides, he could allow her to tend his wounds because no one would know about it and his image as an iron man wouldn’t be tarnished.
She took the tube out of the box and tossed the box in the sandwich bag. “I should probably wash those scratches before I put this on. Come on into the bathroom with me. We can do both things in there.” She stood and put on a good show of nonchalance as she walked past him toward the bathroom.
He didn’t buy it. If he had to guess, he’d say she was as keyed up as he was. He followed her through the bedroom and into the bathroom. As they passed the canopy bed, he controlled the urge to reach for her and draw her down onto the mattress. Forget the scratches, forget the massage. He wanted to feel her body against his. He wondered what she’d do.
She turned at the doorway to the bathroom, her gaze straightforward, as if she had no thought whatsoever of getting cozy on that big bed. “Coming?”
“Um, sure.” If Kate had been in the movie business she would have intended her question as sexual innuendo and foreplay. But she wasn’t from Hollywood. He needed to remember that.
To the right of the doorway stretched a marble counter with two sinks, and on the left was another counter which served as a vanity. The walls behind both counters were mirrored. Hugh’s shaving mug and razor lay where he’d left them when she’d rapped on the cottage door. The large oval hot tub beckoned.
Kate set the tube of ointment on the vanity counter and gestured to a velvet cushioned stool positioned in front of it. “This’ll be easier if you sit there.”
He did as he was told and watched while she ran warm water over a washcloth before lathering it with soap. Then she soaked another washcloth with plain water and laid it on the counter. Her back was to him, but he could see in the mirror, too. As she worked, her breasts shimmied slightly under the tight T-shirt.
Visually tracing the seams of her bra, he located the puckered evidence of hooks and eyes in the middle of her back. As snug as the T-shirt was, he’d be able to unfasten her bra through the shirt without stripping it off. Of course, that might never happen. There were no guarantees here, only possibilities.
When she leaned over, he got a glimpse of her cleavage in the mirror. Cleavage should be no big deal for him anymore. He’d seen the best Tinsel Town had to offer. Yet the gentle rise of Kate’s breasts beneath her shirt made his mouth water.
Her shirt rode up in back again, giving him his second view of bare skin above the waistband of her jeans. He was close enough to reach over and touch her there as he’d fantasized while she was checking him in. He gripped his knees, instead. She should set the pace.
She squeezed excess water out of the soapy wash-cloth and turned to him. “I’ll do the one on your forehead first.”
“Okay.” He sat very still as she combed her fingers through his hair and held it back, exposing the scratch little Dillon had accidentally given him as he flailed in the water. Somebody had forgotten to trim the kid’s fingernails.
But Hugh didn’t have much time to think about Dillon now. Kate’s breasts rose and fell mere inches from his face as she dabbed the soapy cloth over the scratch. The soap smelled like vanilla, but mingled with that was the spicy aroma of her perfume and an undertone of her basic scent.
Sure enough, that last was his favorite. He’d read about pheromones and had dismissed the idea because he’d never experienced that moth-to-the-flame effect the researchers talked about. He was experiencing it now. He wanted to bury his nose between her breasts and take a deep breath.
As she worked he listened to the soft music of her bracelets and the rhythm of her breathing. Her breathing was uneven, and that gave him hope that this encounter would evolve into an outstanding experience before the night was over. He wondered if pheromones worked both ways. What a bummer if he wanted to inhale her scent from top to bottom and she had no such urges.
“Does that hurt?” she murmured.
“No.” His nerve endings registered the sting, but he was so busy dealing with his growing arousal that he barely noticed.
“You wouldn’t tell me if it did, would you?”
“No.”
She sighed, which caused her breasts to tremble invitingly. “That’s what I thought. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’d hate for these scratches to get infected. You of all people shouldn’t let that happen. You’ll set a bad example.”
He wasn’t sure exactly why an infected scratch would set any kind of example to anyone, but he decided not to question her reasoning. Now wasn’t the time to disagree with this wonderful creature and risk spoiling the mood. “Don’t worry. I heal fast.”
“Good.” She set the soapy cloth down, picked up the other one and rinsed the soap off his forehead. She wiped carefully, making sure she didn’t allow soapy water to drip into his eyes.
He gripped his knees harder. He’d never been this close to a woman he wanted without acting on his impulses.
Then she blew softly on the scratch, her breath sweet and cool, driving him right out of what was left of his mind. He closed his eyes and a sound escaped him—part moan, part whimper.
“I’m hurting you.”
“No.” What hurt was his penis, which was protesting the confinement of his jeans. He rested his left hand casually in his lap to disguise the evidence.
“Let me put the ointment on. That will take the sting out.” She smoothed something creamy over the scratch.
She must have leaned closer because he could feel her heat. He was afraid to open his eyes for fear he’d be looking directly into the scooped neckline of her T-shirt. A guy could only take so much before he cracked.
“That’s better,” she murmured. “Now for your arm.”
From the movement of air, he knew she was no longer hovering quite so close, so he dared to open his eyes.
She held the soapy washcloth in her right hand. “I guess you can stand, now.”
No, he couldn’t. Not without major groin pain. “How about if I just prop my arm on the counter?” He leaned over and rested his right forearm on the cool marble.
“That works.”
Instead of watching her doctor the scratch on his arm, he stared straight ahead and tried to will his erection back down. After the first aid would come the massage, and he’d better not start that procedure already fully aroused.
He tried to remember the last time he’d had such a quick response to a woman and he couldn’t think back that far. Maybe it was the environment he worked in. He’d heard that people who worked in a doughnut shop quickly got sick of the doughnuts because they were always available. Beautiful women were always available on a movie set.
Still, it didn’t make sense that he’d fly across the country and become instantly attracted to Kate simply because she lived and worked in Providence instead of L.A. He had to go back to the pheromone theory. She smelled…perfect. And he was so turned on he was about to embarrass both of them.

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