Double Exposure. Vicki Thompson LewisЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.