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Prescott Reynolds saw the lithe woman with striking, flame-red hair as she ran up to the edge of the brook. Her ponytail reached between her shoulder blades, which meant her unbound hair would be at her waist. An image of scarlet waves flowing over her creamy naked shoulders struck him, and he mentally batted it aside. This wasn’t a time to entertain his libido, not with a probable crazed fan on his tail. He mentally caught himself up short. He assumed this was a fan, he was so used to his struggle to get solitude. Maybe the redhead was just another nature lover.
“Don’t ever let your guard down.” His security detail’s implicit instructions reminded him that he’d not alerted them that he was coming out here this morning, alone.
The redhead’s footsteps had alerted him that he wasn’t alone on his hike, setting off his anger.
He was upstream of the attractive redhead, on the other side of the creek, by at least twenty yards. It was twenty yards too close, though. She stood stock-still, as if she’d seen a ghost, but he didn’t trust her, didn’t trust any other human being who “happened” to show up when he was trying to live a normal, private life.
He’d come out for an early-morning hike to escape the cacophony of the Roaring Springs Film Festival. From the first ping of his phone at dawn until he excused himself from the last social event of the evening, he was never alone. Usually he rolled with PR junkets like the professional he’d become, but in the midst of healing his sore heart, he despised the promotional part of his job.
What he really resented, though, was his privacy being invaded, especially by an innocent-looking woman. He’d been burned enough times to know better. There were no coincidences when you were one of Hollywood’s highest-paid actors.
He stood behind the nearest tree and decided to wait for the redhead to make her move. Maybe he’d play naive for a bit before he told her in no uncertain terms that not only was he not interested, but his security detail would be happy to provide her name and contact information to the local sheriff.
It’s your nerves.
True, he’d been on edge since thinking his ex might be stalking him, but it wasn’t as if his concern wasn’t justified. A young woman was literally yards from him, and he’d heard her nearby footsteps as she approached, running, then slowed to a walk more in rhythm with his stride.
Maybe you’re being paranoid.
Anger swelled at the constant need for vigilance. He’d known PR and media attention was all a part of pursuing his life’s passion, but there were days he had to ask himself if it was all worth it.
Take a breather.
Prescott wasn’t unmoved by the beauty around him, and as he waited for this possible latest superfan to try her hand at charming him, he distracted himself with a family of woodpeckers. As he watched, two large black-and-white birds with red crowns pecked voraciously at various tree trunks, then flew to a hidden nest in a nearby tree. He heard the peeps of the woodpecker chicks, and if he hadn’t been intent on confronting the interloper, he would have taken the time to try to snap some photos with his phone.
After twenty minutes, the woman finally moved from where she’d stood practically motionless, as if meditating. He wasn’t fooled and braced himself for the confrontation. He was tired of running from life and from his haters. This overzealous fan had picked the wrong day to mess with him.
Before he had a chance to look into the woman’s eyes, she turned and ran. Not toward him, but in the opposite direction. As if she’d never seen him. As if he, Prescott Reynolds, weren’t her obsession. As if she’d just been someone out for a morning workout and had taken a break by the running water. Hadn’t he done the same?
The chuckle started deep in his gut, so rare since his abominable breakup with Ariella Forsythe last year. At first he wondered if he was losing it. But as he laughed at himself, admitted to himself that he wasn’t the center of everyone’s universe, he felt the tightness in his chest ease up. Hadn’t his mother always told him he took himself too seriously?
The unexpected relief that rushed through him was as cool and calming as the mountain stream. It’d been too long since he’d simply relaxed, stopped thinking about disastrous breakups or crazed fans. It was time he let go and enjoyed being plain old Prescott, the Iowa farm boy who was lucky to have had a big Hollywood break.
He ran his fingers over the smooth white aspen bark. Maybe this film festival wouldn’t be so bad. There was the problem of the Avalanche Killer making national headlines, but he faced more danger walking down a busy street in LA. At least in Roaring Springs he had his security detail with him, and the opportunity to draw on the beauty of the stunning valley surrounded by such powerful mountains. He needed all the peace and tranquility he could get.
* * *
Ariella adjusted the climbing belt and dug her spikes into the tree trunk. Thank goodness for the free-climbing and rappelling classes she’d taken at REI; they’d enabled her to keep tabs on Prescott no matter where he went.
He’d almost caught her, thanks to the stupid bitch who’d been running on the same trail he hiked. Another woman hoping to get into Prescott’s bed and have him declare how much he needed her, she was certain.
Her cheeks pulled tight as her lip curled. Prescott had been so gullible. He’d truly believed that she’d loved him. And she supposed that she had, as much as she could feel for anyone. When he’d told her he loved her, though, she knew he meant it. Unlike her, Prescott was able to give a damn about other people.
All she cared about was winning what she wanted. And what Ariella really coveted was Prescott’s pull and influence in the entertainment industry. His salaries had gone up by the millions for each film, along with his clout. Exactly what a girl like her needed to get her career going in the right direction.
Poor Prescott had been so righteously angry when she’d admitted she’d been screwing Donald Channing, another actor on their film set over a year ago. He’d left in a huff and then stopped taking her calls and texts. Said he was done with her.
But she wasn’t done with him, and Ariella was certain that once she presented Prescott with her plan, he’d agree to again partner with her. That had been her one mistake—she hadn’t let him in on her career plans right from the start.
He wasn’t going to come easily, though. It’d be impossible to get him to meet with her and have a calm adult discussion. Ariella knew it would be risky, but she was determined to win Prescott back, even if it meant officially kidnapping him to get him in the same room as her.
And getting rid of women like the redhead who were in her way.
Chapter 2 (#u3db1fb6d-7f87-5181-9775-3e79a80dc9bc)
“Have you heard from Skye this morning, sweetheart?” Mara Colton was already dressed in her work clothes, which meant she looked like she’d just stepped out of a boardroom. Her navy suit was official looking enough to give her mom the impression of measured control over what they both knew could erupt into total chaos with one wrong decision. They planned all year for the Roaring Springs Film Festival and worked well together, but this year felt different. Between Skye’s failed romance, the Avalanche Killer, and the loss of revenue due to the latter, nothing was going as usual.
“No, not since she told me she needed some space.” Phoebe wiped her brow with the bottom edge of her running shirt. “Don’t worry, Mom. She’s had a rough breakup, and you know how she takes them.”
“‘Space’ is not an option, with the press arriving today. What on earth are we going to do if she’s not here to handle tonight’s event?”
Mara’s concern made the tiny lines around her mouth deepen, and Phoebe hated that her twin was putting her mother through this. It was one thing to go all trauma-drama when you were a teenager, or even in college, but at twenty-five it seemed a little excessive.
Not that Phoebe could relate. Skye had always enjoyed a healthy dating life, her outgoing nature attracting men like adrenaline junkies to the high mountains that surrounded The Chateau. As the quieter twin, Phoebe normally didn’t have a problem with her more introverted personality, but she was starting to wonder when she’d have more than the more casual relationships with men she’d enjoyed so far. She wasn’t sexually inexperienced, but it’d be nice to have a man who wanted something more. Something lasting.
While she tried to think of how to answer her mother, a skinny boy of thirteen came barreling around the corner, followed by a rosy-faced toddler.
“Hey, Phoebe!” Joshua pulled up short and looked over his shoulder to make sure the little girl was with him. “Come on, Chloe.”
“Good morning, you two.” Phoebe gave Josh a quick hug and then bent down to lift Chloe into her arms. She buried her nose into the baby curls, savoring the sweet scent.
“Grandma, can me and Chloe go to the playground? I’ll make sure she doesn’t climb too high.” Josh was Phoebe’s nephew and the son of her brother Blaine, who’d just returned from his military stint. They’d all only met recently, as no one had known that Joshua’s mother, Tilda, gave birth to Blaine’s son back in high school. Russ and Mara were proving much warmer grandparents than they had been parents, and immediately wrapped Joshua in unconditional love. Still, it was disconcerting to hear him call Mara “grandma.” Phoebe smiled and poked at Chloe’s stomach. “Who has a cute tummy?”
Chloe’s squeal of delight warmed Phoebe and chased away her worries about Skye. Chloe was the daughter of her cousin Sloane, the woman Russ and Mara had raised as their own. Both children were the first grandkids for Russ and Mara, and it showed in how very spoiled they were whenever they came to the resort.
“Phoebe. We need to settle how we’re going to fix this.” Mara hugged Joshua to her as she spoke, her eyes softening for the young teen.
Chloe started to squirm, her legs kicking like all get-out, and Phoebe reluctantly set her back down.
“You two go on ahead, I’ll have Lania meet you there.” Mara spoke to Joshua, referring to the nanny she’d hired to help during festival week.
“Thanks, Grandma! See you, Aunt Phoebe!” Joshua and Chloe sped off, the toddler’s legs furiously pedaling to keep up with her older cousin. Mara placed a quick call on her cell. She instructed the nanny to text the minute she arrived at the playground. With the Avalanche Killer on the loose, there was no such thing as being too careful.
When Mara turned to face Phoebe, she was ready with the best answer to ward off her mother’s inevitable freak-out.
“Skye will be back in time, Mom. I’ll text her in a bit and see where she’s at.”
“You remember that I still need you in the ballroom by nine this morning, right?”
Phoebe looked at her watch. “Yes, and that leaves me another two hours to shower, eat and show up.”
“And I thought we agreed you weren’t going to go running by yourself until everything gets cleared up?” Mara reminded her.
Great. Now her mother was turning her angst on the nearest target—Phoebe.
“Mom. There’s no safer place on the planet, second only to maybe downtown Roaring Springs. I never went off the main path, and it was light by the time I took off.” She opted to not mention the creepy feeling she had of being watched, nor the sounds of breaking twigs that she’d been afraid might have been some unseen trespasser. Her imagination had always been on hyperdrive, a byproduct of having her nose in a book since she was a kid. Her reading tastes ran the gamut of genres, but her favorites remained thriller and horror.
“Sabrina thought it was a safe place, too.” Mara’s mention of her niece and Phoebe’s cousin hit Phoebe square in her heart. She winced, wishing the pain would somehow ease and then immediately felt guilty. Sabrina Gilford hadn’t been given a chance to escape the pain and suffering of her murder. What right did Phoebe have to even consider complaining about her own life?
“I’m not going to win this conversation, Mom. Let me get something to eat and I’ll see you in the ballroom later.”
“Wait a minute, sweetheart.” Mara’s normal businesslike tone was tinged with concern.
“Yes, Mom?”
“You need to be prepared. If this is one of Skye’s more prolonged relationship-grieving periods, she might not be back in time for tonight. I’ll need you to step up.” Mara’s words made Phoebe’s heart stutter. Skye wouldn’t leave them in the lurch, not with the opening gala tonight, would she?
Her clenched jaw told her the truth. Skye could take breakup misery to a whole new level, and there was a good possibility she’d back out of tonight if she truly didn’t feel up to the task. But it wasn’t something Phoebe wanted to reveal to her mother, who always bore the brunt of the festival’s pressure each year. She forced a smile, made her stance more relaxed and put a hand on her mother’s shoulder.
“Mom, we’ve been through this. Skye is the face of The Chateau’s marketing. She’s a natural at dealing with the public and especially the press. I’m the depth of our team. Like when I ran cross country in high school and college. I never was the fastest, but Coach could always count on me.” And she never wanted to be in front of a television camera, not willingly. The thought of having to stand in front of the gauntlet of reporters, all craving the latest and greatest gossip on the featured actors, was more frightening than the scariest novel she’d ever read. “Trust me, Mom. You don’t want me doing one bit of her job.”
“Coltons don’t quit, Phoebe.” Mara clearly had her teeth sunk into the idea that Phoebe could instantaneously replace Skye, and she balked.
“Wait a minute—I’m not the one who took off with a broken heart. I’m right here, Mom, standing in front of you. Please don’t put this on me. If on the very tiny chance Skye isn’t here in time, we can ask one of the hotel management interns to step in. It’d be the best training for them, and we can let the press know we’re giving an intern from another part of the country a great opportunity.”
Mara’s mouth gaped. “You’ve had your nose buried in our financial books far too long, Phoebe. There is no way on earth I’d allow an intern to do Skye’s job. Not during the festival, anyhow. It’s too risky, even if we’d taken the last month to train them.”
“Mom, we’re wasting time here. Skye will be back on time—we can count on her for professional commitments.” And they could. Skye never missed a work appointment.
“Let’s hope you’re right and she shows up in time to get ready for the red carpet. For now, I’d feel much better if you’d plan on handling the press briefing at three. If Skye is back by then, great, no problem. If not, however, you’ll be ready to go.”
Mara wasn’t budging, and Phoebe couldn’t really blame her. More like her mother when it came to planning, Phoebe preferred a sense of direction and purpose. With no surprises. Once again, her heart cracked a little, seeing her mother’s anxiety during what was normally a time of year they all looked forward to.
“Fine.” She blew a long breath out of her mouth. “I’ll look over her notes after my shower. Just in case.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Mara turned and walked away, and Phoebe wished for once she was the more outgoing sister. The one who’d tell their mom that no way in heck was she going to talk to the press or corral the VIPs into the ballroom. She’d honestly be content to play the shadow sister for the rest of her life. It might mean she didn’t get the accolades that Skye enjoyed, but she’d have peace of mind.
Are you sure? Maybe this is a chance to show your mettle.
“Whatever.” Phoebe grumbled to herself as she went to her apartment, a collection of rooms in a private residential wing of the hotel. Skye had better show up sooner than later. Otherwise Phoebe was going to be pretending to be her sister, something she hadn’t done since high school, when Skye skipped two classes to go skiing with her boyfriend of the week. Because, ultimately, she knew that she’d never be able to stop her mother from getting what she wanted. Mara Colton was a force of nature all to herself.
Before she stepped into the shower, Phoebe sent off a quick text to Skye. She’d give her sister until noon to get it together and come back to work. Skye knew how important the next several days were, and no matter how shattered her heart was, she’d never put the Colton family in a rough position.
Unless something really wrong was going on. Phoebe’s twin radar wasn’t firing off as it had earlier, but it wasn’t giving her any warm fuzzies, either.
It’s because Skye’s upset over being dumped.
“Well, two can play at this game.” Phoebe spoke to herself as she got under the hot stream of water. Closing her eyes, she focused on her gut and envisioned the invisible cord that connected her to her twin. Once she had a solid mental image of the thread, she yanked on it, as if this would alert Skye to the fact that her twin needed her. “It’s your turn to feel my pain, Skye. Get back here now.”
* * *
Skye did feel Phoebe’s mental nudge, Phoebe assumed, because when she got out of the shower, her twin’s response was on her phone.
Sorry but still can’t come back. Need more time. Thanks for handling it all for me. Xx
Phoebe’s wet hair dripped water onto her phone as she fired a quick text.
No choice—we need you. Be here by noon, no later!
Her finger wavered over the emoji keyboard, wondering if their tried and true symbol would work its magic this time. She hadn’t used it since freshman year in college, when she’d found out her roommate was sleeping with the boy she’d hoped to spend the weekend with. Phoebe looked at herself in the steamy mirror and realized that Mara would have to take her from her current nondescript style to Skye’s over-the-top motif. That would mean cutting at least nine inches off her hair and wearing tons of sparkling makeup and equally glittery clothing. No, thanks. Without further hesitation, Phoebe texted back, Get back here or Mara’s going to be the end of me.
She added the barfing emoji symbol and pressed the send arrow. Skye would know how stressed Phoebe was because she’d referred to Mom by her first name, something they never did to her face.
* * *
Prescott had to admit that if he had to deal with his business manager’s constant pressure to make it appear that he was leading the life expected of a successful actor, it was best done from the balcony of his VIP suite. The warm air was dry and the colors of the mountain sharp.
As was his tone with Jon, his manager, but he was determined to be himself as much as possible, without falling prey to the trappings of celebrity.
“I’m here to promote the premiere of the film we’ve worked so hard on.” Prescott didn’t want to add the implied period at the end of his statement. Jon knew the deal.
“We’re only saying that it’s been a year since your big breakup with Ariella, and it would be nice if your fans saw that you’d moved on. Plus it will underscore who was the villain in that relationship.” By we, Jon meant not only Prescott’s agent and the business staff but also the director of the film being showcased in the festival.
“I don’t give a—” He stopped himself. Regrouped. Made his mind go back to this morning’s hike. The aspens, the breeze, the cute redhead... “You know I’m going to do the best job I can while I’m out here. You also know that press junkets aren’t my forte, but I’m not the worst. As for my ex, she’s not stopped bashing me every chance she gets. I think her reputation speaks for itself.”
“Just make sure you keep up with your security detail.” Jon’s reminder was warranted—some strange things had happened over the past several months, from weird packages being mailed to his home to random scathing voice mails from Ariella herself. But Prescott still didn’t like to dwell on it.
“The team’s here, and we’re talking. I won’t go anywhere without them, save for my room.” Which, as it was located in The Chateau, was surrounded by the top security in the business. “I am grateful to stay here this year, away from the throngs. Thanks for setting it up for me.”
“You’ve earned it, and it’s a nice break from being in downtown Roaring Springs. As small as that town is, it explodes into a mini–New York City for the film festival.”
Prescott agreed. “Jon, I’m sorry if I’m coming off like a dick. I’d hoped that Ariella and our breakup would be far behind me by now.”
“Sometimes the media can’t let go of it, Prescott. Either way, anything you can do to be seen with other single women this week would be a plus.”
Prescott ended the call and any thoughts of finding another actress to connect with. He’d carefully avoided any romantic commitments this entire year, keeping dates to one-night events and eschewing the Hollywood social scene. His ex had done the exact opposite, including getting herself kicked out of bars and fired from her last film set. No wonder she’d amped up her attempts to get his attention—he’d only ever been a celebrity ticket to her.
If he were to ever get involved with another woman again, as more than a sexual interest, it wouldn’t be with a celebrity.
That had to be why the image of the redheaded runner kept flitting through his mind. She’d been attractive, mysterious, and he hadn’t recognized her as anyone involved in the industry.
Prescott didn’t believe in fate.
He looked around the view of the resort property from his balcony and absorbed as much of the good nature vibes as he could. A small movement in one of the trees caught his eye and he set his mug down, intent to spy a bear or large raptor. It was impossible to tell what he’d noticed from this far away, though, as the tree line began a full half mile from the The Chateau.
Who was he kidding? The tight knot of apprehension in his gut hadn’t loosened since Ariella had begun her constant attempts to reconnect with him. Now he was getting paranoid, feeling as though she was around every corner, in each dark shadow that crossed his path. She didn’t have the money to travel here, much less stay in Roaring Springs during the film festival.
No matter how much he tried to approach his anxiety with logic, it never left. Ariella had done more than scar his heart—she’d taught him that you never really knew a person even after you’d lived with them.
Chapter 3 (#u3db1fb6d-7f87-5181-9775-3e79a80dc9bc)
The rest of Phoebe’s morning went as planned, with several short meetings with the event staff and regular team to ensure everyone knew what was expected of them. She’d gotten through the ballroom meeting with Mara and told her mother that Skye had texted her back. But she didn’t tell her mother exactly what her twin had said, hoping to delay Mara’s descent into festival madness.
At ten minutes past noon, however, there was no more stalling. Skye still hadn’t answered back and was nowhere in sight. So she’d been forced to spill the beans to her mom.
Phoebe gritted her teeth. She was going to make Skye pay the next time she saw her. Maybe for that nice pair of leather-strap sandals she’d been eyeing in The Chateau’s boutique. They were still expensive with their employee discount, but since Skye’s departure at the worst time for the festival meant maximum distress for Phoebe, she figured it was the least her sister could do.
However, for now, she had to survive her mother’s attempts at making her look like her twin.
