Double Exposure

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  The more he thought about her revised attitude, the angrier he became. All he’d done was go along with the program. She had no reason to be miffed at him, for God’s sake. He was the one who should be ticked off at her. Which he was, except that he still wanted her with an embarrassing desperation.

  After buttoning his jeans, he took a clean T-shirt from the small pile he’d tucked in the top drawer of the dresser and pulled it over his head. “I’m decent, now,” he called out. “And the coffee should be about ready. I’ll meet you in the sitting room.”

  Barefoot, he walked back into the kitchen area. Too bad things had turned sour. This place was gorgeous, with the hardwood floors and thick Oriental carpets. He’d had visions of making love to her on one of the carpets. And on the brocade love seat. And up against the table. Anywhere and everywhere.

  Unfortunately, those prospects were looking extremely dim. He found a couple of coffee mugs in a cupboard and, wonder of wonders, some of those little restaurant thimbles of real cream in the miniature refrigerator. A bowl of fruit sat on the counter, but he figured the fruit was fake. Picking up a pear that he thought was wax, he discovered it was real and decided to eat it.

  “I’m back.”

  He turned, chewing his bite of pear. She stood beside the table where they’d eaten their dinner, a doomed expression clouding her lovely green eyes. He swallowed the mouthful of pear, tore off a sheet of paper towel and put the pear down on it. “How do you like your coffee?” he asked.

  “With cream, but if there isn’t any, then I—”

  “There is.” So they even liked their coffee the same. This could have been damned wonderful. He poured two mugs and handed her one, along with a couple of the cream containers. His hand touched hers, and he immediately felt the effect of that contact in his groin. It wasn’t fair that she’d changed the rules like this.

  Then again, maybe her change of heart was the best thing that could have happened. She’d been so perfect that she’d scared him. With a woman this terrific, one with no fatal flaws, he was in a danger zone. From the way she was acting now, he didn’t have to worry about getting hooked into some long-term deal.

  “Want some fruit?” he asked. “It’s good.”

  “No thanks.” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “Could you…would you come over here and have a seat, please? I have some things I need to say, and I…I’d like to discuss this like civilized people.”

  As opposed to jumping each other’s bones like uncivilized maniacs. “Sure thing.” He abandoned the pear and walked over to sit down at the table, all the while thinking of the meal they’d shared the night before, and how the atmosphere had been charged with sexual tension. It was charged with tension now, but there wasn’t anything sexual about it.

  Today she wore white shorts and a skinny tank top in mint green—very summery and appealing. Way sexy. Although she wasn’t wearing the bangle bracelets, she’d taken time for makeup and a spritz of that cologne he remembered from yesterday.

  She looked and smelled a lot like the woman who’d picked him up at the airport, but she sure wasn’t acting like her. She ran her red fingernail around the rim of the cup, not bothering to put the cream in that she’d asked for.

  He dumped the cream in his, picked up the cup and shook it a little to stir the two together. Then he inhaled the aroma of the coffee and took a bracing sip. He’d grab his thrills where he could get them. “You should try it. Not too bad for in-room coffee.”

  With a sigh, she opened both cream packets and dumped the contents in simultaneously. Then she stared into the cup, not looking at him. “I didn’t know Harry had a twin,” she said.

  Pausing with his cup halfway to his mouth, he gazed over the rim at her bowed head. Oh.

  She continued to concentrate on her coffee mug, and her voice was stripped of all emotion. “Stuart and Kim sent me to pick up Harry at the airport. They gave me a picture so I’d recognize him. Turns out Harry got held up with a hospital emergency. He’s coming in today.”

  “You thought I was Harry.” A sick feeling lodged in his gut. She hadn’t been sent as a special treat by Stuart and Harry. She’d mistaken him for the best man, Stuart’s good friend, a respected doctor. That’s the person she’d thought she was going to bed with. Damn it. Damn it to hell! Talk about a major blow to the ego. He’d been nothing more than a stand-in for his brother.

  She looked up at him, her face flushed. “So when you told me you’d spent the night hauling six people out of a sailboat, I thought—”

  “You thought that I was some big hero? Jesus.” He couldn’t look at her, so he stared at the pattern in the Oriental carpet instead. She hadn’t bought condoms for a Hollywood stuntman who was something of a playboy. She’d bought them for a twenty-four-carat hero who delivered babies by day and saved the drowning by night. So much for his animal magnetism.

  “Is it so hard to believe I’d jump to that conclusion?” She sounded very defensive. “I thought you were Harry! Then you told me that you didn’t get any sleep because you spent the night rescuing people from a sailboat, and when I asked you to tell me more, you said you didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe if you’d talked about it, I would have figured out it wasn’t real!”

  He couldn’t help but respond to the distress in her voice. Glancing over at her, he discovered what he’d feared, that her eyes were glistening. She was on the verge of tears. He forced out whatever words of comfort he could manage. “I’m sorry we had this big misunderstanding,” he said.

  “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.” She swallowed once, twice. Then she picked up her cup, as if determined to drink the coffee if it killed her.

  “I don’t feel so wonderful about this, myself,” he said. “I never pretended to be someone I’m not. I thought I’d met a liberated, sexy woman ready to play, and now I discover it was all a lie. It wasn’t me who turned you on, it was some idealized superhero.”

  She went very still. Slowly she put down the cup and lifted her gaze to meet his. “You have a point. I, um, didn’t think of how this might sound to you. I just figured you’d think I was an idiot.”

  “No bigger one than me,” he said carefully. “I was going on my assumptions, too. I didn’t want to ask questions, because I liked the way everything was turning out. I thought…I thought maybe Harry and Stuart had asked you to pick me up because they knew we’d get along.”

  Kate closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, dear.” When she opened her eyes again, her discomfort had been replaced by sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I was so caught up in my own embarrassment that I didn’t think about how you’d feel about all this once I told you.”

  “I’ll get over it.” The last thing he wanted from her was sympathy.

  “Of course you will.” A flicker of the energy that had lit her eyes earlier returned. “But I’d be less than honest if I didn’t tell you that deluded or not, I had a very ni—”

  “Stop right there.” Fury burned in his gut. “If you’re going to tell me you had a nice time last night, you can save yourself the trouble. There was nothing nice about our time together, and you know it.” He pinned her with a look intense enough to scorch.

  “There was, too!”

  “Wrong word, sweetheart. We could hardly wait to get at each other, and once we did, we couldn’t get enough. No matter who you thought I was, you can’t deny that you were on fire for me. It wasn’t nice, it was hot as hell. Maybe that was all about me being Mr. Brave and True, but I’m not so sure about that. We had some pure animal lust going on, body to body.”

  She fidgeted in her chair, as if she’d like to move away, but she didn’t, and that little flicker of interest in her eyes grew stronger. She licked her glossy lips. “Maybe.”

  “No maybe about it.” Her reaction made him feel marginally better. And damn, he still wanted her. “The lust isn’t gone, either.”

  “We have to do something about that.”

  He scooted back his chair. Maybe all was
n’t lost, after all. “Come with me, baby. I know exactly what to do about that.” If he could reestablish the sexual connection between them, he wouldn’t feel like such a fraud.

  “No!” She shook her head so vigorously that her short hair quivered. “I mean we have to figure out how to act normal around each other, so that nobody will be able to tell what happened!”

  His jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I can’t let my family know that I picked up the best man’s twin by mistake and…and…”

  “Why not? Don’t people have sex in Rhode Island?”

  She stared at him for several long seconds. “Okay, I have an idea.”

  “I’ll bet it’s not the same as mine.”

  A faint smile touched her lips. “No, probably not.”

  He blew out a breath. “What’s the big deal? Through a series of misunderstandings we ended up in bed together. We’ve both agreed that we had a pretty good time there.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Maybe not, but it was a point he really wanted to make. “I’m not proposing to give your family all the gory details, but why can’t we laugh about the mix-up and continue to enjoy the weekend together? No harm, no foul. At the end of the weekend we part friends.” That would certainly salvage his pride.

  She looked at him as if he’d suggested going into the Townsend House breakfast room naked. “You want casual sex.” She made it sound like a sacrilege.

  “I know that’s the term people use, but I never understood it. To me, casual sex is when you don’t care very much about whether you do it or not. I love having sex with the right woman, and I try to let her know how much I’m enjoying myself. So, no, I don’t want casual sex. I want mind-blowing, incredible, rock-the-bedposts sex, which is what we had.” He paused. “And what we could have again.”

  Although she tried to maintain her expression of outrage, that fire in her eyes burned a little brighter every time he discussed their recent activities. “Well, I…can see that you and I have different ideas on the subject,” she said.

  He had another thought, one that didn’t please him at all. “Are you hoping to get something going with my brother, instead? Is that why you want to make sure we keep our little secret?”

  “No, I certainly am not! I don’t—”

  “Because after spending a very educational night with you, I think I’m qualified to say that you and Harry would be totally unsuited to each other. Don’t get me wrong. My brother’s a hell of a nice guy. He’ll make some sweet girl a good husband.”

  She bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Kate, you brought condoms to the room and offered to give me a massage after we’d barely met. Harry wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with a firecracker like you.”

  Cheeks flaming, she pushed away from the table and stood. “I thought you were someone else!”

  He leaned back in his chair and gave her a lazy once-over. She had no business looking so good. Later he might regret the remark he was about to make, but now his poor ego needed soothing. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

  She clenched her fingers, as if restraining the urge to slap him. Then she opened her mouth, started to say something, and instead remained silent.

  He’d give her high marks for honesty, at least. Another woman might have wanted to attack him for pointing out the truth, and then denied the pleasure she’d had out of guilt about the circumstances. Kate obviously felt plenty guilty, but at least she didn’t pretend it hadn’t been great between them.

  “What now?” he asked softly. “You never told me your idea.”

  “I don’t know if it’s such a good one, all things considered.”

  “Hey, let’s see if we can be friends, be civilized, like you said. Tell me.” He was getting the general impression that Kate was looking for a significant relationship, so he’d have to watch himself with her. She hadn’t come right out and said it, but her reaction to his suggestion for the weekend gave her away. There was her fatal flaw, the one he’d been searching for last night.

  “Stuart and Harry have quite a few things to take care of today,” she said. “Tux rental and stuff, and they’re planning to go straight from the airport to Providence so they can make sure everything’s handled. They won’t be coming down to Newport until late this afternoon, for the rehearsal.”

  He shrugged. “No problem. I’d figured on that, anyway, and with Harry coming in so late, it makes sense. I can amuse myself.”

  “They want me to entertain you.”

  He chuckled and, fortunately, she began to grin, too. If he’d discovered she had no sense of humor about this, he would have been sadly disappointed. “Don’t you have to spend time helping Kim?” he asked.

  “Apparently she’s talked the two mothers into it. She said Stuart is grateful that you’ve flown all the way from L.A., and he really wants to make sure you aren’t bored and lonely today.”

  “Oh, Kate, the conversational openings you leave me.” He sighed. “But I’m going to prove to you that I can be a gentleman and ignore them. I’m also going to assume you won’t be entertaining me in this cottage. So what do you have in mind?”

  “A sail.”

  He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do less than get back in a boat out on the water. But she looked so pleased with herself that he didn’t have the heart to say so. “I’d like that.”

  Her enthusiasm faded immediately. “You don’t want to. I can tell by the expression on your face. I should have thought of that, after the filming was so difficult and everything.”

  “I’d love to go for a sail.” He wasn’t used to having someone so tuned in to his moods. In less than twenty-four hours they’d become closer than he’d ever been with any other sexual partner. Maybe that was because he and Kate had spent too much time in this cozy setting. Sailing was exactly the kind of outdoor physical activity they needed.

  “There are some other things we could do. Maybe you’d rather see one of the lighthouses, or—”

  “No, sailing sounds perfect.” He was in no mood to tour a lighthouse, as sexually keyed up as he was. He saw them as huge phallic symbols, anyway. “Going out with you today will replace those bad memories of boats with good ones. Let’s do it.”

  She still looked doubtful.

  “Really, Kate. I haven’t taken a boat out for the fun of it in a long time.” He thought of something else to entice her. “You can bring your camera.”

  “I could, couldn’t I?” She brightened. “Are you sure this won’t be too much of a busman’s holiday for you?”

  “Not unless you’re planning to wreck us and make me save you.”

  She seemed skeptical. “Could you really do that? Save me, I mean?”

  Her question implied that maybe he couldn’t do that. He’d encountered this attitude before. Many people had the idea that because the situations in movies were fake, the stuntmen and women didn’t take very big risks, and that they would never manage such feats without help.

  The subject was one of his hot buttons, because he thought stuntpeople deserved more respect and recognition than they got. He started to give her the macho answer, one that would tell her in no uncertain terms that he was one bad dude capable of handling any challenge she might dream up.

  Then he changed his mind. Thinking that he was a hero had been what had turned her on in the first place, apparently. Perversely, he felt like reversing that image completely. “Probably not,” he said. “When it comes to real danger, I’m basically useless.”

  8

  ONCE THEY’D LEFT THE cottage, Kate began to feel better. That extravagant little house—which she’d probably pay for in full because, under the circumstances, she couldn’t let Stuart do it—was a constant reminder of her bungle. Technically she could ask Hugh to move into a cheaper room now that she knew he wasn’t the best man, but that lacked class. Shelling out her hard-earned cash for that place would be her penance for being such a d
ope.

  But as they walked beside the harbor in the sunshine, she grew more optimistic about how quickly she’d be able to get past this incident. The bustle of wedding activities would begin very soon, and that would force her to shove thoughts of Hugh to the back of her mind. All she had to do was spend a few more hours with him, and she’d be home free. The sailing plan was brilliant, because they’d be too busy working with the boat to get into any more trouble.

  She didn’t intend to get into any more trouble, regardless of their circumstances, but she’d like to avoid being alone in an enclosed space with him, in case her resolve wasn’t all it should be. He might be a swinging California stuntman instead of a heroic Chicago doctor, but he was still a hottie, and he looked way too much like Antonio Banderas.

  They grabbed what they decided to call brunch at an outdoor eatery overlooking the harbor. They both ordered soft-shelled crab sandwiches, and she decided not to make too much of how compatible their eating habits were. It didn’t matter. On Sunday he’d go back to L.A. and that would be that.

  The good meal in cheerful surroundings improved her mood even more. She’d always been invigorated by the sight of sailboats scudding along in the breeze. There was something so decadent and carefree about sailboats—they had the same panache as a convertible. From her seat at the table she had a panoramic view of bright boats with sails in every color of the rainbow.

  For the time being, she kept her camera in her purse. Much as she hated to admit it, she was fascinated by Hugh and didn’t feel like taking pictures of her surroundings. Now that she knew what he did for a living, she couldn’t resist asking him about the Hollywood stars he’d worked with.

  Besides the tales of her Grandpa Charlie’s heroism, she’d fed her dramatic soul with movies, and for a while had even dreamed of being an actress. But photography was the family business, and she’d been attracted to the idea of following in her father’s footsteps and taking over the studio in partnership with Kim. She had the uncomfortable thought that despite claiming a thirst for adventure, she hadn’t taken many authentic risks.