Double Exposure

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  He winked at her. “Never.”

  “I’ll bet I could tell you apart now, though.”

  “Uh-huh. Harry’s the one with the stethoscope permanently attached to his ears.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled at him. “And you’re the one with all the muscles.”

  Whoops. This was turning into a flirtation, and he didn’t have the time—or the inclination, surprisingly. “All brawn and no brain,” he said. “Listen, I happen to be on my way to Harry’s room, so if Kate’s is anywhere nearby, I’ll be glad to run this suitcase up for you.”

  “Oh. Well, certainly, if you like. She’s in Room Eighteen, which connects with her sister’s room. I guess the bridesmaids are planning a slumber party up there. I think it’s so sweet that the bride and groom are staying in separate rooms tonight.”

  “Yeah.” Hugh hadn’t known that. His remaining hope that Kate might change her mind and slip away to the cottage dimmed. “By the way, I’ll be picking up the tab for the cottage.”

  “That’s not what I was told.”

  “I know. But that’s the way I want it.” He took out his wallet and handed her his credit card. “If you’ll take care of that while I’m up talking to Harry, I’ll be back by in a few minutes.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Armstrong.” She looked as if she wanted to flirt some more.

  Hugh kept his tone businesslike. “Thanks.” He left the sitting room quickly and headed for the stairs, certain that he’d confused the hell out of the woman. Flirting had become a reflex and he’d always enjoyed the response until now. That was another bad sign that he was headed for a fall.

  Upstairs he passed Number Twelve and continued on to Number Eighteen. He heard several women talking inside. Well, damn it. He’d brought the suitcase on the off chance that she’d be alone. She might never be alone again the entire weekend.

  He had to rap hard before the conversation stopped and footsteps approached the door. It opened and he looked into green eyes that were almost Kate’s eyes, but not quite. The mischief was missing.

  The woman’s eyes widened. “My God, you really do look exactly like Harry.”

  “You must be Kim.” He glanced past her and saw that the room was a jumble of clothes and suitcases. There were three other women in the room, but he barely noticed what they looked like as his hungry gaze sought out Kate.

  Wrapped in a bathrobe, she’d obviously just stepped out of the shower. She eyed him warily, and he knew she must be wondering why he’d brought the suitcase instead of having some member of the staff deliver it.

  “Hi, Kate,” he said. “Somebody downstairs said you needed this, and I was on my way up to see Harry, so I offered to bring it to you.”

  “Thanks.” The hair at her neckline was damp, exactly as it had been when he’d found her in the whirlpool that morning.

  “You’re welcome.” As he stood there thinking about what had happened in the whirlpool, he almost missed the fact that Kim had spoken to him. He glanced down at her. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you enjoyed your sail this afternoon.” She gazed at him with a curious smile.

  “Yes.” And he didn’t dare spend any time remembering what he and Kate had done in that sailboat or he was liable to embarrass everyone, including himself. Kim apparently suspected something was going on, and all she had to do was talk to her parents to have it confirmed. “Hey, I know you all have to get ready, so I’ll take off. Kate, I’ll meet you downstairs in about twenty minutes.”

  She nodded.

  This was all wrong, he thought. She should be with him, down in that cottage, not up here pretending she didn’t care about him. He had the insane urge to march in there and throw her over his shoulder. Something was going seriously haywire in his brain for him to be having thoughts like that.

  She was just another woman. In two more days she’d be a memory.

  But he didn’t believe a word of it as he turned away from her door. He had a strong feeling that sometime in the past few hours his life had changed, and it was never changing back.

  As he walked toward Harry’s room he had the distinct impression that Kim was watching him and that she knew exactly how deep he’d fallen. As they said in the cop movies, he’d been made.

  11

  THE MINUTE KIM CLOSED the door, Kate raced across the room to grab her overnight case so she could escape into the bathroom again.

  Kim was quicker. She pulled it out of reach. “Not until you ’fess up, girl!”

  “Yeah, is he a hottie, or what? Just like his brother!” Ruth bounced on the bed like a six-year-old. Her dark curly hair bounced with her.

  “I wanna know if you’re hooked up with him or not.” Sabrina’s blue eyes shone with eagerness. Long, lithe and blond, she sat with her legs tucked under her in the lotus position. “Because you acted très disinterested. So if you don’t want him, I think I just met my karma for the weekend.”

  “I can’t believe we have a matched set of these guys.” Bette, a highlighted brunette, lounged on the bed and munched a candy bar. “If Kate’s got a lock on this one, maybe I can check out the other one, what’s-his-name. Dr. Harry.”

  “Hang on, I’ve got dibs on Dr. Harry,” Ruth said.

  “Do not!” Bette said. “Damn, but I shoulda lost those ten pounds before this weekend. Maybe I should starve myself between now and the wedding, go on a twenty-four-hour fast.” She frowned. “But then I might faint.”

  Kim put the suitcase behind her and crossed her arms. “No point in suffering until we know the situation. Kate, you were weird on the phone this morning, and just now the guy’s tongue was dragging the floor, but you pretended he was, like, no more important than the bellman. What’s up?”

  Kate gazed at her sister, who knew her inside and out. Then she glanced around at their three best friends. They’d bonded with Ruth and Sabrina in first grade. Bette had moved to Providence in fifth and the gang had immediately appropriated her because she made them all laugh until they peed their pants. If Kate had imagined she could keep a secret from any of these women, she’d been delusional.

  So she told them the whole story—or most of the story. She toned down the sex, because even best friends didn’t need to know those kinds of details. She also made it very clear that Hugh was interested in a weekend fling, not a long-term relationship, and that until her parents had caught them kissing in public, she’d been ready to go along with his plan.

  By the time she finished talking, they were all staring at her with their mouths open, and Stuart was pounding on the door.

  “Hey, we’re late!” he yelled. “Get a move on, ladies!”

  “You can’t tell anybody,” Kate said.

  They all looked insulted.

  “I mean you really can’t tell,” Kate added as she reached for her suitcase and quickly unzipped it while Stuart continued to bang on the door.

  “We won’t,” Kim promised quietly. Then she raised her voice. “All right, Stuart! Don’t break it down! We’re almost ready!”

  “If we’re not at the Belcourt in ten minutes they’ll cancel the rehearsal!” Stuart sounded very agitated.

  “I’m so sorry.” Kate started pulling things out of her suitcase, looking for the outfit she’d planned to wear that night. “I’m making everyone late, as usual, and I—” She stopped abruptly as she jerked out a pair of capris and the condom box sailed out with them, spilling its contents on the floor.

  “Too perfect!” Bette slid off the bed and started grabbing condoms. “Just what this weekend needed.”

  And they all plopped to the floor, snatching up condoms and laughing as they pelted each other with them.

  All except Kate. “Stop, stop!” She wasn’t used to being the responsible party, but everyone seemed to have forgotten about the rehearsal. “Hey, we have to get going!”

  Kim staggered to her feet, still laughing. “Attention, everybody.” She cleared her throat. “The bride has an announcement to make. We are can
celing the rehearsal.”

  “No!” Kate threw off the bathrobe she’d borrowed and pawed around for her underwear. “I can make it! You guys go ahead, and I’ll drive over. I’ll be right behind you. I can—”

  “Nope.” Kim put her hands on her hips. “This is exactly the kind of thing Stuart and I talked about during our little retreat on Block Island. We promised ourselves that we’d bend the schedule to fit the people, not vice versa. Come to think of it, I like the idea of going with no rehearsal. That will make the ceremony more spontaneous and less formal.”

  “Well said,” Bette agreed. “We don’t need no stinkin’ rehearsal. Hell, the five of us have been to a gazillion weddings. If we can’t muddle through this, we’re truly pathetic.”

  Kate found her underwear and put it on. “Well, I feel like it’s all my fault.”

  “Forget about it,” Kim said. “This is for the best.”

  “What about Gillian, though?” Ruth asked. “I think Andrea wanted her to do at least one walk-through. She’s never been a flower girl before.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Kim said. “Even if she screws up, it’ll be comic relief. No problem.” Then she walked over to the door and opened it a crack. “Stuart?”

  “Yeah? What’s going on in there? Sounds like a circus. Are you—”

  “We’re going to bag the rehearsal.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  On the other side of the door, there was a long pause.

  Kate looked at her friends and stifled a giggle.

  “That’s it?” Stuart said, clearly baffled. “Just because?”

  “That’s it,” Kim said. “So if you’ll kindly call the Belcourt and notify them and Reverend Applegate, that would be great.”

  “But—”

  “We can go over our vows during Happy Hour at the restaurant. Oh, and please call Andrea and tell her the rehearsal’s canceled, but we’re sure Gillian will be fine.”

  After another long pause, Stuart uttered a resigned, “Okay.” Then he left.

  Kim closed the door, and Bette sighed dramatically. “Oh, Kim, he’s going to make a wonderful husband. He didn’t argue or anything.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t really want to go to the rehearsal either.” Kim glanced at Kate. “And now that we have a little spare time, let’s figure out how we can cover for you.”

  “Cover? What do you mean?”

  “C’mon, Kate. If we can take Mom and Dad out of the equation, wouldn’t you like to have your weekend fling, after all?”

  AS HUGH SAT SEPARATED from Kate by miles of restaurant table crowded with plates, food and glasses, he tried to figure out what had happened after he’d left her suitcase in the roomful of women. Something had gone down in that room, something that had caused the rehearsal to be canceled. But Kim and her bridesmaids seemed to have closed ranks to keep him away from Kate, and Kate was the only one he felt comfortable asking about the whole strange development.

  Eliminating the rehearsal meant that nobody had to drive because the restaurant was within walking distance of the Townsend House. Once Kate, Kim and the bridesmaids had finally trooped downstairs, the whole wedding party had formed a noisy brigade that marched to the harborside restaurant Kim and Stuart had picked for the rehearsal dinner.

  During that procession and all during the dinner that followed, Hugh couldn’t shake the feeling that the bridesmaids knew what had happened between him and Kate. They seemed to pay no attention to him whatsoever, other than being normally polite, but every once in a while he’d catch one of them giving him a look. Yeah, they knew. Kate had told them.

  That sort of irritated him, after the way she’d carried on about not mentioning it to a soul. But it was her secret to tell or not tell, so he’d keep his end of the bargain. Harry suspected something was up, though. When Hugh had stopped by Harry’s room after dropping off the suitcase, Harry had seen right through his nonchalance and had point-blank asked what was wrong. Hugh had shrugged off the question and made a quick exit with the excuse that he had to shower.

  Since then Harry and Hugh hadn’t been alone. The party was becoming loud and boisterous, as all good rehearsal dinners should be, Hugh thought, especially when the participants had totally skipped the rehearsal. While they’d all waited for their food to arrive, Reverend Applegate had created a little diorama of the wedding setup on the long table by using glass-ware, silverware and the salt and pepper shakers.

  Kim had been a stemmed goblet and Stuart a sturdy water glass. Kate was the pepper, which Hugh thought was appropriate, and Harry was the salt. The bridesmaids were forks, the groomsmen spoons, and when the parents of the bride and groom refused to be knives, the minister had substituted drink coasters. Gillian, the little flower girl, was represented by a sugar packet. From what Hugh could gather, her mother had decided to keep her home and get her to bed early instead of bringing her to the restaurant.

  Hugh sat between Stuart’s stepmother, the vegetarian, and Nick, Kate’s rolling-stone brother. Nick had inherited his mother’s coloring and didn’t look a lot like Kate, but every once in a while Hugh saw a reflection of her in the curve of Nick’s mouth or the lift of an eyebrow. He liked Nick, but he was sure John and Emily Cooper had told Nick about the kiss-on-the-street incident, because Kate’s brother treated him with caution.

  Harry was directly across the table. Stuart had badgered them into doing their identical twin thing—a pantomime in which Hugh mirrored Harry’s every movement. They’d been performing the pantomime since they were ten, but Hugh nearly screwed up the ancient routine because he was so distracted by Kate down at the far end of the long table. Their corny slapstick was a hit, anyway. With all the liquor being consumed, Hugh thought a fifth-rate flea circus would be a hit.

  Moments later Harry announced that the waitress was taking entirely too long bringing another round of Long Island Iced Teas. “Come on, bro. Let’s go see if we can find those drinks ourselves,” he said.

  Hugh was sure Harry was creating an opportunity to grill him, but he couldn’t very well refuse to help the best man keep the guests well oiled. “Be glad to,” he said.

  Sure enough, the minute they were out of earshot of the table, Harry started in. “You haven’t taken your eyes off Kate Cooper all night. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Should I?” Hugh aimed for the bar. He’d been taking it easy on the booze, so he thought he could outwit Harry, who was rediscovering his fondness for Long Island Iced Tea.

  “Let me put it this way,” Harry said. “You look like you need a friend, and I’m your best bet.”

  Hugh sighed. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Not from where I’m sitting. Or walking.” Harry chuckled. “Or weaving, actually. Whatever. I’ve seen you with a lot of girls, and this is a whole new you. The brother I know has never drooled openly.”

  “I’m not drooling.”

  “The hell you’re not.” They’d reached the bar. “Just a sec. Let me get this handled.” He conferred with the bartender and found out the drink order had been misplaced, so he put in a new one and said they’d take it back to the table themselves.

  Then he turned his back to the bar and leaned against it. “Okay, I know you spent all day with her. Stuart told me. Now you’re acting strange, and so’s she, for that matter. And another thing, her folks are giving both of you the hairy eyeball.”

  Hugh wondered if his brother was soused enough to forget all of this after tonight. It would be a relief to unburden himself to someone, and Harry was right—he couldn’t do any better than his twin brother.

  He decided to explain as much as he could without revealing anything he’d promised to keep secret. “You know how I always look for a fatal flaw, so I won’t get hung up on anybody?”

  “Oh, yeah. The fatal flaw concept. Did I ever tell you I thought that was bullshit?”

  Hugh shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the neon Budweiser sign hanging over the
back of the bar. “Yep. And I guess it is, because this time it isn’t working.”

  “Holy moly. You’ve found the perfect woman.”

  “Isn’t that a kick in the head?” Hugh met his brother’s gaze. “I can’t find a damn thing wrong with her. She’s getting to me, bro.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day. But I notice the two of you are not, like, together.”

  “You noticed that, huh? Well, part of that’s my fault, because I’m scared to death, and the other part is, she’s looking for a genuine hero, not some slob who pretends to be a hero for the benefit of the camera.”

  Harry blew out a breath. “There’s your fatal flaw. She’s an idiot.”

  “No, she’s not! She’s right! I don’t pretend to be a prize. I can’t imagine any woman would want to hook up with me for the long haul. I’m not—”

  “Damn it, Hugh, when are you gonna stop running?”

  Hugh stared at him. They’d never really talked about this, and undoubtedly Harry wouldn’t have brought it up now, except that he was mildly sloshed. “When are you?” Hugh countered. “You’ve dated enough nurses to staff a hospital, but this is the closest to the altar you’ve ever come, being best man for Stuart.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Harry gave him a lopsided grin. “There’s a shrink at the hospital who has me all figured out.”

  “And?”

  The grin slipped a little. “She told me the only way I’ll ever get over that thing with Joe is if I make a commitment to somebody, take a risk.”

  Hugh rubbed the back of his neck. “I take risks all the time, and I’m not over it.”

  “She meant emotional risks, buddy-boy. She said I’m stuck in the phase where I think it’s too chancy to care about somebody.”

  “You care about your patients, and don’t tell me you don’t.”