Geri Krotow - Colton's Mistaken Identity

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.