by Debbie Mason
It was time to get to work. She checked her phone as she made her way toward them, stopping in her tracks as she read through Ty’s texts. The first one was a selfie of Ty leaning against Harry, who was driving with a beleaguered expression on his handsome face, while Ty mouthed hot. In the second text he informed Cat that his lordship had been questioning him about her trip to London, but not to worry, he hadn’t given anything away. Her phone rang just as she was texting him back. She wanted a word-for-word account of the exchange. Moving to a quiet corner in the room, Cat faced the giant snowman and answered, “Hey, Ty, are—”
“Oh my God, you are not going to believe this! Sam has a gun!”
“Okay, calm down. Where is he? Can he see you?”
“No, he’s in his room at the lodge. Harry just dropped me off, and I thought I’d better have eyes on the suspect, you know. So I peeked through his patio door. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. Stay away from him. I’ll figure out how to get him out of his room tonight and search it.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll come up with a plan.”
“No, Ty, I’m serious…” She sensed someone approaching. “I’ll call you back.” She disconnected. “Hi, George.”
The actor scanned the church hall. “Where’s your lap dog?”
She stiffened. “Pardon me?”
“Your sister. I can never get a private word with you these days without her around.” With a petulant look on his face, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his black pants.
Cat let his comment go. She had more important things to worry about than his rude remark. “She’s out of town for a couple of days. But you know I always have time for you, George. How are you enjoying my hometown?”
“Feels like I’m in a time warp, but it’s all right. People are friendly enough and big fans of the show. Which is what I wanted to discuss with you. I know what you’re up to, and it has to stop.”
At this point she’d expect to see some of sign of anger on his face, but she didn’t. He acted as though he was dealing with a recalcitrant child. “I’m not up to—”
He drew his hand from his pocket and stroked her hair, an indulgent smile on his face. “We’re more alike than you know. We both have the same goal. But you’re going about it the wrong way. The audience wants us together, not you and Rand Livingstone.” His thin upper lip curled, and then he continued. “I’ve spoken to Phil. This past year hasn’t been easy on me, and I’ve let you and the show down.” A vein at his temple throbbed. Now there was the flash of temper she’d been waiting for. “Phil says—”
“Chloe, there you are, my dear,” Estelle cut off George, nudging him out of the way to take Cat’s arm. “Harry’s arrived.” She pointed her cane at Nell’s table.
Trying to get a read on George, Cat hadn’t noticed Harry enter the hall. But obviously he’d noticed her. Chloe, she reminded herself, when his intent gaze sent off a tiny tremor in her stomach. When he removed his black wool coat, Nell tied a white “Kiss the Cook” apron around his waist.
“If you don’t mind, I was having a conversation with my… Chloe.”
Cat had the oddest feeling he’d been about to say “wife.” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d wondered if George had confused fantasy with reality. Maybe as a way to cope with his wife leaving him, he’d transferred his feelings for her to his fake wife. But that wouldn’t give him a motive for killing Chloe. Unless… Tessa Hart was having an affair with Rand Livingstone.
“You’ll have to continue it at another time. As you can see, the publicist wants her.”
It was true, the woman was waving them over to Nell’s table. “We can finish our conversation as soon as I see what she wants, George.”
His eyes narrowed at the publicist and Harry. “It better not be what I think it is, or heads will roll.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Estelle said, “There’s something not quite right with that man.”
“What do you mean?” At this point, Cat welcomed any insights into her suspect. Even Estelle’s.
“We don’t have time to talk about it,” the older woman said as she helped Cat out of the fur coat. “We have just been presented with the perfect opportunity to put our plan into action.”
Great, Estelle and Chloe had a plan. Cat tugged the sweater’s neckline higher. Her sister may like to show off her girls, but Cat’s were going undercover. And since she didn’t want Estelle to blow her cover, she hoped the older woman enlightened her about their plan.
They were a few feet from the table where Harry stood looking deliciously edible when Nell waved a gingerbread man in the air. “Get a kiss with your cookies, ladies. Two dollars for a kiss and a cookie.”
A horde of women stampeded in their direction.
“Make it count, my dear,” Estelle murmured, shoving Cat at the table.
The push caused Cat to wobble on her heels. If not for Harry reaching across the table, encircling her biceps with his strong hands, she would have fallen on her face. Something her sister would never do. So it was imperative that Cat put on a believable performance. She fluffed her hair, did a flirty head tilt, and batted her fake eyelashes. “I’ll take two, Harry.” She puckered her lips.
His mouth flattened, a muscle ticking in his clenched jaw. Then he leaned toward her. It’s possible he said bloody hell under his breath as he lowered his head, but she couldn’t be sure because everything went a little fuzzy the moment his warm, firm lips touched hers. She tasted mint, smelled his expensive cologne, and drew closer, placing her hands on his shoulders to avoid toppling over. Okay, so it was an excuse, but she was sure her sister would have taken advantage of the situation in exactly the same way.
Her mouth softened, her fingers tightening on his broad shoulders as her lips parted. She was just getting into the kiss, and it was some kiss, when his mouth left hers. He took what appeared to be a startled step back. She understood the reaction—the kiss had rocked her world, too.
“Hang on, I need a picture for the Chronicle,” Nell said, putting down the cookie to pick up her cell phone. “Okay, go for it.”
In the background, she heard George saying something to Phil about breaking his promise. Harry looked over her head, then back at her. An emotion she couldn’t read darkened his blue eyes, then he brought his hands to the sides of her face and did as Nell suggested. He went for it.
Gently tilting her head so his lips slanted over hers at a precise angle, he gave her a deep, passionate kiss. It was long and lush, and breath-stealingly perfect. Her eyes were still closed, her head tipped up, when she realized she was kissing air. Blinking her eyes open, she stared at him. Acting as though he was completely unaffected, as if he hadn’t felt the same emotional rush of desire, he handed her two cookies.
If that was a kiss from an uninterested man, she’d eat…
“That will be four dollars, Chloe.” His words were cool and clipped, his back ramrod straight.
And her heart, that seconds ago had been dancing to a happy beat, froze. It wasn’t her he was kissing. It was her sister.
Chapter Twelve
The pilot left them on the top of the mountain, the thump-thump of the helicopter’s rotor blades drowning out Chloe’s conversation with their guide. Last night, when they got word Phil wanted to film the heli-skiing scene today instead of later in the week, she’d seemed as pumped as Grayson was. But now faced with the reality of a two-thousand-foot vertical run, he wondered if she was having second thoughts. Which would have been the reaction he expected from her.
Then again, she’d surprised him a couple times in the last twenty-four hours. She seemed different since her sister left. An intriguing different. And the kiss they’d shared yesterday at the Christmas bazaar had him rethinking his vow to never date another actress. At least for the brief time he’d had his mouth on hers. Then he’d felt guilty for that sizzle of heat and desire that shook him from his head to his toes. As if somehow he was cheating on Cat with her siste
r.
He pushed the memory aside. The sooner he solved the case the better. Bad enough the O’Connor women were encroaching on his vacation time, he didn’t need them messing with his head, too. As though she read his mind, Chloe turned to him with a wide smile that deepened the dimple at the corner of her mouth. He felt a possessive tug at the sight of that small, inward curve. It belonged to Cat, not her sister. Or had he simply not noticed that Chloe had one, too? He was slipping if that were the case. But in his defense, before yesterday, he hadn’t looked at Chloe the way he did Cat.
Chloe’s smile faded. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good.” He adjusted his goggles. “What about you, are you nervous?”
“No, I… Well, maybe a little,” she admitted self-consciously, then bent to fiddle with her skis.
He sidestepped closer, reaching out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder when she straightened. She wore a hot-pink ski suit that showed off her feminine curves. Curves that he hadn’t paid much attention to until yesterday. But after seeing the way she filled out her low-cut sweater and the flash of her shapely leg, he hadn’t been able to think of much else.
“Don’t worry, love. I won’t let you out of my sight. You’ll be fine.”
“Oh, Harry, I know you’ll take care of me. I wouldn’t have agreed to do this without you by my side.” She rubbed her chest and took several gulping breaths. “But I’m a little worried about the altitude. My heart condition, you know. It’s why I’ve never done this before.”
Now this was the Chloe he’d come to know. And while it erased some of his earlier guilt, he resented the fact he’d have to babysit her instead of enjoying the run. “Do you need to take one of your pills?”
“I took three. But thank you for asking. You’re such a thoughtful man.”
“I don’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, Chloe. I’m sure Phil would agree to have a stunt double take your place.” He gestured to the tall Swede who was on his radio. “I can ask our guide to contact him.” Phil was at the bottom of the run with the cameraman. Grayson waited patiently, hoping she’d say yes.
She chewed on her gloved thumb, taking in, he imagined, the sheer drop, the dark, rushing water to the right of the tree line, and the huge granite walls on either side. As an added incentive for her to bail, he said, “If you’re concerned about an avalanche, don’t be. Our guide is trained, and the conditions aren’t conducive to one. At least I don’t think they are.”
“You know exactly what to say to a woman to make her feel safe, Harry.”
He frowned, detecting a hint of sarcasm in her voice. But she gave him a wide, trusting smile, and he decided he’d been mistaken. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, positively. Anything for the show, you know. And it’s not as if I’m a beginner.”
“I bloody well hope not.” Well that came out more forcefully than he intended, but this had disaster written all over it. He worked to clear the frustration from his voice. “Perhaps we should go over a few things first, my dear.”
Before she could argue, he slid back on his skis to give himself some room, and then began instructing her on the basics. As he looked up from showing her a side-to-side move, explaining how to stay in control, he caught her mid–eye roll.
“Am I boring you?”
She pushed a finger under her pink-tinted goggles. “No, my eyelash got stuck.”
Why the woman went skiing in full makeup was beyond him. It wasn’t as if they were shooting a close-up. Her sister wouldn’t. At the thought, he found himself wishing he was here with Cat instead of Chloe. Maybe before he left, he could convince her to ski with him.
He forced a smile. “Just one more tip. If you’re going to fall, go with it. Don’t try to correct yourself with your poles or skis, sit down. There’s no shame in falling.” He had a feeling she’d be falling more than skiing. And as someone trained to read a person’s body language, at that moment, he had the unnerving feeling she wanted to push him off the mountain.
“You’ve been very helpful, Harry. I’ll try my best not to hold you back.” She gave him a tremulous smile, one that had him feeling somewhat guilty for his unkind thoughts.
The guide skied to their side. “All right, folks. We’re good to go. I’m ready when you are.”
Chloe waved her ski pole. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“It’s probably best if I follow behind.”
“No, my lord. I don’t think it is.” She placed her hand on his back and gave him a light shove. He stared down at her. There was something odd… She rubbed her cheek against the arm of his black ski jacket, then tipped her head back to flutter her eyes at him. “I don’t want to embarrass myself.”
“All right, then. See you at the bottom.” He pushed off the edge of the mountain, and all thoughts of Chloe and Cat gave way to the thrill of the drop. He let the raw beauty of the pristine wilderness, the snow-blanketed tress sink in as he absorbed the peaceful stillness, exalting in the exhilarating sense of freedom. The only sound the whoosh of his skis cutting through the deep powder, the cold, fresh air whistling past his ears.
And then he heard an excited feminine whoop. Bloody hell, he’d forgotten about Chloe. He shot an apprehensive glance over his shoulder, only to have a blur of pink swish past him. Through a massive cloud of powder, he saw her black helmet. He watched in awe as she commanded the slope. Her body crouched over her skis as she expertly carved through the snow. Her movements were graceful and powerful, and he could almost feel her uninhibited joy. An overwhelming need came over him, and he crouched lower, increasing his speed. He wanted to see her face, experience this with her instead of being a spectator.
“You’re a liar, Chloe O’Connor,” he yelled as he closed in on her.
She swiveled her head in his direction and laughed, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling. “No, I’m an actress.”
And before he could respond, she sent up a spray of snow that covered him from head to toe. By the time he cleared his goggles, she was yards ahead of him, taking a mogul with the finesse of a pro. A wave of lust hit him as hard as his skis hit surface crust moments later, as hard as the day he’d felt Cat’s gun under her leather jacket and the day she’d taken down the head of Chloe’s fan club. He lost control and flew into the air. He landed hard on his back, knocking the wind out of himself, his skis tangled together. He groaned, struggling to unlock his skis and sit up.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Chloe yelled from where she’d stopped near the bottom of the run.
No, he was not bloody all right. He was in lust with two women, two sisters. “Jolly good,” he yelled back, like the idiot he was.
* * *
Cat stood in the stall in the ladies’ room at the Penalty Box, staring at her cell phone, willing her sister to call. She’d talked to Chloe last night around eleven London time. Her audition had been delayed. Cat prayed that was the reason she was incommunicado. Better yet, she was on the damn plane and heading home. Not that it would help Cat now. Despite what Chloe had told her, they were filming today. And unlike the heli-skiing scene this morning, Cat actually had to speak. She could have used some tips.
She heard the outer door open and what sounded like someone hyperventilating. A male someone. It’s too bad the brown leather pants and tight turtleneck sweater she currently had on made it impossible for her to conceal a gun. Setting the script on the back of the toilet, she placed a high-heeled boot on the seat, pulling herself up to peek over the stall. Ty leaned against the exposed log wall with the back of his hand pressed to his brow.
She hopped off the toilet and opened the stall door. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is I’m in hot guy heaven, and they’re all straight. Which means I’m in gay man hell.”
She pressed her lips together. The men of Christmas had been roped into playing extras in the bar scene by their wives.
“Easy for you to laugh. You have Tall, Dark,
and Fabulous following your every move with those true-blue eyes of his. It’s not fair.”
If she’d been laughing, her laughter would have died an untimely death at Ty’s observation. She didn’t like the way Harry had been looking at her since their morning on the mountain. Or more to the point, at her sister. Because that’s who he thought she was. Until today, those amused, admiring looks had been for her and her alone. She’d been hoping it was her imagination, but obviously it wasn’t if Ty had noticed, too.
“He’s following Chloe’s every move, not mine.”
Ty’s eyes widened behind his red-framed glasses, and he pressed his fingers to his mouth. “You’re right. That no-good cheater. We should have known he was too good to be true.”
“We’d have to be in a relationship for him to be a cheater, Ty. We weren’t, we’re not, and we never will be.” She ignored the small pinch in her chest. It shouldn’t be there anyway.
“You wanted to be, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.” He pushed off the wall and came to her. “If he can’t see past this,” he said, gently tugging on an extension, “he doesn’t deserve you. But out there is a plethora of men, hot men, and it’s time for you to get back in the game.”
“I don’t want to be in the game. Games are exhausting and—”
“Fun. You need some fun. You deserve some fun. And if I’m not going to have any, the least you can do is let me live vicariously through you.” He took her by the shoulders and steered her to the counter beside the sinks. “Get your delicious leather-clad butt up there, and while I fix your makeup, you can check out the merchandise.” He handed her his phone, thumbing through pictures of familiar male faces. “Why don’t you start with this one? He has the face of a fallen angel, and his hands and feet are—” He broke off when Vivian Westfield, now McBride, popped her head in.