Unforgettable. Rhonda Nelson
it to George to sum it up so succinctly. His uncle had strong opinions and didn’t mind sharing them whether asked or not. Lex grinned. It was part of George’s charm. He was a little rough around the edges, but Oak Crest wouldn’t be the same without him. Couldn’t function without him, truth be told.
The minute his mother had retired to Florida—it had been too painful for her to remain at the lodge after his father died—George had set up shop in the kitchen and, in Lex’s opinion, there wasn’t a finer cook on this side of the mountain. He didn’t know what he’d do without him and, thankfully, wouldn’t ever have to find out. George was as much a part of the lodge now as the timbers that held it together.
Which was all the more reason why Lex had to keep it afloat. Too many people depended on him, George included. Lex shot a dark look at his crotch—at the hard-on that wouldn’t end. Rather than worrying about gorgeous Faith Bonner with her porn-star lips, he should probably try to concentrate on keeping a roof over their heads, he thought, disgusted.
SWEET HEAVEN, Faith thought, instantly calling Lex Ellenburg’s image to the forefront of her mind, he looked just like Nash.
Just. Like. Nash.
Her heart tripped an unsteady beat in her chest, and forcing air into her shallow lungs was proving to be damn near impossible. Her stomach somersaulted, did a few other gymnastic moves guaranteed to make her insides alternately soar and plummet. Her hands shook and her mouth grew parched.
He had the same coal-black hair and ice-blue eyes, the dimple in one lean cheek and that sexy cleft in his chin. Even the thin jagged scar that slashed across his temple. He was impossibly tall and broad shouldered, built like a Greek god, which seemed appropriate because she was more than willing to physically worship him…and certainly wouldn’t mind offering herself up as a sacrifice, either.
The man had every single physical trait she’d given Nash Austin more than four years ago. It absolutely astounded her. Blew her mind.
When she’d first opened her eyes and he’d been leaning over her…Faith gave a delicate shiver. Her foolish heart had leaped with joy and every single cell in her body had sung in recognition of him. Need had broadsided her, overwhelming and insistent, achy and hot.
And then reality had intruded in the form of her nearly weeping, overly dramatic assistant, and Faith’s memory had returned full force. The dream had receded, making her feel like a complete and total moron.
Honestly, it hadn’t been bad enough that she’d had to faint, make a fool of herself. No, she’d had to do it up nicely, blink drunkenly at him and whisper “Nash” like a lovesick fool. Where was a good crater when you needed one? Faith wondered, her face flushing with renewed embarrassment.
She’d taken one look at that big black dog—totally harmless, according to both Lex and Trudy—and she’d screamed and fainted like a ravished virgin in a bad B movie. One bad experience with a dog and she’d been scarred for life. Faith hated the weakness, hated the character flaw. Dogs were supposed to be man’s best friend. Just because she’d had an unfortunate run-in with a bipolar Chihuahua twenty years ago shouldn’t make her so damn phobic about them now.
“So what do you think of the place?” Trudy asked. “Nice, huh?”
Faith nodded, made a concerted effort to focus on her friend. Trudy had gone to a lot of trouble to make this a memorable weekend for her and her fans. The least she could do was show a little enthusiasm. “It’s lovely.”
Trudy had been admiring the view from the window, but turned to face her. A concerned line creased her brow and a cloud of worry darkened her hazel eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? You took quite a fall.”
“Positive.” Faith shot her a sheepish look. “I can’t believe I fainted.” She rolled her eyes, rubbed an imaginary wrinkle from between her own brows. “God, how embarrassing.” She exhaled mightily, dropped onto the foot of the bed and fell back.
Trudy’s eyes twinkled. She crossed her arms over her chest and rocked back lightly on her heels. “It was positively dramatic.”
Faith humphed under her breath. “Great.”
“Particularly the way Mr. Ellenburg raced around the building, then scooped you up in his powerful arms and brought you inside. He’d been quite worried, you know.”
Faith snorted indelicately. “I imagine the word lawsuit was flashing through his head.”
Trudy toed her shoes off and sank into one of the big cushy chairs positioned in front of the window. She hummed thoughtfully under her breath. “That was not the impression I got.”
Her silly heart did a cartwheel. “Oh?”
“There was definitely something else at work there,” Trudy said consideringly. “His eyes seemed magnetized to your body…as were his hands. He did a thorough search.”
Heat flared in her belly and her head whipped around to where Trudy sat. “What?”
“Not to worry,” Trudy chuckled. “He didn’t molest you…but I wouldn’t mind him checking me over for broken bones.” She gave a misty sigh. “It was very romantic.”
So he’d felt her up and she didn’t even have the pleasure of remembering it? Faith thought, unreasonably disappointed. Well, wasn’t that just par for the course? A great-looking guy had his hands all over her, swept her into his arms and carried her to safety—a truly heroic moment, probably the only one she’d ever have in her life—and she had absolutely no recall of it whatsoever.
Damn.
Trudy slid her a sly glance. “He wasn’t the only one who seemed intrigued. You, for instance, couldn’t keep your eyes off him.”
Faith knew she should offer some token protest, but couldn’t muster the effort. What was the point? Her gaze had been glued to him like flypaper, as the rest of her would have been if she’d let herself. She’d been utterly fascinated by him. Hadn’t been able to help herself. She shot her friend a slightly embarrassed look. “I know,” she admitted. “But doesn’t he remind you of someone?”
Surely she wasn’t the only one who saw it, Faith thought. The resemblance was so strong that anyone who was familiar with her work should be able to spot it. Trudy most definitely should.
Her friend seemed to consider the question for a moment, then to Faith’s astonishment, she shook her head. “No, I can’t say that he does.”
“Think, Trudy,” Faith pressed, rolling over onto her side. “Black hair, blue eyes, scar at the temple. Sound familiar?”
Trudy gave her a blank look. “Should it?”
Annoyed, she sat up. Good grief. Trudy critiqued for her, proofread. How could she not know? “Yes,” Faith said, thoroughly exasperated.
Trudy offered a small shrug. “Sorry, honey. I’m lost.”
If she wasn’t reading her books any closer than that, she might be fired, Faith thought ominously. “Trudy,” she said with exaggerated patience. “He looks like Nash.”
Trudy’s perplexed expression was not comforting. “Nash?”
“Yes, Nash.”
She gave her head a small shake. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does,” Faith insisted. “Black hair, blue eyes, and the scar. He’s tall, dark and handsome. He’s Nash,” she insisted.
“Well, he’s not how I pictured Nash,” Trudy said skeptically. “Not how I pictured him at all.”
Faith blinked. “He’s not?”
“No.” She chuckled under her breath, cocked her head and assessed her with an annoyingly shrewd gleam that made Faith want to alternately scream and squirm. “But it’s funny that you think he does, isn’t it?”
Funny?