Читать книгу The Beauty Queen's Makeover - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 7

All she’d wanted was to sit by the pool and feel the sun on her skin.

Today was the first day in a over a year that Kathryn Price had gone out in public without a scarf covering her face. She should have known better. Someone was coming and any second whoever it was would see what she’d been hiding.

If it would help, she’d shout “The British are coming,” since she just happened to be staying at the Paul Revere Inn outside of Boston. But that would only attract the attention she was trying so hard to avoid. The voices on the other side of the hedge told her there was just enough time for a clean getaway. She wasn’t ready to face people and when people got a good look at her face, the feeling was mutual. So she got up from the chaise lounge and headed for the other gate out of the pool area.

It had been a year since she’d been in the media spotlight. Three hundred and sixty-five days since her accident had been the lead story on the nightly news, not to mention magazines and tabloids. It was unlikely anyone would remember her as the model on her way to being the “it” girl. Now she was the poor unfortunate who would never make the swimsuit cover of Sports Illustrated—not with the scars left from repairing that shattered leg. The hardware holding it together would set off metal detectors at the airport. But on the off chance someone recognized her, she wasn’t prepared to deal with curious stares and pitying glances.

As she hurried through the exit, she glanced over her shoulder, then slammed into what felt like a solid brick wall. The collision bounced her backward and she would have landed on her fanny except for the strong hands that reached out and grabbed her. But those same strong hands pinned her arms and she couldn’t secure her oversize sunglasses, which had landed at her feet and left her bare face exposed.

“Whoa, Sparky.” Laughter rumbled through his deep voice. “Where’s the fire?”

Human contact. That was exactly what she’d been escaping from. And this was male human contact, her worst-case scenario. Damn it. Served her right for ignoring her gut feeling to stay in her room. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing here. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Literally she was at this hotel because it was the only decent place to stay near Saunders University. And she was staying because her teacher, mentor and old friend from Saunders had sent out a distress signal.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, stepping away from the stranger. “My glasses,” she said, starting to pick them up.

“Allow me,” he offered gallantly, then leaned over and beat her to it.

Once upon a time she’d been agile enough to make even this tall, athletic-looking man look like the tortoise to her hare. But the accident had changed that. And the fact that he was staring intently made her nervous. She half turned, keeping the left side of her face in shadow.

“May I have my glasses, please?” If there was a God in heaven, she sounded cool and controlled in a sophisticated sort of way. Not needy, insecure and wishing to be anywhere but here.

“Sorry. Of course. How could I refuse a pretty lady?”

Her? Pretty? Kathryn barely held back a bitter laugh. She used to be. But the accident had changed that, too. Nothing about her life was as it had been.

“Thank you,” she said. “Now I’ll be going and get out of your way.”

She secured the glasses on her nose, and brushed her fingertips along her cheek to make sure everything was covered the way she wanted it. When she was satisfied, she glanced up and did a double take. The man could only be described as drop-dead gorgeous. In her line of work—make that former work—she’d met and posed with People magazine’s sexiest man alive. This guy could win that cover hands down. He was the walking, talking, breathing embodiment of tall, tan, hunky heartthrob.

He was six feet two if he was an inch and his hair was shot with reddish-brown highlights. Brown eyes brimming with warmth and humor studied her from a face that was… Chiseled was a word straight out of a romance novel and probably a cliché. But she’d been out of circulation too long to be up on the current catchy slang and her brain was shouting hubba hubba so loud, she couldn’t think of a better description. So, chiseled worked for her.

His nose was perfectly straight, his jaw square with a hint of an indentation. It was a lean, handsome face—and his body was a perfect match. She knew quality when she saw it and the expensive navy-blue suit was tailor-made, setting off his wide shoulders to perfection. The red power tie was the cherry on top of a very impressive sundae. For a lot of reasons, she wasn’t easily impressed. But he was flawless. It was a lot of information to pick up in a glance, so it must have been the double take. Although it was useless information. She’d never been very good with men and she didn’t need more information to process the fact that this one was way out of her league.

“I have to go now,” she said.

He didn’t move aside. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’re the White Rabbit? And you’re late for a very important date?”

Her? A date? Hardly. If only she could be the Rabbit and escape down the rabbit hole. But escape seemed less urgent somehow. There was something about his voice—a sensation of comfort as the warm richness of it drizzled over her like melted fudge. A memory nipped at the edge of her mind but refused to crystallize. For some weird reason and against all the odds, the urge to flee from this stranger faded.

Finally, she moved from dappled shade into sunlight and looked directly into his eyes. The friendly expression instantly turned to astonishment. “Katie?”

That stunned her. No one had called her that since college. Who was he? And what did he know about her? The mirror had become her worst enemy, but she wished for one now. She’d made very sure the glasses covered everything. Unlike Mr. Perfect, she had a lot to hide.

She studied him intently. “Do I know you?”

He mumbled something that sounded like, “Why should you? No one else does.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He smiled. “More important—I know you. You went to Saunders University. As it happens, I was lucky enough to be there at the same time.”

“Really?”

“I doubt you’d remember me.”

Surely he was wrong. There were things she didn’t want to remember, but someone so good-looking would be hard to forget.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

His gaze slid away almost shyly, but his bearing and confidence didn’t peg him as a shy man. “Nate Williams,” he finally said.

Then he tensed slightly, as if bracing for a reaction. She probably only noticed because it was a habit she’d adopted—waiting for the shock, then the discomfort when a stranger’s glance skittered away. But his name didn’t jog her memory.

She shook her head. “Did we take a class together?”

“I was two years ahead of you and in prelaw.”

“Then probably that’s not how we met. I was never that focused.” She tapped her lip as she thought back to the days that should have been carefree and were anything but. “What kind of activities were you involved in? Maybe we shared the same interest and that’s where our paths crossed.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t have a lot of interests or extra time.”

Which told her precisely nothing, and didn’t help at all in placing him. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. That was a long time ago. It’s no big deal.”

“But you remember me.”

“How could anyone forget? You were a big deal. The prettiest girl on campus. Voted most likely to wind up a cover girl. And you did. Of course I remember you.”

Oh, God. He knew she’d been a model. Did he know anything else? “I really have to go.”

“Not yet. Please?”

Good humor radiated from him and his eyes sparkled with a sincere something she hadn’t seen in a man’s expression for longer than she could remember. So long, in fact, she was surprised she’d recognized the blatant male appreciation. How was it possible to feel so warm and wary at the same time?

“Stay just a little longer. It’s not often a guy like me gets to be this close to the face that launched a thousand lipsticks. And eye shadows, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

Before she could stop him he removed her sunglasses and she gasped. There was no hiding now; he was up close and personal with her face. In front of God and everyone her scars were out there—the half circle groove over her left cheekbone, cut by her glasses in the same accident that shattered her left leg. Maybe now that he could see she was no longer the prettiest girl on campus he would move his larger than life self out of her way and let her go. She braced for his recoil of surprise followed by the poor-Kathryn-Price look.

She saw neither. His pleasant expression never changed. No, she thought, looking closer. It changed slightly with what might have been understanding flickering in his eyes. In spite of that, tension coiled in her belly. After he’d gone overboard about her model’s face, she didn’t dare hope that he would ignore the way she looked now. She wondered if he’d been living under a rock that he hadn’t heard what had happened. He’d want to know the details and offer condolences. Finally he’d insist it was hardly noticeable, which she knew was a big fat lie. She’d only lost partial vision in one eye. She wasn’t blind.

She braced herself again. Okay, she thought, let’s get it over with. Then she could make good on this disastrous escape attempt and retreat to the privacy of her room, which was where she should have stayed in the first place.

She lifted her chin, met his gaze and held out her hand, palm up. Dignity was something the accident hadn’t taken from her. “May I have my sunglasses back?” she asked, forcing a pleasant tone into her voice.

One corner of his mouth curved up. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you guys dig chicks with scars?”

Of all the things he could have said, that was the most unexpected. She blinked at him, then felt a rusty, reluctant smile curl her lips. “No, but I’ve heard chicks dig guys with scars.”

Directness was something she hadn’t prepared for; it completely disarmed her. His quirky question, not ducking the obvious put her completely at ease. And she would never have believed it possible from a guy who looked as if he could be on the cover of GQ or FITNESS FOR FANATICS. How did he know just the right thing to say?

“It’s true,” he insisted. “A tangible sign of character. Guys always look for character.”

“Oh, please. You’re telling me character is the first thing you look for in a woman and not the size of her—” She held her hands out chest high and slid him a wry look.

He grinned. “In all those articles about the top ten things that attract one person to another, isn’t sense of humor at the top of the list?”

“None of my friends store their sense of humor here, yet it’s often where male eye contact starts. And what makes a person laugh is very different from character. I should know. I’ve been on the cover of magazines where those articles appeared. It seems to me looks top the lists.”

“Then, clearly the articles are wrong.”

“I appreciate that you’re trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?” he asked, hopefully.

“It would if I had my sunglasses.”

He looked down at the glasses in his hand as if he’d forgotten he’d taken them off and still had them. He met her gaze and sighed dramatically.

“Okay, you can have them back. But only because it’s sunny and squinting will give you crow’s-feet around those beautiful eyes. Certainly not because the prettiest girl on campus has anything to hide.”

“You are so lying,” she said, shaking her head with a tentative smile.

A sudden frown chased the humor from his eyes and he looked almost nervous as he ran his fingers through his short, thick hair.

She put her hand on his arm. “You look like someone made a kite tail out of your favorite tie. That was a joke. Where’s your sense of humor?”

“Joke. Right. I knew that.”

Nate breathed a sigh of relief when she showed no signs of recognition. Although she was right about him lying—a lie of omission. But a lie by any other name was still a lie. He’d only told her his name, not who he really was. He’d never expected to see her again, not in the flesh. Pictures of her in magazines had been his only contact since college and all he could ever hope for. But a little over a year ago he’d lost track of her. Obviously something traumatic had happened to take her out of circulation.

She put her sunglasses back on. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask how it happened.”

He knew “it” was some kind of accident. “Do you want to tell me?”

“No.”

The response was succinct, decisive and unequivocal. He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “That’s good enough for me.”

If anyone could understand not wanting to discuss scars, it was Nate. And not all of them had been on his face. Severe teenage acne had left his face badly marked. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, his nose was broken in a college fight. Those were the days when everyone made fun of his “crater face.” Everyone but Katie. She’d hung out at his fraternity house with her boyfriend. The jerk never passed up an opportunity to pick on the brainer geek who desperately tried to avoid him and fade into the woodwork.

Every time Nate was the butt of another joke, Katie made it a point to find something nice to say to him, and her sweetness managed to neutralize the filth from whatever dirt was shoveled his way. He would always be grateful to her for that. He wasn’t lying about her character. To him, her heart and soul had always been even more beautiful than her face. And that was saying something because he also hadn’t been lying about her being the prettiest girl on campus. She’d always wanted to be a model. He wondered about the state of her career now.

In college, the few who were acquainted with Nate Williams knew him as Wide Load Willie or Zit-face Willie. At the time, the nicknames were humiliating and he’d never expected to be grateful for them. But he was now. Because Katie didn’t know him by his given name. When he’d finally joined a top legal defense firm and started making some money, he’d gone to a plastic surgeon who specialized in scar removal, had his nose fixed and hired a personal trainer to get him in shape. There was nothing left of Wide Load Willie and he no longer faded into the woodwork. Improved appearance had given him the confidence to take center stage in his career.

But when he’d introduced himself a few moments ago, there was no sign of recognition. Thank God. He didn’t want her to remember the flabby-freak-with-no-friends he’d been. Today, when she’d finally looked at him, she liked what she saw. Since he’d never expected to see an expression of admiration in Katie Price’s eyes, he liked that she liked him. And he didn’t care if he was acting like a hormone-riddled high schooler.

He’d come a long way since college. He was a criminal defense attorney now, and his services were available to whoever could pay his price. But he didn’t want to share that with her, either. It had given him the means to fix what was wrong with him on the outside, but lately he’d begun to wonder if the profession wasn’t creating new, worse flaws on the inside. Many of his clients had little or no decency, honesty, integrity or morality. His grandmother used to say people are a product of their environment. What did that make him?

Katie snapped her fingers. “Earth to Nate? You drifted off. Stay with me here.”

He shook his head, scattering the disturbing images—past and present. “Sorry. I have a bad habit of getting lost in my own thoughts. It’s trademark brainer geek. You may remember.”

Although he prayed she wouldn’t.

She tapped her lip. “I can’t picture you that way. In fact, I’m getting nothing from my memory banks.”

His banks were overflowing with recollections. And the woman before him still had the same thick, silky dark brown hair. She was small for a model; the top of her head came about to his shoulder. Always thin, the sleeveless blouse and ankle-length skirt she wore made her look more fragile than he remembered. And when she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, he didn’t miss the wince—or the way she pressed a hand to the small of her back as if she was uncomfortable. He frowned. She didn’t want to talk about it. But he was interested in everything about her, including what had taken the sparkle from hazel eyes he remembered flashing with energy and life.

He might be having a crisis of conscience about being a defense attorney, but he was damn good at it. And he didn’t get where he was by refusing to ask the tough questions. He would find out about her—what she had done in the last ten years, and what she was doing now. But he would sit her down for the cross-examination.

He pointed down the path. “There’s a cozy little bench just around the bend. It could take a while for us to catch up and you’d be doing an old man a favor if you’d sit down with me.”

She hesitated a moment as she studied him. Finally she nodded and a small smile turned up the corners of her full lips as she said, “Old my eye.”

He released a long breath and realized how much he hadn’t wanted her to say no.

They walked slowly along the picturesque, landscaped cobblestone path. Manicured bushes and pink, purple and yellow flowers lined the way and swayed in the afternoon breeze. Stately old trees shaded them when they were settled on the bench, and he casually rested his arm along the back, his fingers just an inch from her shoulder.

“So you’re a lawyer?” she asked, shifting slightly away from him.

The question drew his gaze to hers. Did she remember something about him? Maybe something she’d seen on the news? But her look was curious, if a little guarded.

“What makes you think that?”

“It was the prelaw information that gave me a clue.”

“Oh,” he said sheepishly. He wasn’t normally such a dimwit. The power surge from being this close to her must be frying his brain. “Right. Yes. I’m a defense attorney.”

“Must be nice to set a goal and reach it,” she said wistfully.

“I suppose.”

He’d always wanted to go into law, although he hadn’t exactly followed the path he’d intended. But it wasn’t himself he wanted to talk about. The breeze stirred the leaves overhead and he watched the dappled shadows dance over the lovely curve of her cheek and jaw. The scarred side of her face was in shadow, but it didn’t matter. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Is your husband here with you?” he asked, fishing for information and hoping it didn’t look like it. He hadn’t felt this awkward around a woman in a very long time.

“That would be tough to pull off,” she said.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m not married.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. “What about you?”

“I’m not here with anyone, either.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I’d like to think personal interest made you nosy about my marital status.”

She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told. And for the record, I’m not married.”

For just a second, she looked pleased, then her mask of cool unconcern was back. His fingers itched just to touch her, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and she was really there. But he sensed some tension in her and put his self-control firmly in place.

“So, how does it feel being back at Saunders?” he asked.

She glanced around. “The town hasn’t changed much. Unlike Los Angeles, there are no palm trees. It’s all a little run-down, just the way I remember. Although I’m sure the university Web site only highlights the green rolling hills and tree-covered campus with lots of stately buildings.”

He laughed and nodded. “You nailed it, lady.”

“How about that? Being a lawyer, you’re the one who should have a way with words.”

If she only knew, he thought. “So you’re a model.”

“Was.” Absently she traced her cheek beneath the rim of the sunglasses covering half her face.

“Did you like it?”

She linked her fingers in her lap and he could almost see her knuckles turn white. “Yes. I was lucky. A girl like me with no particular skills would have difficulty making a good living otherwise.”

“Who says you have no skills?”

“Oh, you know. Judging people on the outside. ‘If she looks like that, she can’t possibly have a single intelligent thought.’”

“That’s ridiculous. I certainly never felt that way.”

“Then you were in the minority. And it’s not an issue any longer,” she said with a huge sigh.

In his job he learned to read body language—witnesses, defendants and juries. The way her mouth pulled into a straight line told him she didn’t want to say more. And if he pushed, she was outta there. So he decided to change the subject.

“What brings you back here?”

“Do you remember Professor Gilbert Harrison?” she asked.

“Do I? He was my favorite teacher.”

She nodded. “Mine, too. He sent me a message that he’s having some sort of trouble with the college Board of Directors and needed my help.”

“I got the same message. And I’ve been nosing around.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.

He shook his head. “But where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire. And that’s what worries me. I can’t imagine the administrative body of a well-respected university going on a witch hunt without just cause.”

“But what reason could there be? He was always popular. A lot of my friends took his classes and used to hang out at his office. Do you remember how crowded it always was?”

Nate didn’t because he’d never seen the professor during his regular office hours. He’d had to hold down a job and take care of his grandmother. The professor had made time for him whenever he needed it.

“He’s a good teacher and was a generous friend to me,” he said, not quite answering her question, a defense lawyer tactic. “I’ll always be grateful to him for his help.”

Without it, he might not have made it through college—in spite of his high IQ. It was the stepping stone to law school and now he was considered one of the top defense attorneys in the country. Some of his defendants were notorious, which gave him more than his share of publicity. Katie didn’t remember him from college, and she’d given no clue she knew who he was now. But the way she’d tried to hide from him when they ran into each other was a big sign she wouldn’t relish any spotlight, even if it was collateral damage from him.

“He always did his best to help. That’s the way I remember him, too,” she said. “I wonder what’s going on.”

“Not a clue,” he admitted.

As they talked, he could see her relaxing with him and he wanted to keep it that way. His gut told him if she knew the finer points of his identity and profession, she’d run far and fast. And he very much didn’t want her to run. She’d been the single bright spot in his college experience. She’d been the reason he got out of bed every day—that and a dirt-poor kid’s obsession to get an education and make money. But now that he’d found her again, he intended to be her bright spot.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh, there’s a dangerous prospect. I thought I just saw the lights flicker with the power drain.”

“Very funny.” She was definitely relaxing. “As I said, I’ve been nosing around here at Saunders.”

“Why?”

“Just trying to gather information. Thought it might be helpful.”

“And is it?”

He shrugged. “It might be if I had any. I’m getting nowhere. Either I can’t get in to see anyone or the people I talk to claim to know nothing about anything.”

“And?”

“It’s time for me to go see Professor Harrison.”

“And?” she said again.

“I was wondering if you’d consider going with me.”

Nate held his breath while she thought over his suggestion.

“I’d like that,” she finally said.

He’d like that, too. More than she knew. More than he wanted her to know. Because he very much wanted time with her. Time to replace the shadows in her eyes with the sparkle he remembered.

But he knew that if she remembered him, time wouldn’t be his friend.