“I’m here. In southern Illinois,” she said slowly and loudly, as if she thought she was talking to a hyperactive three-year-old. “I drove here to see you. And I hit Errol Banks on Main Street in downtown Vulture’s Canyon and injured him. They had to do outpatient surgery on his knee early this morning. You’ve got to get down here right away, Rill. Errol has been cleared to go, but I have to pay for his treatment, so bring your checkbook. They won’t take a credit card from me, and apparently the one ATM in the hospital is busted. I can’t find another one in this little town. I’ve got to pay the bill before they let us go and I don’t have enough cash or a checkbook.”
Rill stood, scowling when he realized he wasn’t wearing any pants.
Jaysus. Katie Hughes. Everett’s little sister. Gorgeous, smartmouthed, vibrant Katie.
Katie in a crisis.
It was like inviting a cache of fresh dynamite into a slow
ly burning house.
Just what he needed right now.
“Okay. Okay, I’m coming,” he mumbled. He staggered into the hallway, not entirely sure if he was awake or sleeping. The nailing pain in his right brow seemed too real to be a dream, however. “But, Katie?”
“Yeah?” He heard the tremble in her voice and pulled up short in the middle of the hallway.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why the hell else would I be in this godforsaken place, Rill Pierce? I came to save you.”
There was a short pause. He heard her sigh and suddenly saw her clear as day in his mind’s eye, the vivid green eyes, the wild tumble of golden ringlets and waves. He’d directed Katie’s brother, Everett Hughes, in six of his films. It’d always fascinated him how Everett and Katie shared a face, and yet the impressions of the two were polar opposites. Everett epitomized male good looks, while similar features on Katie comprised the essence of vibrant feminine beauty.
In Everett, Rill had found that rare combination in an actor; he was respected by other men and adored by women.
A sickly worm of suspicion wriggled around in Rill’s gut when he considered Everett. He quickly tried to dismiss the sensation.
Of course Eden had never lusted after Everett Hughes. Everett was his best friend, for fuck’s sake. Or had been, before Rill took a sabbatical in these woods, a sabbatical that may end up lasting for the rest of his life.
His head swam. Nausea swept through him.
He needed to focus on the moment. Katie Hughes was on the phone, and she needed help. That was all there was to consider.
He struggled to bring Katie’s image back into his mind’s eye.
Katie and Everett may have represented polar opposites on the spectrum of male and female beauty, but Katie’s delicate features were often cast in an expression of pure stubbornness, just like Everett’s. Katie didn’t sound too sassy through his phone receiver, though. No, she sounded beat.
He resisted an urge to blurt out that she was a little fool. No one in her right mind would choose to be in his company. But now wasn’t the time to chastise her for barging in on his misery. Whether he wanted her there or not, he would never leave Katie hanging in a pinch.
“Are you okay, Katie?”
“I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”
“All right. Give me forty minutes.”
“Thanks, Rill,” she said before the line went dead.
Rill stood there in the bathroom staring at his cell phone for several seconds. A shiver of unease had coursed down his spine when he’d heard his name on Katie’s tongue.
“What in the hell did you do to your hair?” Rill accused by way of greeting.
Katie spun around from where she’d been reading about the rules of sanitary hand-washing on the hospital waiting room bulletin board. She stared at Rill for two heartbeats . . . three.
His hair looked strange and yet right at once. Several years back he’d shocked them all—his wife, Eden, most notably—by shaving his head. But Rill had just laughed at their surprise. What was hair to a man like Rill Pierce? Better off without the crap. Pain in my ass, Katie recalled him saying with a wicked grin.
He had a mess of dark hair, but the strands were finer than she’d remembered. It’d felt dense yet silky when she ran her fingers through it last night. That thick crop of lustrous hair contrasted markedly with his bold male features and insouciance in regard to his appearance.
No wonder he’d shaved it off. He probably resented any suggestion from the magazines and tabloids that he even remotely resembled a Hollywood pretty boy.