Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(27)

He looked at Amalie, touched his black cap with two fingers to acknowledge her presence, and proceeded to open the rear door of the large vehicle.

The chauffeur was unusual enough to draw a second glance, but the tall, lean man with the aristocratic profile who emerged from the limo had the power to make anyone who went to the movies stop in her tracks. Vincent Hyde’s mane of jet-black hair was swept straight back from a sharp widow’s peak. It gleamed with a judicious application of oil. His lean, ascetic face, thick dark brows, and riveting eyes were even more mesmerizing in person than they were on the silver screen.

He wore an impeccably tailored navy blue blazer, a crisp white shirt, and white trousers. The ensemble was accented with a blue silk scarf at the throat rather than a more traditional tie. His gold watch flashed in the sun. He was at once darkly ominous and exotically sensual. It was easy to imagine him in the dashing black cape that he always wore in his role as the title character in the long-running Mad Doctor X series of films.

Amalie could hardly believe her eyes. Vincent Hyde, the legendary star of a string of horror movies, was about to walk through the front door of the Hidden Beach Inn. She couldn’t wait to tell Hazel. Hollywood had come calling.

She grabbed the sack of groceries she had just purchased, leaped out of the Hudson, and hurried toward the entrance of the inn.

“Welcome to the Hidden Beach, Mr. Hyde,” she said. “I’m Amalie Vaughn, the proprietor.”

“Ah, you recognize me.” Vincent swept her a courtly bow. “I am honored. I am also delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Vaughn.”

Amalie couldn’t place the accent—it sounded vaguely European to her, but she was no expert. Vincent Hyde talked the way the classy characters did in the movies.

“I think I’ve seen almost every movie that you’ve made,” Amalie said. “Mad Doctor X and the Castle of Shadows was thrilling.”

“Thank you.” Vincent smiled a cool, slightly bored smile. “I do apologize for landing on your doorstep with no reservation, but this morning at breakfast, as I was reading the paper, I was seized with the inspiration to come to Burning Cove today.”

“Really?”

“I do hope that you will be able to accommodate me.”

“I’m sure we can find a room for you, Mr. Hyde. I have a lovely corner suite with an excellent view of the ocean.”

“I will also need a room for Jasper here.” Vincent did not bother to glance at the chauffeur. “Nothing special, but I do require that he be conveniently located. I never know when I will need him, you see. In addition to his chauffeur duties, he serves as my bodyguard. Some fans can be, shall we say, overenthusiastic.”

“I understand.”

She smiled at Jasper, who stood stiffly near the gleaming fender of the limo.

He seemed startled by her welcoming smile. His expression tightened briefly in confusion, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Would the room directly across the hall from Mr. Hyde’s suite do for you?” she asked.

Jasper appeared dumbfounded at having been personally addressed.

“Uh,” he said.

He closed his mouth and cast his boss an uneasy look, waiting for orders.

“The room across the hall sounds ideal, Miss Vaughn,” Vincent said. “You mustn’t be afraid of Jasper. I do realize that he bears a striking resemblance to Karloff’s extremely clumsy version of Frankenstein’s lumbering creature. But that’s why I hired him, you see. I assure you my pet monster is under my complete control at all times.”

Appalled, Amalie looked at Jasper. She thought his jaw clenched, but aside from that almost invisible action he remained impassive. She shifted the grocery sack to one arm and held out her hand.

“I didn’t catch your last name,” she said.

Jasper stared at her hand.

“Calloway, ma’am,” he said. “Jasper Calloway.”

His voice was a rough rasp. There was a faint indication of a western drawl. She guessed that he had probably grown up on a farm or a ranch in Arizona or California.

“Welcome to the Hidden Beach Inn, Mr. Calloway,” she said.

Gingerly he closed his big hand around her fingers. He shook hands with exquisite care, as if he was afraid he might hurt her.

“Ma’am,” he said. He retrieved his hand and plucked the grocery sack from her arm. “Let me take care of that for you.”

“Thanks,” Amalie said. “I appreciate it.” Briskly she turned back to Vincent, who had watched the small scene with an impatient air. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Hyde, I’ll get you registered and show you to your suite.”

Vincent once again slipped into his invisible cloak of polished, practiced charm.

“Thank you, Miss Vaughn. I must admit I’m looking forward to experiencing the atmosphere of your establishment.”

Amalie had just gotten her key into the lock on the door. She paused. “You want to experience the atmosphere of my inn?”

“I will be frank, Miss Vaughn. I came here for artistic inspiration.”

“I see.” She opened the door and moved into the tiled foyer. “You came for the fresh seaside air and our tranquil gardens. I think you will find the atmosphere here at the Hidden Beach very conducive to relaxation. I can only imagine the pressures and demands of a highly successful film career such as yours.”