A Man With Doubts

By Linda Wisdom

In from the cold...

Tracey White had once been an actress, but in Scott Kingsly, her new employer, she found the first man ever to kindle in her the fires she had always pretended to feel. Slowly they learned to trust, to share a passion and an intimacy she had dreamed of but never found, creating between them a blaze strong enough to melt the Colorado snows and keep out the winter's chill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Wisdom
• Release date: May 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310740183

Linda Wisdom

Linda Wisdom has published more than 70 novels with 13 million copies sold worldwide including traditional, paranormal, humor, action/adventure romance, and romantic suspense. Her bestselling books have been nominated for Romantic Times awards and the Romance Writers of America Rita Award. She lives with her husband in Murrieta, California.

Book preview

A Man With Doubts

By

Linda Wisdom

A Joyride Books Classic Linda Wisdom Romance

Smashwords Edition

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Joyride Books

A Man With Doubts

Copyright © 2014 by Linda Wisdom

Joyride Books License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

* * *

Chapter One

Okay, Tracey, another one of your famous smiles. The photographers' flashbulbs popped incessantly at their subject. Now, another one. That's it, doll. Great."

A slender young woman dressed in a figure-hugging teal-blue silk wrap dress obliged with a bright and warm smile at the cameras. Red-gold hair in curls carefully arranged to look tousled framed porcelain skin that never darkened to more than a pale gold. Bright blue eyes with a hint of green in their depths sparkled brightly.

All right, Tracey, give us your real reason for leaving our fair city. A reporter held a microphone in front of the woman's face. Is it because the producers of Hawke's House had Erica Jamison killed by her lover's wife? He grinned engagingly. With your looks and figure you could easily find another part. I sure wouldn't turn you down!

The woman's delicately shaped mouth, its slightly fuller lower lip betraying a deeply sensual nature, curved into an amused smile. Erica lasted four years, which was longer than many people expected, considering all of the mischief she managed to get into during that time. Her low voice had a slightly husky quality. And now it's time for this 'other woman' to find something new to do with her life.

Yes, but how will you find something new way out in Colorado? one woman spoke up. If not here in New York, why not on the West Coast? Say a film contract in Hollywood. You're too talented an actress to suddenly halt your career at this stage. It doesn't make any sense. Come on, Tracey, what's your real reason for leaving?

People have been watching me on Thursday night television for the past four years and it's been difficult for me to go anywhere without being recognized, so why shouldn't I just go back home and live die simple life? Tracey said lightly.

Is there a man waiting for you back in Colorado? one reporter piped up.

Who knows, maybe several. Tracey's smile was infectious and sensual at the same time. Why should I limit myself to just one man at this stage in my life?

There was another half hour of trying to satisfy the media's probing questions before a balding man in his late fifties finally herded them out of the ornate hotel suite. He returned, mopping his brow with his handkerchief.

They weren't too happy with your answers, Tracey, he told the young woman. For you to just want to go back home and enjoy a quiet retirement isn't what they wanted to hear. They're going to continue looking for more. And the more sensational the better.

Tracey sat back in a pale blue velvet chair, the smile gone now, and her face revealing the strain she had been under for the past few hours. I'm tired of producing juicy gossip, Max, she said bleakly as she crossed her slender legs. Of course, I could have told them the truth, but it still wouldn't be what they would want to hear. I don't intend telling the world that I'm tired of portraying a cold and callous woman who lives for each new affair to liven up her life. I'm not that way, and people don't want to believe that. Not to mention the fact that I'm now flat broke.

How that man ever thought he could get away with it, I don't know, Max said grimly.

It seems he did quite well, Tracey said drily. I'm lucky that he left me with anything at all.

Don't worry, he'll be found and brought to justice, he predicted, adding, I still think you should stay here, at least for a little while. The right part will come along if you'll just be patient and not worry.

I'm tired, Max. Tracey rose gracefully to her feet, stretching her weary body. After a long day of interviews and picture taking, she was ready for a bath and bed. I want to go back home and just be plain old Tracey White again.

You can never go back, he told her. Your name has been public property for far too long.

Tracey smiled warmly at her agent as she turned toward the doorway leading to the bedroom. Hannah. She raised her voice slightly. Would you please call downstairs and have someone come up to clean this mess? And I would also appreciate having a dinner tray sent up as soon as possible. You know what I like.

The woman who appeared in the doorway was in her fifties, dressed in a simple dark-colored dress. It's already been done. She smiled. A maid and your tray will be up presently. She turned, fixing a disapproving eye on Max. I think you need your rest, Tracey. Her words were clearly meant for the older man.

I get the hint. He felt no anger toward the housekeeper, whose only concern was for her charge.

Tracey walked over to Max and dropped a light kiss on his cheek. What would I have done without you? There was genuine affection in her voice. You haven't only been my agent, but my very dear friend as well, and I wouldn't have made it without you there to guide me, she said softly and sincerely. I'll miss you very much, Max.

If I were twenty years younger and wasn't a happily married man, you wouldn't be getting rid of me so easily, he countered jovially, then sobered. I'll be here at eleven tomorrow morning to drive you to the airport.

I'll be ready, she promised with a smile.

And no sleeping late. Max waved a warning finger at her as he walked out the door.

Tracey looked around the cluttered room at the filled ashtrays and empty glasses with a grimace of distaste as she crossed toward the bedroom. I'm so tired, Hannah, she admitted as she slipped off her dress and replaced it with a long robe.

No wonder, what with trying to act sociable to all of those television and newspaper reporters, the older woman replied. There's a hot bath waiting for you; that should take some of the aches out.

Nodding, Tracey went into the bathroom. After carefully removing her makeup, she brushed her hair, pinning it on top of her head in a loose knot. A few moments later, she stepped into the hot water, sighing in relief as her tense muscles began to relax. Lying in the hot scented water, Tracey's mind wandered back over the past five years and the events that had brought her to New York in the first place.

Her mother had died when Tracey was in grade school, and her father had suffered a fatal heart attack not long after her nineteenth birthday. If she hadn't had Hannah to lean on during that traumatic time after her father's death, she didn't know what she would have done. Hannah was more a family member than a servant, since she had been housekeeper for the White household since Tracey had been a baby. When

Tracey's mother had died, it was Hannah who became the much-needed mother figure in the little girl's life. For Hannah, looking after Tracey was an act of love, not a job. With this new upheaval in her life, Tracey was left to make a decision between selling the family home, so she could use the money to continue her education, or keeping the house and finding a job.

Knowing she could never give up the house, Tracey had decided to close it up for a time and accept a Mend's invitation to move to New York. Leaving Hannah in charge of the house, Tracey had left as soon as possible. In New York, she found a job as a file clerk in the offices of a well-known talent agency. From there, her life had seemed like something that only happened in books or in the movies.

Tracey's roommate, an aspiring actress, persuaded her to attend an audition for a small part in a popular nighttime dramatic series that revolved around several fictional wealthy families in upper New York State. For a laugh, Tracey agreed to go. After all, what harm could it do?

But the laugh turned out to be on Tracey when she was chosen to play the part of Erica Jamison, a woman totally without morals, in the weekly television melodrama, Hawke's House. Max's name was given to her by another friend and from there on Tracey's life became a merry-go-round. Her days were filled with memorizing her lines, for which the photographic memory that had gotten her through several tight spots in school came in handy, rehearsals, and filming. Max also enrolled Tracey in acting and speech classes so that she could learn the basics of drama.

Tracey enjoyed playing Erica in the beginning, because the cold and callous woman was the exact opposite of her own warmhearted nature. With Erica, she could act vindictive and wanton the way she never could in real life. She was surprised when her character in the show became one of the most popular, and her part soon expanded until she was one of the major stars.

But Tracey hadn't counted on the publicity that followed her every move. Every man she dated was assumed to be a new lover, and a married man couldn't be her casual friend without starting a rumor that Tracey was breaking up another marriage in the tradition of Erica Jamison. She soon hated to see her picture on the front of magazines, the headlines listing marriages she had reputedly broken up or the names of men she had thrown over for someone else. She finally burrowed into a hole of her own making, preferring to keep to herself, even though her wish for peace and quiet only brought more questions as to what unsavory activities she was hiding. Tracey soon learned to keep a falsely bright smile pasted on her face so no one could see the haunting sadness in the bright depths of her eyes. She was glad it was all over now so she could begin to live a life away from photographers and newspaper reporters.

Tracey had been in New York for a little over two years when Hannah showed up insisting that Tracey needed someone to look after her. Tracey had never been so glad to see anyone as she was to see the brusque housekeeper. With Hannah as her watchdog, Tracey's private life was able to become a little more normal.

Sighing, Tracey recalled the episode in her lawyer's office a few weeks before, and the main reason behind her decision to leave New York, a reason she felt it best to keep from the news media. With a faint bitterness, she wondered if they would have believed it anyway.

It appears that your accountant was adept only at funneling funds into his own pocket, Miss White, Mr. Greer told her in a hesitant voice. And now Mr. Lock is nowhere to be found. A thorough audit has been done on your books, and it appears that he has left you virtually without assets.

You mean I'm broke? It was impossible for her to take in this horrible information. But how? Jerry handled all of my bills, all my expenses. I never seemed to lack for money and my accounts were always paid on time. How could something like this happen without my knowledge?

Mr. Lock was very clever and took great care to keep all of your expenses up to date so there would be no suspicion on your part. It was the balance of your funds that he pocketed for his own use, the lawyer said gently. Of course, we are working on trying to find the man, and he will be fully prosecuted when found. You can be assured of that. He went on speaking in complex legal terms that went over Tracey's head. All that had gotten through to her was that the money she had thought was being put away toward the day when she would leave New York to return home was now gone.

Then the final blow came. A week later, the producer announced the plan to have Erica shot and killed by her present lover's wife, followed by the woman's trial for Erica's death. Max soon had offers for Tracey to work in other shows or in movies, of course, but only in the same type of role she had been playing.

Typecast already, she said angrily, throwing a script on Max's desk. Is this all I'm going to be offered from now on? The part of someone who hops, into bed with any man who asks her? Someone who enjoys breaking up marriages just to prove her own power over men? I don't want that, Max.

Max felt sympathy for the young woman whose career he had guided so carefully for the past few years. No longer a gauche, shy girl, Tracey's glossy veneer was now very much a part of her. The red-gold hair was expertly cut and styled, her makeup kept to a flattering minimum, her clothes costly, not just off a store rack. She was every bit the young sophisticate.

It's just going to take some patience and hard work, Tracey, he informed her. To the public, you're Erica Jamison. What we have to do is create a new image for you.

That could be a little difficult to do as long as there are little tidbits like this running around. She was fighting angry tears when she threw the morning paper on Max's desk. Or didn't you read Olivia Crandall's column? ‘What will Tracey White's next move be after the untimely death of Erica Jamison in Hawke's House? Rumor has it that her long affair with producer Ben Jackson has fizzled out along with Tracey's seductive character. The question is, will the rejected mistress find someone new to further her career or will she attempt to make it on her own?' Tracey quoted from the paper with a bitter twist to her lips. I went to a dinner party with the man—once—and it seems we've been having a long-standing affair. I'm tired, Max. I'm tired of the long hours, the pushy people, of having to meet men who never learned to keep their hands to themselves and I'm just tired of my whole way of life.

What will you do? Max asked softly, fully aware of the emotional anguish Tracey went through each time she read something like this. What wouldn't he give to see Olivia Crandall thrown out on her ear, except that famous gossip columnists never seemed to worry about their own reputations.

Tracey managed a faint smile. Right now, I'm not sure, but I do know I'll come up with something. I'm sorry to unload all of this on you. You're such a sweetheart to listen to me rant and rave.

That's what agents are for. Max waved his hand airily. Now, why don't you go out and buy yourself a new dress or have your hair done; do something to make yourself feel good. You certainly deserve it.

In my present financial circumstances, I think I'll just go home. She rose gracefully to her feet. I'll call you the moment I decide what I intend to do next.

The best thing for you is to get back to work. Let me scout around some more and see what I can come up with, he advised.

Several days later, Tracey had come to the conclusion that most appealed to her. She would return to Boulder and reopen her family home. With careful management, she could live comfortably for a few months or, at least, until she could find a job. With her usual optimism, Tracey felt she would be able to find some sort of work and return to a quiet life. After living a fishbowl existence for so long, the prospect was very appealing. Tracey was more than ready to go home and pick up die threads of her old life again.

Your dinner's here. Hannah knocked on the bathroom door.

I'll be right out. Tracey roused herself from her daydreaming.

Hastily drying herself off, she donned her robe and left the bathroom. Dinner for two had been set on a nearby table next to the window overlooking the bright city lights.

You needn't stay up here with me, Hannah, Tracey protested, indicating the second place setting. I should think you'd want to go around and see your friends before we leave.

All of my good-byes are said, Hannah replied. And I don't intend to let you eat alone. You tend to pick at your food.

Tracey couldn't help smiling at the older woman's words. Hannah couldn't stop playing mother any more than she could stop breathing.

The following day proved even more hectic than Tracey had anticipated.

You just remember, if you want to come back just give me a call and I'll have auditions set up for you before your plane has a chance to land at Kennedy, Max told her, giving her a bear hug before her flight was called. And if anything comes up that I think is right for you, I'll call.

Tracey's flight was delayed and by the time she and Hannah arrived in Denver, she felt ready to drop from fatigue. Her easily recognizable red-gold curls were restrained in a smooth chignon at the nape of her neck and lightly tinted glasses masked her brilliantly colored eyes, but those precautions soon proved to be ineffective when a man in his late twenties stopped her in the airport terminal, flashing a newspaper identification card at her.

How about letting me in on the real reason for your return to Colorado, Miss White? His eyes skimmed appreciatively over her slender figure, covered today in lightweight wool pants and a matching silk shirt of dark apricot. This is your hometown. Shouldn't we have a chance to know what's going on? Are you going to be doing a picture here?

I'm yesterday's news, Tracey informed him with a polite but cool smile. I'm taking an early retirement and intend to live a quiet life.

No way, sweetheart. He grinned brashly. You're Erica Jamison; you gave a new meaning to the word 'lust.' And no one's going to let you forget it.

They will when they realize that I have no wish to return to television, she said coldly, walking swiftly away, her body stiff with anger. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

Hey, wait a minute! he called after her. What about my interview?

Tracey didn't bother to turn around as she said frostily, As far as I'm concerned, there never was one. Good day.

By mutual agreement, Tracey and Hannah spent the night in a motel, feeling that it would be better to move into the house during the daylight hours. Tracey was so tired from all the events of the previous weeks that she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

The next morning, Tracey and Hannah stowed their luggage in the trunk of a rental car and prepared for the drive to Boulder. Although the city had grown quite a bit during her absence, Tracey still found many familiar landmarks. She drove slowly down a tree-lined street that ended in a cul-de-sac until she reached the end house. Pulling into the driveway, she stopped the car and sat there for a long moment before slowly getting out. So many memories stood before her.

The covered porch, with its old-fashioned wooden swing where she sat with her boyfriends, who would steal quick kisses. The ivy that climbed the trellis to the roof and the maple tree in the front yard that she used to climb when she was a ten-year-old tomboy.

Tracey had arranged for a gardening service to take care of the lawn on a regular basis and had the house repainted the year before. It looked now just the way she remembered it from five years before, just a white frame house with dark blue shutters and trim. She walked back to unlock the trunk.

I have an idea that the house is going to be pretty dusty, Tracey commented, lifting the suitcases out and setting them on the ground.

It's going to need a good airing out, too, Hannah told her. "All the utilities should have been turned on by now. Sally Thomas next door said she'd take care of that for us, and she used her key to come in and clean