The dim and polished hotel bar and restaurant with its dark, gleaming wood tables and tall booths with leather upholstery are surprisingly crowded for three p.m. on a Friday, with more seats occupied than not. Whether they’re enjoying a late lunch or just seated at the bar for a drink, though, the patrons’ chatter is barely more than a hum above the subdued music that fills the room, and the TVs mounted between all the shiny bottles of booze are silently tuned to various sports games.

An upscale hotel in downtown San Diego, the Claremont is a busy public place but relatively quiet. In other words, the perfect location for meeting a stranger.

Such as the little sister you never knew you had.

I inform the young blonde hostess at the entrance I’m there to join someone. She asks for that person’s name, and when I tell her, she smiles and points toward the booth in the far-right corner.

From here, all I can see is a dark-haired woman in a black top with something colorful wrapped around her neck. As I draw nearer, it becomes clear that it’s a scarf, draped haphazardly.

She’s bent over her phone, tapping away with both thumbs, probably typing two or three times as many words per minute as I ever could. Because she’s a full decade younger than me and would’ve still been a teenager when texting became a thing, so she would’ve grown up with it, would’ve learned to do it with impressive efficiency.

Which begs the question: what am I doing here? Is it even possible that I’ll find any common ground with this woman?

Something—my shadow, a premonition?—alerts her to my presence, and her head whips up.

And my steps slow involuntarily, my feet growing leaden. Holy shit. Those big, almost round eyes. The pointed chin. That pale, porcelain skin. Sharp cheekbones, tiny nose, full lips.

She’s a darker-haired, more exotic version of my mom. My beautiful and pixie-like mother, who my dad told me often got compared to Audrey Hepburn, except for her golden hair, the same color as mine. This woman, though. Her hair is such a deep, dark brown it’s almost black, giving her a startling resemblance to the late actress.

My little sister. One simple glance at us side by side, and anyone would know it. I had no idea she would look so much like me, was definitely not prepared for this. Yeah, over the past few months, I’ve searched for her on social media out of curiosity, and I’m pretty sure I found her on several sites, but unlike so many people her age, she doesn’t seem to be into posting selfies.

“Cara?” I ask as she slides out of the booth and gets to her feet. “Sorry, is it Care-ah or Cah-rah?”

“It’s Care-ah,” she replies automatically. For the space of several breaths, she just stares at me. Then she exhales audibly. “Oh, my God, you look even more like her in person.”

My heart does a flip, and I give her a tiny smile. “So do you.”

She swallows visibly, and then I’m surprised to see her eyes welling up, glistening with tears that soon overflow and start rolling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she says, swiping at them, leaving her makeup slightly smudged. “I’ve been telling myself over and over again: not gonna cry, not gonna cry, not gonna cry. Obviously that didn’t work.” Sniffling, she releases a quick, self-deprecating laugh. “And now I’ve already made this awkward. I’m sorry.”

My smile widens. “No, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it. How about we sit down, though?”

With a nod, she steps back to the table and scoots in on the bench seat. Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I slide in across from her, and as I do, I catch her eyeing my appearance. Should I have gone upstairs to my room to change before coming here? This two-day trip back to San Diego is mainly for work, and I know this getup can be intimidating—that’s the whole point. The last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable, though. We’re getting enough of that from the situation itself.

Once we’re settled in, we sit there for a while, just staring. At last, I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.

“God, I’ve been in shock since you emailed,” she confesses. “And so nervous since we agreed to meet. I had no idea you even existed.”

“I didn’t know you did, either, until about five months ago. I didn’t even know she was—” I cut myself short, stumbling over the word. Dead has such a stark, unforgiving ring to it. Weakly, I finish the sentence with, “…gone.”

My sister—my sister!—creases her forehead. “Five months?”

“Yeah.” I puff out a sigh, my lips twisting. “You’re wondering why it took me so long to get in touch.”

“Well…yeah?” Watching me in puzzlement, she quickly straightens and heaves a shrug. “That’s probably just me, though. I would’ve tracked you down ten minutes after I found out.”

I’m unsure of how to explain myself, and I get a reprieve in the form of a black-clad server showing up to take our orders. I tell him I’d like iced tea, and Cara offers the guy a friendly smile as she asks for coffee. With a questioning look at me, she pushes the menus toward him, saying he can probably just take them, and I don’t argue. I’m not here to eat.

As soon as he disappears, I draw in a fortifying breath and start talking. “When my dad told me about you, I had a lot of other stuff going on. My wife and I got back together after being separated for a year. I quit my job. We moved to the Bay Area. Between getting settled in our new house, the kids getting used to new schools, and Paige—my wife—and I starting up our own law firm together, things have been pretty crazy.”

She nods, understanding.

“But most of all,” I go on before she can reply, “I guess I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. For twenty-eight years I had no idea where my mom went or what had happened to her. Then I found out I missed my chance to ever see her again—and that I have a sister. It was a lot to take in.”

“Yeah. I get it.” Resting her elbows on the table, she leans forward a tad. “You know, before I even answered that first email you sent me, I called my dad. We’ve never had the best relationship, and since Mom passed away…” She trails off, frowning briefly. “I just couldn’t believe they never told me. I felt like my whole life had been a lie, you know? They wore wedding rings, for God’s sake. I had no idea they weren’t actually married. No one did. I guess I don’t understand why she didn’t just get a divorce?”

My gut tightens. How much does she know about what happened between my parents? Obviously, anything she does would’ve come from her dad.

Roland Disalvo.

The dentist.

Does she look like him at all? If she does, it seems to be mostly her coloring. She probably got that vaguely Mediterranean look from him.

I decide on discretion for now. “I’m guessing she didn’t want us to know where she was. Did your dad not explain any of it to you?”

“We didn’t get that far,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I was so mad, and he didn’t apologize for lying. He just kept telling me I shouldn’t meet you, because I don’t know you, and it might be dangerous, and blah, blah, but I’m pretty sure he was just being jealous. He’s always been kind of a bully. So strict and controlling. I bet he forced Mom to never contact you again.”

Well. Now would be a good time to tell her about my dad’s actions, suggesting Rose might’ve been too scared to return. I just can’t get the words out, though. It’s too soon, probably, for that kind of brutal confession.

The words just keep pouring out of her, though, don’t they? I settle back in my seat, trying to decide if the ease I’m feeling with her already is real or just my brain being desperate for a familial connection.

“So anyway,” she finishes, “we had a big fight on the phone, and I haven’t talked to him since.”

I grimace slightly. “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t consider what this would do to your relationship with him.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies, shaking her head. “There wasn’t that much to ruin, to be honest.”

Our server shows up with our drinks, setting them down in front of us and asking if he can get us anything else. When we both say no, he walks off again.

My sister—seriously, it’s still too strange to think of her as that—grabs a sugar packet, tears it open, and dumps it into her coffee. Stirring with her spoon, she meets my gaze and says, “You probably want me to tell you about her, huh?”

Her. We still haven’t identified her beyond that nondescript word. Guess we don’t need to.

“Yeah,” I answer plainly. “If you don’t mind.”

So then Cara starts painting a picture with words, telling me about the life my mother left us for. I’d already figured that shacking up with a dentist, she’d be much more comfortable financially than with a police officer, and my sister’s descriptions confirm it. Rose traded a small, regular old house in a truly middle-class neighborhood for a small mansion in a ritzy gated community, where she spent most of her time making herself and her home look beautiful.

And I’m sure her new man never suggested that she go out and get a job. From what Cara is saying, he probably wouldn’t even have allowed her to.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” my female doppelgänger says at length. “I never felt close to her. She was so involved in every part of my life, did everything a mom is supposed to do, but I guess now I realize she made me feel like I was just another thing that let her pretend she had a perfect life? Like, she felt the same way about dressing me up in cute clothes as she did about decorating her living room.”

Something in my face makes her widen her eyes at me and ask, “What?”

I exhale with a half chuckle of exasperation. “I’ve spent so much time being heartbroken about losing her, and you’re confirming what I’ve been suspecting, that I’ve been better off without her. Is that horrible?”

Giving me a wry smile, she shakes her head. After taking a sip of her coffee, she says, “You have a good relationship with your dad?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how it could be any better. He became a better parent after she left. A better person, too, probably.”

And I have no qualms about my attachment to him being stronger than ever, even after finding out the truth about why my mom left. Yeah, he kept it from me for too long, but he admitted his mistakes, apologized, and obviously regrets it enough for the both of us. After three decades of him being a fundamental pillar of my existence, it’d take a hell of a lot more than that to destroy—or even damage—our relationship.

Thankfully, he chose to move up north with us. He’s still doing some investigative work, but he’s mostly retired now and seems to be happy with it. He’s spending more time with his grandkids, and he got another dog and has been enjoying exploring the hiking trails and campgrounds near his new home.

I keep hoping he’ll lift his self-inflicted celibacy and find himself a girlfriend, but that seems to be a lost cause. It’s depressing to think of how long he’s been without that kind of companionship and how much longer he’ll most likely continue to be alone. But it’s really not my business, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“And you have a family of your own,” Cara comments, and her expression turns sheepish as she explains, “I Googled you after you emailed. It’s pretty easy to find stuff online about you. You’re a famous big-shot lawyer.”

I shake my head in denial, laughter bursting from my chest, and her eyes sparkle in response.

“I told my friends everything I could find out about you,” she goes on. “He has kids! I’m an aunt! I love kids. You’re going to let me meet them, right? And your wife?”

I nod emphatically. “They can’t wait to meet you, actually. Paige is here in town with me. It’s a business trip.” And I kept asking her if she was sure she didn’t want to be here with me today, because she’s almost beside herself with curiosity about my mysterious sister, but she was adamant that the first meeting should be just the two of us.

I’m expecting Cara to ask why Paige isn’t here, but instead she just inquires, “How long are you staying?”

“We fly back tomorrow evening.” I take a drink from my iced tea to hide my hesitation before I jump right in and say, “So if you’re free, we could do something tomorrow, and you can meet her.”

My sister’s pretty face lights up. “Yeah, that’s perfect. I don’t have any plans. Do you have any photos of your kids with you?”

I can’t help letting out another chuckle, because in this day and age, what parent doesn’t? Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I bring up my photos and scroll until I find a good one. It’s a family photo of all five of us in front of the Golden Gate Bridge that my dad took one Sunday afternoon not long after we moved. Paige wanted a picture for the cards she was mailing out to announce our address change. Because that’s how she rolls. My wife, the valedictorian of moving house.

“Oh, my God,” Cara coos as she accepts the phone from me. “They’re so cute. And your wife is gorgeous.” With another self-deprecating quirk of her lips, she says, “I knew that already, from the pictures on your law firm website. When I Googled you.”

More laughing and smiling. It hits me that I really and truly like her, and regret twists in my chest. I might not’ve missed out on much by losing my mom, but it would’ve been nice to grow up with a little sister like this one. She’s like a ray of sunshine. It’s making me happy just to look at her and know she exists.

“Tell me about yourself,” I say as she hands me back my phone. “What do you do?”

“Ugh. I was so worried you’d ask me that.” Her face scrunches up. “It’s a long story. I’m actually just working as a barista in a coffee shop right now. I haven’t really figured out what to do when I grow up yet. Pretty pathetic for someone my age, right?”

Well, she’s only twenty-six. She’s talking like she’s ancient. “You’ve got plenty of time,” I say, and then I turn my voice casual, like I’m pretending I’m not being nosy as I ask, “Are you in a relationship or anything?”

“Nope. Single right now,” she answers with a shrug in her tone, and she definitely doesn’t look thrilled about it, but then she seems to perk up as she switches topic. “I might actually move soon. My friends and I have been talking about getting a place together in Venice Beach. There’s this amazing house for rent right by the beach. There’d be five of us, so I guess it’d be kind of like living in a commune. We might have to start wearing tie-dye and smoke weed and have weird orgies and stuff.” She winces. “Sorry. Was that TMI?”

I can’t help but snicker, even though, yeah, I’m definitely not comfortable enough to discuss sex with her.

She taps her phone screen, looking at the time. “Oh, crap, I actually have to go. I’m working tonight.” Picking up her phone, she stuffs it into her purse. “I’ll text you in the morning and we can figure out where to meet then?”

“Sounds good.” When she opens her wallet and starts pulling out bills, obviously to pay her part of the tab, I shake my head and firmly tell her I’ve got it. She tries to argue, but I remain adamant, and she finally gives in, thanking me.

I slide out of the booth as she does. Not sure about the appropriate way to say goodbye to a sister I still barely know, I put my hand out, feeling ill at ease as I say, “It was really nice to meet you.”

She eyes my hand, then looks up and meets my gaze, her expression open and soft with emotion. “Can I give you a hug? Is it too soon? I still can’t believe I have a big brother. I just want to give you a hug.”

Something within me crumbles. I open my arms, and she steps into them, wrapping hers around me. She feels small in my embrace, small but also solid, like a tiny, thin-boned tank. She’s real. She’s in my life now. I’m gonna keep her there, be there for her, make sure she’s okay, and do anything I can to protect her and help her be happy.

My little sister. I’m smiling again as I squeeze her, probably harder than she bargained for. Though her arms around my waist are also tight.

She pulls back and says goodbye with a wave of her hand. Once she’s gone, I remember I need to wait for the bill. I sit back down on her side of the booth so that I have a view of the room and can gesture at the server next time he comes by.

Pulling out my phone, intending to check for messages, my attention catches on a blonde head at the other side of the bar. A jolt goes through me.

Paige?

Yeah, it’s her. She meets my gaze from all the way across the room, and a dimple appears next to her lush lips as she raises her drink in greeting.

How long has she been sitting there? Her meeting with Caroline Carne must not have run as long as she thought it would.

I narrow my gaze at her, and then we just sit there, fifty or so feet apart, smiling at each other. So wrapped up am I in this silent flirtation that I don’t even notice the server reappearing until he’s right next to me, asking if I need anything else. When I say no, he whips the bill in its small leather folder out from his apron. I tell him I’m charging to my room, and after writing down the room number and signing, I hand it back to him.

As soon as he’s gone, I see my wife toss down the rest of her drink before sliding off her barstool. Picking up her small purse and throwing a final, provocative look my way, she turns and starts weaving her way toward the exit. She’s wearing her clingy, white sheath dress with the V-cut neckline, showing off every sexy, curvy inch of her.

Immediately, I get up and follow her, a thrill shooting through me.

She’s obviously in a playful mood.

This should be fun.

* * *

Paige

There’s an open elevator up ahead with a couple of people stepping inside. But I can sense Logan not far behind me, and I want him all to myself right now, with no strangers’ eyes and ears to stop me from doing what I want.

So I slow my pace until the door slides shut, ambling across the hotel lobby, and then pressing the button as soon as I reach the elevators. The other one immediately opens with a ding, and without looking back, I stride inside and go to the far corner.

He enters only a second or two later. Looking at the button pads and finding all the numbers unlit, he presses the one for the twelfth floor, where the suite he surprised me with is located. Tax write-off, he said. A wasteful splurge, I argued, though I smiled.

His index finger taps on the button that closes the elevator door, leaving us alone as the contraption jerks into upward motion, moving with an agonizing slowness that I didn’t appreciate until now.

Excitement skitters along my skin, a breathless anticipation. We’re done with work for the week. Now it’s time to play.

Tilting my head and eyeing him up and down, I turn my voice low and husky as I say, “You look like you could use some company tonight.”

I watch as surprise and confusion flickers in his eyes, soon replaced with a flare of understanding and intrigue. He lifts his left hand, showing off his ring. “Sorry. Happily married.”

Letting my mouth dimple, I keep raking my gaze over him. He’s wearing my favorite outfit—the charcoal, three-piece Tom Ford, one of his ready-to-wear suits that still fits him like it was tailored to his body—with a wide, solid dove-gray tie. It’s a classic look and so exactly like the bored and important man on a business trip that I’m pretending he is.

“But you’re here all by yourself?” I arch my brows at him. “I’m sure your wife would understand that a guy gets lonely.”

His eyes sparking, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. She’s kind of scary.”

I roll my eyes in exaggerated exasperation. “You’re in charge, though, right? And if you decide you want to have some fun, then there’s nothing stopping you?”

He just regards me narrowly with a tiny smile, so I sidle closer, close enough to place my hand on his shoulder, running it slowly down to his chest as I purr, “Tell you what, you’re pretty cute and I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a discount. Not that you need it.” I inch back and make a show of examining him again. “You look like you can afford me either way.”

Glancing up at the changing numbers above the elevator door, which is showing us passing the sixth floor, he replies, “Well, I like to know what I’m paying for. Do you have a menu of the services you provide or something? And is it a la carte?”

I slip my hand under his lapel, feeling the heat emanating through his shirt. “I’m all-inclusive, baby. I’ll do anything you can think of.” I lean into him so that my breasts push against his arm, and a hum of satisfaction courses through me as I feel him stiffen at the contact. In a loud murmur, I add, “And a whole lotta stuff you’ve probably never imagined.”

He looks up above the door again. Eighth floor. “Do you take a credit card?”

I jerk back a tad, frowning—and slipping out of character. “I don’t know. Do I?”

“All you need these days is one of those things you plug into your phone, right?”

“In that case, yes.” I move my hand out of his jacket to stroke down the length of his silken tie. “But I’ll have to charge you a convenience fee.”

“See, I don’t get that,” he says with a shake of his head. “Seems like you should just work that fee into your operating costs.”

“I know, right?” I agree, my cheeks twitching as I try to push down my urge to laugh. “That’d definitely be more convenient, wouldn’t it?”

The elevator stops, the door splitting open. I drop my hand from him and hang back, letting him lead the way. In the hallway outside, he pauses and gazes down at me, eyes heavy-lidded.

“My room’s that way,” he says, pointing, and I almost lose it again, because of course I know that. It’s my room, too.

“Then let’s go,” I say, gesturing that direction, doing my best to maintain my seductive mien.

He starts strolling down the hall, passing door after door, and I stay beside him every step of the way. My limbs feel heavy, taut with desire and anticipation. It’s a delicious sensation, one of pure pleasure.

“I won’t kiss you on the lips, though,” I find myself unable to resist teasing as we turn the last corner near our destination. “Pretty sure that’s something I’m not supposed to want to do.”

“That’s all right.” Lips crooked, he leers at me as he digs inside his jacket for his wallet. “I’m sure you can find something else to do with your mouth.”

Inexplicably, my cheeks start warming, and I watch him fish out the key card and insert it in the door. The entryway light pops on automatically as we step inside, but beyond that small, empty area, the vast rooms beyond lie in the dark.

We leave it like that as we immediately start grasping at each other, stumbling deeper into the dim suite of rooms, fumbling with buttons and zippers and tearing off clothes. If I really were an escort and he was paying me, he wouldn’t get much value out of his time, because we’re too hungry and turned on to take it slow. Before I know it, I’m naked and on my back on the bed, and he’s above me and between my legs, also naked, and pushing inside me.

I do kiss him on the lips then, grabbing his head and pulling it down to mine. The pretense is fun, but it only goes so far. Now I want him as close as possible, want to feel every last inch of myself joined with him.

And there’s no pain—only joy. We turn this into a battle sometimes still, but just as often, there’s just this. Gentle touches, loving caresses, a tender exploration with hands and mouths. And finally, the pure pleasure of having him between my thighs, sometimes on top and sometimes below and always breathless and in a state of bliss, liking it best when I can see his face while he thrusts inside me.

Afterward, we lie entwined, our heartbeats slowly returning to normal. His hand on my hip, he pulls me closer and presses a kiss on my neck, and I tilt my head to give him more room, letting out a contented sigh.

“Looked like you were enjoying talking to your sister,” I say, running my hand over the broad expanse of his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “She’s easy to talk to.” As he pulls away just far enough that I can see his face clearly, he says, “I think it went better than I expected. She doesn’t have much of a filter. Perky and upbeat. Talks a lot. Kind of like Mia, except without the sarcasm and the cussing.”

An amused breath escapes me, and the corners of my mouth curves as even the near-darkness can’t hide the pleasure in his face. “You’re in love with her already, aren’t you?”

He blinks at me. “Is it that obvious?”

“I know you,” I say, raking my fingernails down his side, under his arm, and feeling him twitch as it tickles him. “How was your lunch with Charlton? Has he forgiven you yet?”

My husband snorts. “He only called me a pussy-whipped son of a bitch once, so I think he’s getting there.” Reaching up to my face, he brushes stray strands of my hair back. “How was Caroline?”

“Fine.” I roll fully onto my back. “Scott Mullane’s taken a plea, and so has Stu. Six months and a three-million-dollar fine.” Which is way more than he took in bribes, but I’m sure the money will go to a settlement for the city contractors who were cheated out of work, to stop them from suing.

“If they had Johanna, he wouldn’t serve any time,” Logan points out.

“Yeah, well, she’s still nowhere to be found. They think she had passports in fake names. She was ready to run.”

Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “I’d call her smart, except she stuck around too long, and getting involved with Caroline was tempting fate.”

“After Stu got acquitted, she probably felt bulletproof. And she had a plan for getting away, and it worked, so…” I shrug. “I filed for Caroline’s divorce again. Stu has agreed to give her whatever she wants in exchange for us not suing him for the damage he’s done to her firm’s reputation.”

“Well, that’s perfect, isn’t it?” His hand goes to my stomach and then skims up to fondle one of my tits, so that I’m not sure what exactly he’s calling perfect.

“Yeah,” I say, slightly out of breath, a zap of desire going between my thighs, where I still feel the sticky remnants of him. “So is Caroline telling me she has a friend who owns a tech company in the Valley who’s looking for new counsel. I have a consultation with her on Monday.”

He regards me with a thoughtful frown. “Corporate law?”

“There’s so much money in it.” I raise my brows at him, saying pointedly, “Which we’ll need once you start working for the ACLU.”

“I haven’t decided that for sure,” he replies, his face going blank.

“It’s your dream job. Why not?” He was approached by a director from their office in San Francisco a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been pushing him to accept the job offer. I understand his hesitation, know he’s been struggling to go from equity partner in a huge firm like Stevens and Hammerness to starting fresh with our own firm.

With the money from Hammer buying him out, we have zero financial worries, but Logan’s so used to raking in the big bucks, it’s become part of his identity. It’s going to take him a while to get comfortable with his new self.

“Just imagine my dad asking you how the defending-people’s-civil-liberties business is going,” I keep prodding with a teasing smile.

That gets me a bark of laughter. “He wouldn’t. Not snarky enough.”

“Good point.” I wonder what time it is, guessing by the lack of light coming through the slits in the curtains that it’s getting pretty late. “We should say good night to the kids. I’ll text my mom and see if they’re ready.”

They stayed with Mike last night, and tonight it’s my parents’ turn. Freya especially has found the move across the state a challenge, with leaving her friends behind down here. Living so close to their grandparents and their uncle Cam has helped a lot.

Mia and Jay are still in Africa, looking tan and sweaty and tired in their Facebook photos—but also happy. Probably because they’re having this experience together. I have no idea what their plans are when they do finally come back, but I’m hoping they decide to settle nearby instead of going back to Orange County. We all miss them so much.

“Okay,” Logan says, though he doesn’t let me go, instead tightening his grip on my ribs and pressing me into himself as he murmurs, “And then afterward, I want to find out if you really are all-inclusive.”

Smiling, I turn my head so we’re nose to nose. “I thought you’d figured out by now that I can’t say no to you?”

“Uh-huh,” his voice rumbles. “Because you’re my sexy, filthy little Good Girl.”

I let out a snort. “Better than being a kiss-ass Golden Boy.”

“Nah.” He plants a hard, lingering, hot kiss on my lips, and then he whispers, “I’m the luckiest pussy-whipped son of a bitch in the world. As long as you're mine, I don't want to be anyone else.”

I smile against his lips. I don’t want him to be anyone else, either. And he knows that. He knows he’s everything I want and need.

Some broken things can’t be fixed. But it turns out, we weren’t one of them.