“Oh, my god! Sell my clothes, I’ve gone to heaven.”
Sara Gardener couldn’t agree more with her sister. The lobby’s mix of white marble, warm colors, and authentic natural wood accents was stunning. Glad to be here after what seemed like a never-ending trip from their home in Oakridge, Oregon, Sara closed her eyes and basked in the artificially cooled air engulfing her.
To be in Atlanta early today, they’d had a layover in San Francisco last night, then endured the second leg of the trip in an overcrowded cigar tube. “I’m with you. I didn’t realize it would be this warm here, particularly so early in the day.” A sharp jab in the ribs from her sister’s boney elbow popped Sara’s eyes open and she nearly dropped her suitcase. “Hey!”
“I’m not talking about the air conditioning, goofball.” Hailey, who’d dropped her own luggage, grabbed Sara by the chin and turned her head up toward the central cavern that made up the hotel’s historic atrium core. “I’m talking about a different kind of hot.”
Looking up sucked the moisture from Sara’s mouth. The soaring vertical space above was ringed with balcony walkways designed in a geometric block pattern surrounding a central tower. One that had glass elevators shooting up and down at a rate that couldn’t possibly be safe. Tearing her gaze away, she focused on the enormous golden sculpture erupting through the floor that ended in a precarious-looking conical fan several stories above. Although she could appreciate the grand architectural statement, looking at it wasn’t helping her vertigo.
“Not way up there.” Hailey adjusted the level of Sara’s chin lower, bringing into her line of sight an elevator stopping on their level. “There.”
A hunky highlander sporting nothing but a kilt, knee-high boots, and a sword slung over his massive shoulder emerged, followed by a bad-boy biker wearing plastered on leathers that left little to the imagination. Next came a sexy pirate with his lace-front shirt open, and finally, a hot cowboy stepped out in a set of chaps that showcased how well he fit into his jeans. The usual din of a Romantic Times Convention hotel in the throes of invasion by thousands of romance readers and writers rose as other women took note of the masculine display.
Hailey released Sara’s face and clapped her hands. “Now you’re cookin’, sis. Dibs on the kilt.”
Sara gritted her teeth and groaned. Not two seconds in and Hailey’s testosterone-seeking radar had fully engaged. “Stop staring and put your eyes back in your head.” Sara hissed while attempting to trap Hailey’s elbow. “They’re professional models, not toys. Don’t be so rude.”
Hailey feigned a look of shock and flung her arms to the side, evading Sara’s clutching hand. “Rude? I’m not being rude. I’m exercising my right as a red-blooded woman to appreciate a fine array of man-candy when I see one.” She looked up with a wink and waggled her fingers at the men. “If you ask me, you could use a toy that doesn’t require batteries for a change.”
“Hailey Jane Gard—”
“Besides, they don’t seem to mind.”
Much to Sara’s chagrin, the men were either waving back, smiling suggestively, or blowing kisses at her incorrigible sibling. She latched onto Hailey’s still fluttering hand and tugged. Fine. Let them flirt with Hailey, what did she care? While Sara wanted someone special in her life at some point, right now, her career came first. Besides, so far reality hadn’t compared well to fiction. Hailey could do what she wanted—but not here.
Snatching her luggage, Sara barely gave her sister time to retrieve her duffle bag before heading toward the check-in counter. Still stinging from the vibrator reference, Sara’s voice dripped censure. “Damn it, Hailey, we talked about this. You know conventions and signings are an important part of my career, especially now with my next book contract hinging on this TV thing. You told me you understood that and promised you’d behave.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s not like I’d jump MacHottie’s bones or anything. Okay, yes, I would, but not yet.” Her voice dropped an octave. “Och, lassie, have ye ever wondered aboot what a highlander truly wears beneath his kilt?” Hailey’s own tone continued. “Why, yes. Yes, I have.”
Lack of sleep, nervous energy, and her innate need to somehow make up for the mother they’d lost too young collided in Sara’s brain and frustration pushed the feeling past her lips. “Keep it up, Hailey, and it’ll be the last time I bring you along. I’m almost sorry now and we’ve only been here ten minutes.”
Her sister’s hand pulled out of Sara’s grip. “Sorry you brought me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sara’s feet stopped and her words of a second ago went through the filter they’d skipped the first time. Uh-oh. She’d done it again. After they’d been separated as kids, Hailey had gone through things that left her self-esteem on shaky ground, and Sara seemed to blunder into that minefield with alarming regularity, regardless of her good intentions.
She squeezed her eyes closed and took a cleansing breath before turning around to face her sister. Hailey’s arms were crossed over her chest and she’d planted her feet in a wide combative stance. Everything from her trendy torn jeans and scuffed moto jacket to her lug-soled boots and stony expression radiated badass.
Most would fall for it, but not Sara. They may have spent their formative years attending different courses in the foster system’s school of hard knocks, but they’d graduated with the same honors, so she could see past her little sister’s defense mechanisms to the hurt lurking beneath.
Sara dropped her bag again and lifted her hands in surrender. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything—”
Hailey’s overly bright eyes negated her snarling lip. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? I’m an embarrassment to you.”
“No!” Sara pulled her sister’s rigid body into a hug and held on so she couldn’t squirm away. “Don’t you ever say, or even think, something like that again. Do you hear me?” Moving back enough to see Hailey’s pinched face, she softened her voice. “You’re my sister and I love you. Period. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
It took several more attempts at cajoling on Sara’s part before the tension in Hailey’s shoulders relented, then with a loud sniffle, Hailey lifted the back of her hand toward her nose and broke eye contact. “I’m your only living relative, dork face. You have to love me. That doesn’t mean you want me here.”
Sara blocked the hand her sister was about to wipe her nose on and handed her a tissue from her pocket instead. “Of course, I want you here. Although I could do without the name-calling. I wouldn’t have let you badger me into it if I didn’t.”
It took a second for the words to register, and when they did, Hailey puffed up like a blowfish. “Badgered—”
Sara’s own ball of tension eased. “Besides, where else would I find a willing slave…I mean awesome assistant to help me juggle everything I need to do over the next several days, not to mention keep me in line at all the parties.”
The twinkle rekindled in Hailey’s eyes and her usual high color returned. “Parties! You? Talk about embarrassing. You don’t know the first thing about a par-tay.”
The last word was emphasized with the gangsta hand gesture and side bob of her head that Sara usually cringed at, but was happy to see now. “Really? And what would that be, oh queen of the club scene.”
“For starters, you can’t take your laptop to one.”
Sara, glad they were past their awkward moment, let go of Hailey and spoke over her shoulder as she retrieved her luggage and continued toward the desk. “Hey, I’ve been known to take breaks and have fun when I want to, you know.”
Hailey stretched her stride to catch up and swung her duffle bag over her shoulder. “Ha! Says she who only ever has one drink and thinks quality time with her streaming service counts as a hot date.”
Sara swatted Hailey and lowered her voice as they joined the growing line to check in. “I do not.”
“Oh really. When was the last time you interacted with a living three-dimensional male? Better yet, when was the last time you had sex?”
“Hailey!” Sara hissed, her face flaming. Her sister hadn’t lowered her voice at all, and several heads turned their way, trying to pinpoint the source.
Sara slouched her five foot eight inch stature down closer to five-three as another voice, on the verge of sounding too deep for a woman, rang out from behind them. “Five years and counting. Right, Sara?”
There was only one person in Sara’s life more outrageous than her sister and that was Nicki Canter, a fellow author she’d met at her first Romantic Times Convention in New Orleans four years earlier. They’d instantly hit it off and had been friends ever since.
“Wait, or is it more?”
“Nicks!”
They both squealed and dove at each other. Breaking free of the mutual bear hug, Sara squinted at the other woman. “I thought you weren’t coming this year.”
“Wasn’t going to, then you said you were bringing your sister and I changed my mind.” Nicki turned her attention to Hailey. “It actually has been over six years. It was right around the time your sister started writing about sex that she stopped getting any.” She cracked an evil grin. “I’m thinking before this week is over, between the two of us, we might get your sister’s cherry re-popped. What do you think?”
Hailey looped her arm through Nicki’s with an even more terrifying smirk on her face. “Ooo, I like her.”
Sara pointed a warning finger at each of them as they shuffled forward with the crowd. “We are so not talking about this. Besides between the convention and the TV show stuff, I’ll be too busy, so you can save your breath and your effort, ladies.”
They looked at each other and shrugged. Then Hailey lifted a fist for Nicki and grinned. “I say, game on.”
Nicki grinned right back and bumped Sara’s rotten little sister’s knuckles with her own. “Damn straight. I never back down from a challenge. Operation Re-pop is a go.”
“May I help the next guest please?”
Sara growled at them then plastered a pleasant smile on her beet-red face as she approached the registration desk and the far too knowing young man behind it.
She was so going to do something gruesome to her sister and Nicki in her next book.