Oh, shit.
“Um, it’s just simple boy meets girl kind of thing.” I clench my fists in my lap, grit my teeth and reach for the wine.
“Did I hear you say simple?” Merrin elevates her voice so it carries from the other end of the table. “It is anything but. One of the most fascinating premises I’ve read in a long time.”
Phil leans one elbow back on the armrest of his chair, holds his chin in his hand. “Well tell us about it. Merrin said she’d found a rare talent, but didn’t tell me about the book.”
“Yes, I did.” Merrin rolls her eyes with good-natured exasperation. “You’ve probably forgotten. I knew right away this book would sell.”
“Now you have to tell us about it,” one of the authors chimes in from midway down the table, his eyes glinting with interest.
“He’s being so bashful,” Merrin says. “I have no idea why, but I’ll tell it. I did have to pitch it all over, after all.”
“Oh, no.” My gaze flies to meet Sinclaire’s curious stare. “We don’t have to—”
“So there’s a guy who ends up at his brother’s house for an uplanned visit,” Merrin says, red-painted lips spreading into a grin. “Because his flight gets canceled and he has to crash with his brother and sister-in-law for the night.”
“I really don’t think they want to hear—” I start, heart pounding, demanding liberation from my chest.
“Not realizing,” Merrin continues, pausing for dramatic effect. “That they’re swingers.”
Murmurs of interest rise from the table, sounds of encouragement and humor.
I drop my forehead into one hand, shielding my eyes from Sinclaire’s penetrating glower.
“So he’s in the office, jet lagged,” Merrin says, eyes lit with glee. “And one of the swingers stumbles into the office where he’s asleep on the couch.”
I lift my head. “Please don’t—”
“And she sits on him,” Merrin cackles, clapping her hands once, really warming to her rapt audience now. “This girl’s husband has gone off with a couple for a threesome, and she didn’t want to play.”
“Prude,” one of the authors lobs with a laugh.
“Oh, no,” Merrin says, delight evident. “She asks him, the little hussy, if he’ll fuck—”
The scrape of Sinclaire’s chair, shoved back across the hardwood floor, slices into Merrin’s story.
“Excuse me,” Sinclaire says, the curves of her mouth flattened into a forbidding line. “I feel . . .sick. I’m going to lie down.”
The mirth on Merrin’s face quickly fades to concern. “Oh, baby. Did you eat the airplane food again? You know it never agrees with you.”
“No, I didn’t, Mom.” Sinclaire hurls the napkin onto her barely touched meal, her movements jerky. Her words staccato. “It’s just been a long day. I’m exhausted and . . .”
She takes in a deep breath, presses her hand to her stomach and forces a grin on everyone watching with various degrees of curiosity and concern.
“I just need to lie down, I think,” she finishes, heading for the dining room door. She pauses to drop a kiss on Merrin’s hair. “I’m fine.”
Once Sinclaire departs, the conversation falls back into little social pockets, various topics with different groups gathered around the table.
“Your restroom?” I ask Phil. “Could I . . .?”
“Oh, of course. Down the hall second door on the left.”
I stand, pushing my chair back, and swiftly following the hall that curves and puts me out of sight for those in the dining room. I walk past the bathroom, glancing at the photos hung on the wall. If only I had used the bathroom earlier, I would have seen Sinclaire’s face sprinkled liberally throughout the family photos displayed. A few feet further, light slips under a closed door. Glancing furtively over my shoulder, because this could be a real dumb ass move that jeopardizes everything, I knock.
There’s no answer.
“Sinclaire,” I hiss to the door. “It’s Harper.”
Nothing.
“Look, we need to talk. Just open the door and I can explain.”
Still nothing.
“Sin, I—”
The door swings open, and she glares at me, hands on hips. “Don’t call me that.”
“Um . . .okay.” I step forward, only to be blocked by the hand pressed into my chest. By the wall of fire Sinclaire has raised between us.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say from out there.” She leans forward to peer into the hall. “And say it fast and quiet.”
“I wanted to explain about the book.” I shake my head. “I had no idea Merrin was your mother when I signed with her.”
“Or maybe you wouldn’t have pitched her a book about fucking her daughter at a swing party?” Sinclaire’s eyes blaze into me with the heat and force of a blow torch. “What was it she called me? A little hussy?”
“I didn’t think of you that way at all. I didn’t write you . . .the character that way. It’s loosely based on our encounter, but not exactly.”
“Oh, so did you miss your flight?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And that really was your brother and sister-in-law, correct?
“Of course.”
“And you did fall asleep in the office during the swing party and I did sit on you and we did fuck.” She touches her chin, fake-contemplating. “Let me know when I get to the part where you didn’t put all my damn business in the streets.”
“I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
The words just slipped out, or maybe the truth shoves them out, but I don’t want to hold them back from her.
“That’s why I wrote the story,” I say. “When it turned out better than I thought, I started submitting it.”
I reach up to rub my knuckle over her cheek, but she pulls back and emits a low growl.
“Sorry.” I put up both hands, the universal sign of I’m harmless. “I was just—”
“Don’t touch me.” She drags both hands over her face and tips her head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I cannot believe this is happening. When does this book release?”
“In three months, but early copies are already out.” I smile, and allow some of my pride to show through. “Reviews have been great.”
“People already have this?” She turns back into the bedroom, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. “I can’t . . .if anyone ever found out.”
She turns horrified, worried eyes to me. “If my parents find out. Shit.”
I step into the room and gently take her by the arm, stopping her pacing and turning her to face me. I should have thought this through. The moment I touch her, the idea of reassuring her flies out the window and all I can focus on is how soft she is under my hands, how that enticing smell is even stronger when we’re this close, how her full lips might taste.
“We never kissed,” I say.
Her brows lift and she jerks away from me. “We did quite enough. I guess it happened so fast, we didn’t get around to kissing.”