“That’s not true,” I say indignantly. “Only every other sentence.”
Alice shakes her head. “But she’s failed to mention that she’ll spend the next two weeks with him.”
“That’s not true either. He’s spending time at the camp. I’m spending time at the camp. But we’re not spending it together.”
Pippa grins. “She’s rambling.”
“Oh God. Stop talking about me in the third person.”
Alice steals a bit of my cake, shoving it in her mouth. “Of course, as soon as you tell us everything. That kiss made a lasting impression, huh?”
I called them right away after getting home on Friday and spilled everything.
“You didn’t meet him. He’s even more charming than on screen. You’d have the hots for him too.”
Alice feigns shock. “No, I’m married.”
“So am I,” Pippa reminds me.
“I still can’t believe you made out with one of the hottest men in the world,” Alice says.
Pippa gives me a probing look. “You’ll be careful, right? You’ll be spending two weeks with him, and... I just don’t want you to get hurt. We all know you’re an incurable romantic.”
I point a finger at her. “Whose fault is that? You got me on the whole happily-ever-after train.” Yep, I’m one of those creatures feared by men worldwide, the kind who has dreamed about her wedding since she was a little girl. I knew the type of dress I wanted ever since I skimmed my first bridal magazine. “Besides, you’re projecting way too much. It was just a kiss because the surrounding was super romantic.”
It was a delicious kiss. It held so much intent and sinful promises that my toes still curl thinking about it. But the thought that someone of Alex’s caliber has given it half as much thought as I did is ridiculous. He’s lip-locked with some of the most gorgeous beauties who’ve graced the red carpet, Amy notwithstanding.
Alice wiggles her eyebrows. “A kiss with the Alex Westbrook.”
It dawns on me that Pippa’s quiet. Pippa—like me—is never quiet unless she’s cooking up something. I’m almost afraid of what’s going to come out of her mouth next.
“How was it?” Pippa asks in a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Worth repeating?”
Yep, I was 100 percent right to be afraid, because now she brought forth the one thought I’ve been fighting to bury in the back of my mind.
“You two are a bad influence. You’re my older sisters. You’re supposed to talk sense into me.”
Alice cocks a brow, giving my cake longing looks. Unfortunately, there is nowhere for me to shift it so that it’s out of her reach. I’m flanked on both sides. Alice is the known food thief in our family, and I have no intention of sharing my cake.
“Sometimes a little fun is just what the doctor ordered,” Alice muses.
“Right, that’s it. I’m officially downgrading you from my trusted advisers to untrustworthy, corrupt influencers,” I announce.
Pippa flashes me a grin. “What would you do without us, though?”
Actually, I know exactly what I’d do, because I was on my own in Rome. I loved the city, the food, and working at the museum, but I missed my family so much; it was like a physical ache I carried around with me. Then, after I returned, Alice moved to London for a while, but that was a bit easier to bear because at least I was close to the rest of my family. But I’m so happy that she and her husband moved back to San Francisco. I love it when the three of us are together, plotting and laughing, and plotting some more. I wish they hadn’t fed the little devil on my shoulder, the one that spawns unruly, wicked thoughts of more kissing, but now that they have, well... bring it on.
Chapter Eight
Alex
Next Monday, I hop in my new car at 9:00 a.m., armed with coffee for the three-hour drive to Lake Tahoe. When I make it past the city limits, my manager, Preston, calls me. I put him on loudspeaker.
“Hey, Preston.”
“Already at Lake Tahoe?”
“On my way.”