Page 5 of Whiskey Splash

“Oh, yes he is,” she insists.

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“I don’t have to! You said he was looking for me, right?” I nod, knowing where she’s going with this. “Good, so I don’t need to meet him to know what’s on his mind.”

“That’s my point! You know how to handle all of this. I’m just—”

“Waiting for the fairytale romance,” Arie interrupts. “I know. I get it. But here’s the thing; sometimes it’s nice to just get laid—no strings attached, no expectations. And he’s Desmond Pike, so he’s probably shooting some film and will be gone in a week. So, live a little for once in your life!”

Her words hit something buried deep inside my ribs, the scared little kid, the one who’s always walked in Arie’s shadow. I’ve always watched my sister be larger than life, successful, gorgeous, wild. The fear that’s creeping up my spine is a gut reaction, a comfort I like to crawl back into, a cocoon of ease and safety that’s always whispering:You’re not your sister. You’d never get away with this. You’ll make a fool of yourself.But what if … what if I could get over myself for one night? What if romance and courtship didn’t have to be the end-all-be-all? What if I could have one fun tumble with a hot television star?

I’m young. I’m single.

What the hell is my hang up?

“Yes, that! Right there!” Arie is pointing at my face. “Right there, that glimmer. That’s the confident Esme I’m talking about. She’s in there. Now step out of that shell and promise me you’re going to rock him!” She makes a lewd gesture with her hips that almost makes me bail. “Nope! No, no,” Arie scolds, grabbing my elbow and moving us closer to Desmond’s booth. “You need to be reciting, ‘I’m a sex goddess. I’m going to rock his cock like he’s never known before. I’m going to try every position in the Kama Sutra. I’m a—’”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” I shoot back and she laughs.

“No, but I will make you a deal.” Arie turns to me again, right before the corner to the secluded section Desmond’s sitting in. “If you’re correct and he’s completely appalled by how you acted and ran out the back door, then I promise to watch all ofDownton Abbeywith you, no questions asked. Even though I know the show is going to be boring as hell.”

“It’s a great show,” I counter. “You’re going to fall in love with Lady Mary and—”

“If he’s bailed,” Arie interrupts, “then you can speech me all you want about Lady Whoever. But—” She raises a finger. “Ifhe is still here—which trust me, he is—then you’re going to do exactly as I say. Capiche?”

I frown at her. An ultimatum from Arie never ends well, especially after a lecture on how easy it should be for me to snag any guy and magically produce a blissed-out multiple orgasmic night.

It’s not like I haven’t tried, it’s just hard for me let down my guard and relax. In fact, I’ve never really had a good orgasm—to which I’m sure Arie would disown me and have our DNA checked, because clearly we couldn’t possibly be of the same bloodline. Not to say I haven’t come before, it’s just … it’s always been best when I’m alone, lame as that sounds.

“Capiche?” Arie asks again, and I nod against my better judgement.

“Fine, but when this turns out—”

“To be the best decision of your life.” Arie smiles devilishly. “Then yes, yes you can absolutely thank me over and over again. Now play it cool!” She moves us toward the hidden booth. “If you play this right, you won’t be watchingBillionaire Heat, you’ll be living it.”

The heat between my legs throbs greedily like that was the best news it’s heard in a long time, and despite all my reservations, I kind of hope Arie’s the type of crazy that might actually deliver. Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that one-hundred-percent without-a-doubt, all of Arie’s hair-brained ideas (especially those including me and men) have always turned into a complete disaster.

This is about to turn into a shit show.

Chapter Two

Arie spins us around the corner and walks us right up to Desmond’s booth.

His eyes widen with surprise, those amber jewels jumping back and forth between the two of us. With a hand on her hip and a ruby smile, Arie announces, “Desmond Pike!” almost loud enough to make those in the nearest booths turn and look. Desmond cringes slightly and I mouth the words “I’m sorry” to him, for little does he know the pageantry of Arie Noel is just getting started. “Thank you so much for coming to Flambé! We are absolutely delighted to have such a famous person here!”

“Thank you,” Desmond says quietly. “But if you wouldn’t mind…” He motions for her to keep her voice down, and boy, is that her cue.

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all!” Arie says, sliding into the booth next to him and sneaking a hand over his muscled shoulders. Desmond flashes a concerned look at me, and I shrug. This is the Arie he was expecting, wasn’t it? “Right here, please.” Arie snaps her fingers in Desmond’s face to get his attention again. “Thank you. Now, I see you’ve met my twin Esme.”

“Esme?” Desmond says my name slowly, looking past Arie again to see if the name fits, and something sparkles in his gaze.

“I know, beautiful name to match a beautiful lady,” Arie says, lowering her tone to something more seductive. “So, here’s how I see things.” Arie reaches over to pull the brûlée gun out of my belt, which she then uses to light the top of the champagne goblet again, tilting the glass so the fire dances across the full rim. “If this was a year ago, there’d be no doubt I’d be hooking you up for a threesome with me and my sister.”

Desmond practically chokes, his eyes widening at her directness.

“I know,” Arie agrees. “I agree. It would’ve been a completely amazing evening. But this isn’t a year ago and I’m no longer in the market for such escapades.” She blows on the top of the champagne glass seductively, turning the flames into a swirling pool of smoke that wafts between us. “My sister Esme, however, now she’s one-hundred-percent single.”

Desmond’s eyes flick to me a third time and I feel like my sister is trying to sell me off at some cheap charity “buy a date” night. But then his eyes turn back to Arie, craftily. “What are you saying exactly,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

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