Shiver / Private Sessions: Shiver / Private Sessions

“What?” Erin asked, her voice a veritable trumpet.

“Shhh. Dammit. I’m going to get coffee. You sit here, young lady, and think about what you’ve done.”

“The hell with that.” Erin got up and followed Carrie to the back of the room to the giant coffee urns. The second they were reasonably alone, she poked Carrie in the side. “Spill.”

It was a damn good thing she didn’t know anyone in the place, or plan to ever see any of them again, because she was certain that in approximately ten minutes, the word around the conference would be how the nonbeliever was also a total slut. “All we did was talk. I was interested in the in-room massage prize. He said that could be arranged.” She smiled at Erin. “Even if I didn’t win.”

“Ha. I knew it. From that first minute. Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I say? Oh, I’m so jealous. He’s like the only doable guy in this whole place. Except for maybe Liam.”

“Liam, the conference coordinator? The married conference coordinator? His wife is here.”

“I’m not gonna jump him. Sheesh. I’m just making an observation.”

“That’s what you get for hanging around ghost hunters.”

“Hey, Sam is a believer. Remember?”

“He can believe in whatever he wants,” she said, cupping her coffee between her hands. “As long as he’s as great underneath those clothes as he is in them.”

Someone behind Carrie coughed. Not a real cough. The kind of cough that said she was busted. Even before she turned, Carrie knew who it was. Yep. The woman from their table.

“I like your pumpkin,” she said sweetly.

“Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’ll win the prize.” The woman, whose white T-shirt said Dude, Run in big black letters, gave her a grin, then walked away without even the pretense of getting a beverage.

“This just keeps getting better,” Erin said, taking way too much pleasure in Carrie’s embarrassment.

But Carrie’s attention was diverted when she saw that Sam had come into the room. In fact, he was standing by their table, looking at her pumpkin. And he was grinning with all the subtlety of a tree falling on a house.

“He,” Erin stated, “is hot. Very, very hot.”

“I got dibs,” Carrie said, which was probably obvious from the blush warming her cheeks.

“Come on.” Erin took her arm with her free hand and led Carrie to the table. To Sam. As soon as she was in range, Erin said, “Hey, Pumpkin. How you doin’?”

Carrie didn’t sock her friend, even though she wanted to. Instead, she smiled as innocently as she could. “Here to start the judging?”

He nodded. “I just announce, the group will judge.”

Erin set her cup down. “I’ll bet the female faction will vote for Carrie’s. Although it’s not at all scary.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “You don’t find that frightening? “

Erin touched his shoulder. “Sorry, babe. It’s the best-looking thing in these parts. Except for the inspiration.”

“Erin.” Carrie couldn’t have put more nuance on the name if she’d tried. It said Shut up, stop it, go to your room, and we may be on vacation, but I can still kick your ass.

Erin just laughed. She took her seat, crossed her arms over her Ghosts Do It in the Dark T-shirt and stared at the two of them as if they were on high-def TV. The Soap Channel.

“Go do your thing,” Carrie said, abandoning all hope of getting through tonight with any dignity.

“I’ll see you after?”

She nodded.

Sam hesitated, then took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Good.”

Carrie watched him as he meandered through the crowd, commenting to the participants, especially the younger ones. It occurred to her that this was all her own damn fault, and if she hadn’t wanted the hotel populace to know she wanted to sleep with the owner, she should have drawn a spooky little ghost and kept her mouth shut.

So she sat, resigned. “You can stop looking so delighted. I admit it. All of it.” Then Carrie turned to Erin’s neighbor. “And you can stop it, too.”

The “Dude, Run” woman burst out laughing. “You have to admit. I didn’t have to work very hard.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’m Lulu,” she said. “I’m here with my old man, who is busy watching some sports thing in the bar. He doesn’t believe in any of this stuff, and he wasn’t supposed to come, but since the bar has more ESPN than we have at home, he insisted. I gather you two are friends?”

Carrie nodded. “Nice to meet you, Lulu. I’m Carrie, that’s Erin. I’m not sure about us being friends, though.”

Lulu shook her head. “I can see that’s not true. Sorry for sticking it to you over by the coffee, but man, that pumpkin. Did you think you’d get away with it?”

“I guess not.”

“Personally, I don’t blame you a bit. He’s a cutie.”

A shiver went through Carrie, not big enough that anyone would notice, but she felt it move straight down her back until it made her cross her legs. This was becoming very real. Very close. Thank god she’d shaved her legs.

As she sipped her now-cooled coffee she tried to do a quick run-through of the coming night, despite having no idea of the actual logistics. His place? Where was his place? Her room? No one too close there, but he’d have to make the call. She supposed she could insist that it be her room. At this point, she doubted the game would be called on account of venue.

She’d brought condoms because she always brought condoms on the off chance. But it had been a while since Armand, and she was feeling surprisingly gun-shy. Normally, she had no qualms about her sexuality, but with Sam, she wanted him to like it. Her. A lot.

“Carrie.”

She blinked at Erin. “What?”

“You’re not in the bedroom yet, so please pay attention to the person sitting across from you.”

“Sorry. Zoned.”

“I guessed. Your squeeze is asking for pumpkins to be brought onstage.”

“I told you, I’m not entering.”

“You have to.” This, from Lulu. “It’s adorable and everyone’ll get a real kick out of it. It’s not as if the whole room doesn’t know.”

“Have I thanked you guys for that yet? No?” She leaned forward. “There’s a reason.”

“Honey,” Lulu said, as if she’d known them for years. “Half the people here were talking about you the minute you checked in. Some said you didn’t believe in ghosts. Personally, that’s fine with me. You can believe in whatever the hell you want. Others said you and Sam got into a little staring contest in line. Sherry said it was like you two were having sex right there in the middle of the lobby.”

“Oh, my god.” Carrie put her head in her hands.

“It’s kind of sweet,” Erin said. “No reason for you to be embarrassed. You’re both consenting adults and you’re not breaking any rules. They’re all just jealous. I know because I am, too. Do yourself a favor. Own it. If someone doesn’t like it, too bad.”

Carrie lifted her head just enough to stare at Erin. “Own it? Who the hell are you talking to?”

“The new you. The one who’s going to be brave and daring and fierce even when I’m in New York. The one who’s not going to lock herself in the loft and only come out when there’s no more milk.”

Carrie’s stomach swooped again, this time unpleasantly with the reminder that soon her life was going to change so dramatically. “I shouldn’t be hooking up. I should be spending time with you.”

Erin gave her a lopsided grin. “I love you, but not that much.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. But please, I beg of you, do this. He seems like a really nice guy. He’s not about to do something hinky. He’s the owner, he’s got staff, guests. If it’s terrible, so what? You both get a little itchy when you see each other and then you move on. It’s the perfect time and place to take a chance, trust me.”

“And how do you know that?”

Erin tapped her temple with her index finger. “Psychic.”

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