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“Like you need another ego lift.” She tugs on her hem, then twists the mass of hair hanging over her shoulder into a long tight coil, her foot tapping a nervous beat that matches the elevator music’s sucky jazz version of “Another One Bites the Dust.”
When the elevator stops, she’s out before the doors slide all the way open. But as soon as we round the corner, she stops so fast I almost slam into her.
Ahead of us, the book signing spreads across the lower level of the hotel. Fabric-covered tables run end to end in rows. Ropes barricade the area on three sides. The back wall acts as the fourth. Volunteers corral people into lines that wind through the leftover space.
“Where do we check in?” I brush my fingers down her spine, positive the need to escape my touch will propel her forward.
Her feet stay planted like someone’s hammered six-inch spikes through her shoes.
“You okay?” Maybe I should’ve sold her a little harder on the deep breathing.
“I’m fine.” She drags a fingernail across her wrist.
The words sound practiced, but I don’t call her out for lying. Instead I lean in until my mouth is by her ear. Maybe if she gets mad, she’ll get moving. “Youarefine.” My voice drops into a low drawl. “Very. Very. Fine.” I run my thumb across her almost-bare shoulder.
My corny come-on works. She jerks away and navigates the perimeter of the crowd.
At the author’s entrance, a tiny gray-haired grandma—a third of the size of the guy I take with me to meet-and-greets—stands sentry. Looking down her glasses, she scans her clipboard and checks off a box. “Authors are seated in alphabetical order. Books are under the table. If you need anything, signal someone with an orange volunteer ribbon.” She unclasps the rope and waves Jess through.
I move to follow, and she re-hooks the rope. “Authors only until 6:30.”
“Icouldstand here till 6:30,” I tell Jess. “But people are starting to notice.” And if Grandma’s the only bouncer, I’m screwed.
“We’re together,” Jess says to Grandma, then breaks into a nervous laugh. “Nottogether,together.” She blushes. “I mean, he’s my—”
“Arm candy.” I grin at my quip because she won’t.
Grandma clasps the clipboard against her chest, her frown thicker than her glasses, and stiffly lets me pass.
When we’ve cleared her, Jess turns on me. “Why do you have to do that?”
“Make you blush? Be myself?”
She leaves me behind, stopping by the “T” nameplates on the crammed together white tables. But where Thorne should be, the cards go from Thane to Tilden—Canine Chick from Jess’s panel—who’s kneeling next to her nameplate in front of an open box of books.
Panic slices through Jess’s expression. “Where—?”
“They moved you.” Using the table to pull herself up, Donna stands. “Because why shouldn’t you bypass all the effort and hop right on over to the VIP section because of your dad.” She gestures at the red-clothed tables spaced far apart running along the back of the room.
Squeezing her wrist, Jess pushes both her hands against her stomach. “My dad has nothing to do—”
“You sure?” She sticks a skinny hand on her skinny hip and glances toward Vi, who’s heading toward us a few feet away.
“I don’t—”
“Deserve the VIP row?” Donna’s slitted eyes overshadow her canine nose, giving her a pissed-off panther vibe. “You’re right. You don’t.”
Vi steps between them, tosses Donna a look I can’t read, then leads us to the red VIP tables. “You have to understand where Donna’s coming from,” she tells Jess. “It took her eight years to sell a book when it took you eight days.”
“Lucky her,” Jess mumbles.
While I’m trying to figure out why Jess sounds like she means that, I’m also rethinking the way she blew me off when I asked if I’d read anything by her dad. Only, I don’t know any other authors with the last name Thorne.
ThePackposters Alan had printed locally take up a third of the space on Jess’s table. Her books and a few piles of bookmarks cover the rest.
When she leans over to rescue a stray bookmark from the floor, I pick up a fine point marker. She’d look amazing with my name scrawled—
“Vi.” Straightening, Jess latches onto Vi’s arm. “I’m not supposed to be in the same row with Catherine Kyle.”
