Fire and Ice: A New Adult Erotic Romance by Mia Myers Page A

*
     
    “Peri!”
    I am at the baggage claim when I hear David call my name. David the brave. He is, after all, about to marry my sister. He catches me in a hug and swings me around, making me dizzy and breathless.
    I still haven’t recovered from my imaginary encounter in the bathroom. Afterward, I swear, the male flight attendant gave me a secret smile, like he’s seen this all before. For all I know, he has. For all I know, the man in 3B has inspired a legion of women to solo-join the mile high club, or at least try to. In fact, I’m positive he has.
    “You okay?” David asks. “You look a little flush.”
    I manage a nod. “The flight,” I say. “It was rough.”
    “I was so worried.”
    I’m jolted back to reality. David? Worried? “What? What’s going on? Is Athena okay?”
    “Fine, fine. No, it’s just the fact that a single plane was carrying both my soon to be favorite sister-in-law and my best friend.” David paces, then glances around. “Seriously, I was a wreck until you guys landed.”
    “I’m fine.” I punch his arm for good measure. “And you’re crazy.”
    “Have you seen George?” he asks.
    “How could I? I don’t know what he looks like.”
    David waves a hand like physical descriptions are beside the point, then uses it to shield his eyes as if this will help him locate George.
    “Are you sure he’s not invisible?” I say.
    David casts me a sidelong glance. “Shut up,” he says, but his grin is full of love and happiness and I can’t help but smile back.
    Then a blur of motion blocks my sight of David. It’s a tackle, a bear hug, back slapping and hand shaking. David’s best friend George is very, very real.
    He is also my imaginary lover.
    The man from 3B.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
    MY NORMALLY CALM and totally rational sister is in the middle of an epic Bridezilla meltdown.
    It’s Saturday morning and her cries from the resort’s kitchen brought me running, which I’m dressed for, complete with mittens and scarf and hat for a morning jog around Bear Head Lake. I dash instead into the kitchen and find Athena shaking a piece of paper at a man in a catering uniform.
    “It’s the wrong menu!”
    He cowers before her, all trembling limbs, wide eyes, and mouth frozen in horror. At six feet tall, my sister is intimidating on most days. On her wedding day? She is terrifying. Hot anger threatens to fry her carefully relaxed curls. Her skin is blotchy. At this rate, she will spend her wedding night in jail.
    I step between them.
    “What’s going on?” I ask.
    “Wrong! Menu!” Athena pants.
    I pry the paper from her hand. I scan it, then the trays of food the caterers are carrying into the kitchen. I look at the hapless man in charge. He gulps, then shrugs.
    I take Athena by the shoulders. It’s a stretch, but I’m not that much shorter. “Go upstairs. Go do some yoga or something. I’ll take care of this.”
    “Really?” Her eyes now are huge. It’s like we’ve switched roles. Today, I am the big sister. Today, I will take care of her.
    “Really,” I say. “I got this.”
    Suddenly compliant, she turns and departs through the swinging doors. Before they can shut, I catch sight of George at the breakfast buffet, surrounded by all of Athena’s sorority sisters.
    Of course he is.
    I sigh.
    After a moment—where I mourn what will never be—I turn to the menu in my hands. Filet and snow peas, chicken Diane. A dessert selection to die for. As wedding fare goes, this looks spectacular. Of course, Athena didn’t order a single item on the list, and that’s the whole point.
    “This looks great,” I tell the head caterer.
    He nods, still shell-shocked.
    “She’s not always so high maintenance,” I add.
    This time, his nod is skeptical. He’s seen too many brides on their wedding day I suspect. And since Athena is high maintenance, my words hold little conviction.
    I run through the numbers, a frown gathering on my brow. I can feel it furrow.