Gatlinburg Getaway (Destination: Desire) (2 page)

“Feng is wise.” Camille nodded sagely.

Levi harrumphed, flicking his fingers against the top of her paperwork. “Go home and pack. Your sister is coming to pick you up and take you to the airport in ninety minutes.”

“Which sister?” she asked sweetly, knowing he was terrible with names and wanting to needle him for kicking her out of the office.

“The redheaded one,” he retorted.

“Ha. Ha. So funny.” All of the Kirby sisters were redheads. Anne and Nora, the two oldest, had bright, flame-red hair. Hazel and Camille had slightly darker shades, but still undeniably red.

“You need a break, darling.” Feng grabbed an elastic band and clubbed his long locks into a ponytail. “Have fun. Do your presentation and then sit by the pool and work on your tan.”

“I freckle, darling, I don’t tan.” After pushing out of her desk chair, she tucked her laptop into her oversized purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “I’m out of here, but don’t think for a moment I’ll forget this. Or that I’m not already plotting my revenge.”

Appearing unimpressed by the threat, Feng drawled, “I’m quivering with fear, I promise.”

“You should be.” Levi straightened in his seat, his already pasty skin going paler. “Remember that time junior year when our TA tried to flunk her because she wouldn’t fuck him?”

“Jesus, yeah.” Feng’s sparkly lashes fluttered as he flinched. “I doubt that guy has recovered from the psychological trauma.”

“He’s certainly never going to father children.”

Both men crossed their legs and gave her wary looks. She returned a sunny smile. “Bye, boys. Have a good time without me, thinking about all the terrible ideas I’m coming up with for how to get back at you.”

She wiggled her fingers in farewell and sailed out the door, barely holding in a laugh. That should teach them not to mess with her again.

Though if she were honest, she’d admit they were right about her being a bit too workaholic lately. They’d all needed to put in insane hours when they’d opened the company, but once they’d begun to turn serious profit, her partners had slowed down to a more reasonable pace. She hadn’t.

They also needed to hire a few more staff members. Maybe this trip could double as a recruiting venture. One of the female grad students from Stanford had had promise. Maybe she was in the group they’d send. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more estrogen in the office. Not that gender mattered one whit in her hiring process—Camille was only interested in people who could get the job done and brought good ideas to the table. As long as they passed the background check, the rest was immaterial, and she knew Feng and Levi felt the same way.

Drawing in a deep breath, she smelled the distinct aroma of seawater. If she were a few blocks over, she’d be able to see and hear the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. Her house was about halfway between the office and the beach, which suited her just fine. She’d been raised on the water, and after her accident, it had soothed something in her soul to dig her toes into the sand and listen to the rhythmic surge of the sea.

Of course, she’d also appreciated that she had ten toes available to dig into the sand. It could so easily have turned out far worse. Death had been a very real option that day.

She turned a corner onto a tidy street with well-kept homes; the third one down was hers. Walking up the front path, she smiled. God, she loved this house. It was a low-slung, one-story, mid-century modern, with interesting angles and only a single step up for the porch, which was a blessing on days when her knee acted up. She had mostly good days anymore, but every now and then she did something to tweak it and
bam
, she was forcibly reminded that she wasn’t quite like other twenty-something women.

Her lovefest for her home meant she almost missed that her sister’s car sat out front. Well, she had to hand it to her partners—they knew how to execute a plan. They weren’t giving her any outs for this trip, making sure she had a personal escort until her plane departed. It’d be impressive if it weren’t so annoying.

The front door to her house swung open as she approached, and Nora stood there waiting for her. “Hey, sweetie.”

“Glad that spare key came in handy for you,” Camille drawled. She popped a kiss on her sister’s cheek as she walked in. “So, explain to me how my partners knew you were going to be out of town this weekend and I wasn’t?”

“Because I told them.” Her sister’s tone was unapologetic. She shut the door and headed into the kitchen for a bottle of water. “They’re sending you on a trip to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s supposed to be gorgeous there. Great Smoky Mountains National Park, forests, fresh air—”

“Dollywood,” Camille interjected, dropping her purse on the kitchen table.

Her sister didn’t quite manage to disguise a smile as she took a swig from the bottle. “Well, you don’t have to go to Dollywood, you know. And Dolly Parton is timeless.”

“Is that what we’re calling plastic surgery now? Timeless?” Folding her arms, Camille stated flatly, “If someone starts playing a banjo, I’m out of there.”

This time, Nora didn’t bother to hide her grin. “I like country music. Bluegrass too.”

“Fine, you go.” Camille gave up and turned for the hallway to her bedroom. Might as well pack, since she wasn’t getting out of this. As much as she realized it was time to crank her work routine down a notch, habits were hard to break. Plus, she didn’t like being ganged up on. It was a fucking intervention to send her on vacation—how ridiculous was that?

“Sorry, dear. I can’t go.” Nora followed her to the master bedroom. “I’m a nurse. Engineering is a whole different dialect of STEM nerd.”

Camille snorted. “Don’t try to make me laugh. I’m annoyed with you.”

“No, you’re not.” Her sister set her bottle down on the dresser and went to fetch a suitcase from the closet. “If you were really annoyed, you wouldn’t tell me first—you’d just seek quiet and devastating revenge later.”

True enough, but she didn’t have to admit it. Camille sniffed. “It is a dish best served cold.”

Nora emerged with the biggest piece of luggage Camille owned. Camille shook her head and her sister turned around and fetched the smaller suitcase from the closet. Nora asked, “How are you going to origami everything for a week in here? Your purse is almost as big as this.”

“My mad packing skills defy logic and the laws of physics. Even if I explained how it works, you couldn’t comprehend.”

“Whatever.” Nora rolled her eyes. “Anyway, if you really hate the idea of Gatlinburg, you can still go camping with Ben and me.”

“Yeah, and his sister and brother-in-law and their two under-five-year-old children.” Shuddering, Camille dug through her drawers for underwear, socks, and other lightweight summer clothes. Tennessee was a good deal hotter and more humid than Half Moon Bay, which stayed mild most of the year.

“Children are cute.” Her sister dropped the case on the bed and flopped the lid open.

Camille huffed, stacking her clothes neatly in the bag. “Children are dirty, smelly, screaming, whining, eating machines.”

“Motherhood is going to suit you so well,” Nora said, sotto voce.

“I do want kids someday.” Which might be the first time Camille had ever admitted that aloud. “But I’m not wearing rosy glasses about the realities of raising them. It’s hard work.”

“Ben thinks he needs practice.”

Her gaze shot to her sibling, and her eyebrows rose. “Are you pregnant?”

“Not yet.” Nora waved both hands as if warding off the very idea. “I want to get a couple of years of marriage under my belt before I’m ready to throw out the birth control. It’s only been a few months since the wedding.”

Heading into her closet for a couple of business outfits—which she usually only wore when she met with clients—Camille called over her shoulder, “Ben’s ready, huh?”

“He’s always ready before me, but he’ll wait. I’m worth it.”

Considering they’d done an enemies-to-lovers thing a couple years ago, and Ben had had a secret thing for Nora forever, big sis was understating things just a touch. Camille winked as she walked out of the closet. “Make him work for it.”

Nora waggled her eyebrows and made no other response.

Camille laid the more formal garments on top and propped her hands on her hips to eye her suitcase. “Okay, that’s enough for a week, plus a bit extra if I get stuck somewhere during a layover. Other than toiletries, what am I missing?”

Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Bathing suit?”

“Right.”

She grabbed a black one-piece from her bathroom where she’d hung it to dry. Swimming was often easier on her knee than other forms of exercise, so she jumped in the pool a lot. No, she didn’t give a damn if that meant people saw her scar in all its puckered, ugly glory. She wasn’t ashamed of having survived a car accident that hadn’t been her fault. She also wore skirts and shorts just as often as pants. Let people stare if they wanted to. They’d get over it or look away. Whatever.

She slung the swimsuit over her shoulder and made sure her toiletry kit was well-stocked.

“Take some condoms too,” Nora said, appearing behind her in the bathroom mirror.

“Really? Are you and Feng also in cahoots on me hooking up with someone there?”

“Hey, take it from someone who went on a road trip from hell with her worst enemy and came home with the best O-face of her life. Pack some Trojans. Just in case.”

“My last booty-call arrangement ended when the guy got all serious with some chick and married her.”

That had been…eleven months ago? Maybe even a year. Jesus, she couldn’t even remember the last time she got laid. A sad state of affairs, indeed. She pulled an unopened box of rubbers off the top shelf of her medicine cabinet and checked the expiration date. Yep, still good. She’d purchased these right before Mr. Booty Call had turned into someone else’s Mr. Right. Ah, well. He was a nice guy, great in the sack, if a little vapid. Hey, she hadn’t been looking for a relationship, and a girl had needs.

She gathered everything from her bathroom and took it into the bedroom. Eyeing all the items that needed to go in the case, she did some mental arranging before she decided where each piece would go. “It’ll fit.”

“You’re insane. For a normal person, that’d be an overnight bag.” Nora kicked off her sandals and crawled onto the opposite side of the bed to prop herself against the headboard. “You are the most anal retentive packer I know.”

“You’re just jealous of my God-given talent.”

Nora’s tone turned solemn. “And the Lord came down from on high and said, ‘Thou shalt pack like a crazed squirrel preparing for nuclear winter. Go forth, my child.’”

“Yes. It was exactly like that.” And then Camille proceeded to squeeze a week’s worth of outfits and toiletries into a teeny-tiny bag. “Can you get my fold-up cane? I don’t think my knee will act up, but it’s best to be prepared. Top left drawer on the dresser.”

“Sure.” Nora popped up and brought back the specified item in short order.

Camille took the collapsible cane and wedged it down one side of the case. “Needing this is more likely than needing condoms, to be honest.”

“I’ll continue to hope you’re wrong and something good makes you unwind this week.” Nora stepped back while Camille zipped up, set the suitcase upright on its wheels, and extended the handle. Nora lifted an eyebrow. “So…airport?”

Camille sighed. “If you insist.”

Concern folded her sister’s expression. “You know you’ve been working too hard, right?”

“I’m aware.” The words were reluctant, but it would only worry Nora more if Camille was so out of touch that she didn’t know when she was pushing too hard.

“Please enjoy this week and relax. No working.”

“It’s a professional conference.” Camille wasn’t about to make a promise she couldn’t keep, especially not to one of her siblings. “I’m presenting and networking and possibly recruiting a new employee.”

“Well, you need to hire some help, but still.” Nora’s tone was implacable, the no-nonsense voice she used with recalcitrant patients. “Keep the work to an absolute minimum. Promise me.”

“I swear.” Camille patted her arm. “You worry overmuch.”

“I know. It’s just how I am.” Nora waved toward the hallway. “All right. Let’s get you to the airport.”

“Yep, I need extra time for the pat down with security.” Camille offered a dour smile. “Even though they can see the bionic knee in the scans, they always have to feel me up anyway.”

Her sister wrinkled her nose. “I really wish they’d accept a doctor’s note, but I guess they figure those can be fabricated.”

“That’s what they told me when I asked.” Camille took the handle on her bag, rolled it out to the living room, and then grabbed her purse from the kitchen.

“That sucks.” Nora looped the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“A lot of things in life do, sister mine, but we deal with them. But let’s talk about things that only suck in good ways. How’s that sexy stud muffin of yours, other than ready for you to call him Big Papa?”

“Ben is good, thanks for asking.” Nora cast her A Look, stepped onto the porch, waited for Camille to lock up, and led the way out to her Chevy. “Though the next time Mom asks when we’re having our first child, I’m going to strangle her.”