Page 97 of Flirting with Forever

“Sexy.”

“Peter?” Cam forced a laugh. It was exactly the same thought she’d had at Ball’s, right before her world imploded. He wore the clothes of the twenty-first century as if he belonged here.

“Have you thought about sleeping with him?”

“Jeez, Anastasia, first you’re practically shoving me into Jacket’s arms, and now you’re asking if I’ve thought about sleeping with Peter?”

“Have you?”

Only every night since Guy Fawkes. “No.”

“Good. I know you value fidelity. Once you’ve entered into a relationship, even at the very, very start, you would never do anything to jeopardize it. You’ll laugh, but I admire that about you. You know me. I’ve always been a bit of a slut.”

Like calling K2 a bit of a hill.

“But you… You’ve always honored that connection you have with your partners. You’ve always been honorable and faithful and true—”

“Yes, yes, yes, we’ve established I’m the Mother Teresa of the dating world. What is this all about?”

“Nothing.” Anastasia stood and brushed a speck of dust off her wide, tasseled sash. She spotted the dry cleaner’s bag hanging on the back of the door, and her eyes popped. “What’s this?”

“Evening clothes. I’m sure you’ve heard of them. They have them in Stalingrad, I believe.”

“I don’t mean the outfit. I mean the color. I’ve attended over a dozen museum parties with you, and I’ve never seen you in anything more daring than black. And now you’re wearing olive and white? What gives?”

Cam flushed. “I-I was told I look nice in olive.”

“You do. You definitely do.” Anastasia walked by the dress, considering. “Now, about tomorrow. The board meets at one. One of us is going to walk out of there the director. I think it’s me. Which isn’t to say you’re not the most qualified candidate—apart from me, of course. But I have a friend who’s chummy with three or four of the members. He hears things he passes along to me. The tide has turned in my favor. The selection will be finalized tomorrow.”

Cam drew her finger along her lashes with a bold swipe. Anastasia was prone to exaggeration. “They may change their minds when they see the Van Dyck. It’s exceptional.”

“They may. But they’ve known about the acquisition for three months now. You’ve already gotten whatever credit you’re going to get out of it. The only thing it could do for you now is lose you points.”

“Lose me points? How?”

“I don’t know. Not being as good as they expect. You’ve sold it as a blockbuster, Cam. What if it’s not quite everything it’s cracked up to be?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I forgot how trend-intensive seventeenth-century paintings were. Last season it was lace-up Rembrandt still lifes. This season it’s plum-colored Vermeer portraits.”

“Cam, I’m trying to be a good older sister here. Mom said you’re always landing in shit.”

“That was the petting zoo when I was five, and you were the one shoving me out of the way to get to the feed dispenser.”

“There was a billy goat about to attack.”

“There was a guy from Mt. Lebanon Magazine with a camera, and you were afraid you weren’t going to be the girl in the picture.”

“Cam, all I’m saying is it’s not going to turn out as you expected. Wouldn’t it be better to come up with a graceful bow out?”

Cam gazed into her sister’s steely gray eyes. Crap, how was it fair Anastasia got their father’s poker face and Cam, her mother’s “I even lose at Go Fish” eyes?

“I don’t think so,” Cam said. “I’m sticking with it to the end.”

“You’re sure?”

“I guess I’m just going to have to listen to my heart.”

Anastasia nodded. At the door, she paused. “Then listen to it, Cam. You know what it’s saying.”