Chapter 19

Queries and Conversations

" A re you OK?" I asked Winter. We split up for a short while after brunch before the author reading began, and it was the first time I'd had her alone since the night before. Elaine was socializing with Marty Sanderson, and Tammy and Beth had gone to see Catherine.

We strolled through the opulent lobby, with no destination in mind, just to be together before the next activity began.

"Yes," she answered. "Are you?"

"I mean, when I woke up in the middle of the night, you were gone." My voice carried a touch of disappointment that I wasn't aware I had put there. "I thought we had both fallen asleep."

"We did," she answered, peering around at the plush surroundings, the museum-quality paintings and golden crystal chandeliers. "When I moved to change positions, I realized I was lying on you, and … well, I figured I should go back to my room. I mean, you didn't invite me to stay, we just kind of crashed, so I wasn't sure—"

"Hey, Aspen, Winter," R.B. called. I looked up to spot her and Selina strolling toward us and the elevators.

"We booked appointments at the spa," Selina said, giving me an amused smirk. "Got to look our best to receive our awards tonight."

"Where's Jeri?" I asked.

"At the hotel gym, getting in a workout," R.B. replied.

"As if you didn't give her enough of one last night," Selina laughed, prompting R.B.'s cheeks to turn bright red.

"Hush!" Probably wishing to change the subject, R.B. asked, "Did you hear about the fire last night? I heard some hotel guests got stuck in a service room and it caught on fire, but supposedly nobody was hurt."

The realization struck me that the facts about our brush with death had not yet become public knowledge, and I wished to keep it that way. I grabbed Winter's wrist and responded, "Yeah, we smelled the smoke and saw the firetruck."

"Some luck, huh?" Selina shook her head. "First your room gets broken into and then there's a fire right down the hall from our karaoke. Remind me how unsafe New Orleans is, so I never come back here."

"We have to hurry," R.B. said with a glance at the wall clock. "Are you going to make my presentation?"

"We plan to," I answered honestly. She came to mine; the least I could do would be to return the favor.

The two stepped into an elevator, and I aimed for the sets of double glass doors and outside. I just wanted to be alone with Winter somewhere I couldn't give in to the impure temptation to satisfy my lust.

"Thanks," I said and released her wrist. Instantly, I missed the warm energy that came with touching her. "I don't believe it, but I can't be sure Selina isn't involved. And if they don't know what happened yet, I'm sure everyone will soon enough. Now, back to last night."

I pushed open the door and was backhanded by a slap of hot air. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. I spied some seating in the shade along the glass wall of the lobby. It provided a lovely view of manicured shrubs, flower boxes, and ornamental trees, along with the central standing statue guarded by old-timey iron hitching posts and pink azaleas.

Extending a hand, I invited her to sit on a bench with me. "You think Selina tried to kill us?" Winter settled beside me with a fearful aspect and folded her hands in her lap.

"No, I don't. But there are only four people I can be a hundred percent positive it wasn't—you, Elaine, Tammy, and Beth. Logistically, it could have been anyone else in the hotel." I shifted on the seat to face her at an angle. "Winter, I feel so bad that you and Elaine were in danger because of me—that you could have been hurt or killed just because you were with me. I wouldn't blame you if you want to spend the day with someone else. I mean—"

"No," she interrupted. "I like hanging out with you. If I didn't, if I thought it was too dangerous or not worth it, I'd go find someone else. I'm invested in you now, Aspen."

Invested in me. The idea awakened immense joy in my soul. People only invest in projects they believe will be successful or profitable. They don't invest in losers.

"Besides, it's a matter of principle. I have to protect you, or try, anyway. I need to stand up for what's right. This nutcase could have fixated on any of us, only she picked you. And you have no idea why?"

"At first, I thought it was because of the steamy love scenes in my books. Sometimes, people confuse fiction with reality."

Winter nodded, a humorous smile forming on her face. "Yeah, like Only a Touch Chapter Ten. Like anyone could actually do that."

My eyes shone at her teasingly while I pressed my lips together to suppress a grin. Oh, how I'd love to try that out with you someday soon! "Well," I said and watched her eyes round and her cheeks blush. "I was out of town and away from my keyboard for the week of Christmas and didn't answer any messages. When I got back, SapphicLover69 had gone berserk. She made it look like she was furious about being blown off, but that could have just been an excuse. I don't know."

I shook my head and glanced away. Near the statue on its tiny island, a few pigeons strutted around the brick paving, their soft coos filling the air as they pecked at seeds and crumbs. A luxury car pulled up to the door, and the valet hopped out to assist a couple with their luggage. The whoosh of cool air from the lobby felt refreshing.

"I used to love reading your posts," Winter said in a small, shy voice. "I missed them when you went offline."

For the first time, the realization struck me that this stalker's harassment had affected others besides me. I turned a surprised gaze to her, noting the sadness in her expressive eyes. "I didn't think anyone would miss me."

"Of course we did, Aspen. Your interactions were always positive and uplifting. You didn't gripe, moan, and complain like a lot of authors," Winter explained. "Oh, poor me—someone gave me one star. That person was rude to me, boohoo. Even with all the horrible lies SapphicLover69 spread and the hideously inappropriate sexual comments she blasted, you never once behaved like a victim or expected pity. You stood up to her with dignity and grace until it got to be too much. I understand why you did what you did. I might have given up way sooner. But I missed you when you were gone." She sighed, shaking her head, and added, "I just had to reread all your books."

At that, I laughed, experiencing some relief. "I want to read your books," I said. "I was too distracted on Friday at the book fair to pick any up, but—"

"I only have two so far, but you get one of each, for sure," she bubbled in animated glee. "Oh, my God—Aspen Wolfe reading my silly little stories!"

"Stop that!" I snatched her nearest hand and squeezed it between mine. "You're interesting, so I'm sure they will be too—although the science part could be way over my head."

"You think I'm interesting?" She blinked at me. Her thumb rubbed across the back of my hand in a caress that sent shivers through me despite the ninety-degree temperature.

"Would I be spending my weekend with you if I didn't?"

"I thought you were spending your weekend with Tammy and Beth, and I was just along for the ride," she said.

"Maybe at first."

"Oh, what luck!" squealed an enthusiastic voice. Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from Winter to witness Demi dancing, Nan strutting, and Luna dragging her feet as the three fangirls veered from a path to the lobby doors to zero in on us.

"We hoped we'd run into you again," Nan said. "And out here in a natural setting—rad."

"We didn't want to miss the reading," Demi continued. "Meeting all these sapphic authors is just the max!"

"Hello to you too, Luna," I added, assessing her with a fake evil eye. Though she had seemed shady at first, I was convinced she couldn't have pulled off the plot to kill me last night.

She flicked her head in recognition without uttering a word.

"It starts in ten minutes," Nan mentioned, her multicolor hair glowing three shades lighter in the sun.

Winter glanced at her watch, then at me. This time, I didn't release her hand just because fans had bounded up. I smiled with pride in myself. I could do public displays of affection, even if years of repression had trained me otherwise.

"Well, then, we should get a move on," I said, standing. Winter—attached at the hand—rose with me. "The twenty-third-floor foyer will be a madhouse."

I voiced an excuse to the girls that five would be too crowded in one car to score a minute more private time. Standing beside Winter alone in an elevator sent tingles coursing through me at thoughts of what I could do to her in the tight, secluded space … my hands exploring, mouth claiming, muscles clenching. Maybe just a kiss, I considered. As I leaned in to occupy her personal space, my heart thumping and anticipation racing, the car lurched to a stop, a bell dinged, and two more women bustled through the doors. With a grimace of discontent at the lost moment, I straightened and greeted conferencegoers who had become familiar faces over the weekend.

We stepped out into the crowded lobby, which brimmed with excitement. People were abuzz talking about the fire, who would get awards, the folks who won the raffles, the authors in the reading, and the adventures they'd had in the French Quarter the night before. Their attire ranged from shorts and T-shirts to cocktail dresses and sporty blazers. Winter's black tee with the words, "Frak Frell If Nothing Else Sci-Fi Taught Me to Swear" was witty and funny, especially since I hadn't heard a swear word—fictional or otherwise—come out of her mouth since I met her. Although I didn't know what the terms referenced, I relished the fact this shirt fit her tighter than her other ones.

"There you are!" called Tammy, who garnered attention even without the vigorously waving hand. Keeping Winter's grip securely in mine, I wiggled between conversing pairs and groups to where Tammy stood with her hands resting on the back of Beth's wheelchair. Elaine ambled over from the direction of the restrooms so that all five of us formed a clump in the middle of the frenzied writers, readers, and support personnel.

"We're here," I answered, trying unsuccessfully to avoid bumping others.

"Are you coming to the reading?"

I glanced over my shoulder upon picking out Catherine's elegant voice from the din. She stood beside Valery Preston, peering at her with a questioning expression.

"I think we'll miss this one," Valery answered politely. "None of our authors are participating, so we made an appointment to interview a romance writer, Marty Sanderson. I think her work shows potential."

Winter must have picked up on my attention to the exchange because she leaned in and whispered, "Well, duh! She's a finalist; of course, she has potential."

Cary stuck a powerful pose behind Valery as if protecting her rear, displaying her typical expression of displeasure.

"I'm sure she would make an asset to your slate of outstanding authors," Catherine praised. "Femlove Ink has played a pivotal leadership role in growing the art form we all hold so dear."

Her comment raised a question in my mind, so I turned to Beth. "Hey, how many of the finalists are published by Femlove?"

Beth pursed her lips, considering for a moment. "Almost half," she concluded. "The rest are spread among the smaller lesbian and LGBTQ presses and independent authors. It's not unusual, but they don't dominate the winners like they did when Valery was on the board. While it may sound like a conflict of interest, back then there were only a handful of lesbian publishers and now there are over a dozen with accolades to their names, not to mention scores of accomplished, independent writers. It used to be if readers didn't see a recognized publisher's label, they wouldn't even buy the book. They equated ‘self-published' with poor to nonexistent editing and an amateurish effort. Today—thanks to proficient authors like you—being independent doesn't always mean substandard."

"I wouldn't worry, Aspen," Tammy added. "You've won here before, and, with three chances, I'll bet you get at least one of them."

"You're with a publisher," I mentioned.

"Technically, I'm a hybrid author. Past and Prologue Press publishes my Viking series and my women knights' tales, but I self-publish books that don't fit those subgenres. If I write the New Orleans connection pirate tale, I'll put it out myself."

I nodded, considering all the angles as we entered the large room to hear our fellow authors share favorite scenes from beloved stories born of their imaginations, the children of their hearts.

When we entered Chin B to grab a seat before they were all gone, I observed Teresa, my shadowy tail from Thursday and Friday, sitting alone in a corner. Seeing as the rest of her row lay empty, I led our gang that way and took the seat beside her.

"Glad to see you made it back," I commented without too much ado.

She was dressed in black again, her long, dark hair still stringing across her face as she hunched in her chair. She shrugged. "I like Jules Novik's books too. Sometimes I think I should've been born a few centuries in the future instead of now."

Winter peered around me at the young woman and commented, "I could introduce you after the reading."

Her eyes rounded, and a look of amazement crossed her face. "I can't believe you're all so nice. Aspen Wolfe, Tammy Fairfield, and now … who are you?"

"This is Winter Bliss," I presented with pride radiating from my core. "She's a science fiction writer like Novik."

" Galactic Iliad ?" Teresa blinked.

"Yeah!" Enthusiasm blossomed in Winter's countenance. I got up, shuffled over, and traded places with her.