assertive, someone like…like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The TV series had become one of her favorites. Now there was a woman to be reckoned with. Sierra pictured the feisty blonde with her kickass attitude. And Buffy probably always had great sex, too.
And Buffy’s nerve would come in handy, too, if Sierra was going to ride over the objections her sisters were sure to make when they heard her plan. Even though she was only fifteen minutes younger than Natalie and a mere seven and a half minutes younger than Rory, her family had always treated her as the baby. And despite that she was an adult now, her sisters still felt it was their duty to protect her.
Opening her eyes, Sierra let out another disgusted sigh when she saw that the little white man on the pedestrian traffic signal had changed to a blinking red hand. Not even Hamlet would have hesitated at crossing a street. And Buffy would have been at the Blue Pepper by now. She hurriedly stepped off the curb, but halfway across the street, paused and drew a blue note card from her canvas bag. Then she reread the heading. Five steps for initiating a sexual relationship with a man. For the first step in becoming a full-fledged participant in life, she’d decided that she wanted to learn more about her own sexual side. Her curiosity about that no doubt had grown out of her current research into the sexual practices of modern single urban dwellers.
Her decision to kick off her plan with a sexual adventure would not only satisfy her curiosity, but it was also very practical. After all, her research so far had provided her with some expertise—even if it was totally vicarious.
She’d collected hundreds of case studies, and completed nearly as many interviews. Plus, she had a five-step plan. If there was one thing that she could do in her professional life it was to stick to a plan once she’d mapped it out.
The sharp blast of a horn made her jump, and a quick glance around informed her that five cars were waiting for her to get out of the pedestrian walkway.
“Lady, could you hurry it up?”
Rush hour in Georgetown was not the best time to dawdle. Stuffing the blue card back into her bag, Sierra waved apologetically to the man in the silver convertible. The black sedan next to it revved its motor. She dashed to the curb.
Once she was safely on the sidewalk, she dug in her canvas bag for her inhaler. After using it, she dropped it back in her bag, then drew in a deep breath and continued up the street.
The Blue Pepper was only a block away, and her sisters had agreed on very short notice to meet her for the grand opening of Harry’s letter to her. She rubbed the heel of her hand against the little ache that always settled around her heart when she thought of her father.
She and her sisters had lost Harry Gibbs twice—once when they’d been ten and Harry had decided to follow the call to adventure and resume his career as a master jewel thief. That was when they’d made a pact to call him Harry. Then when they were twenty, he’d died in a climbing accident, and they’d lost him permanently.
Sierra had always blamed herself for the fact that Harry had left them behind. If she hadn’t been so prone to illness, her mother surely wouldn’t have been too worried about her youngest to go with him. Amanda Gibbs had loved her husband deeply, and she’d passed away within months of Harry’s death.
Then suddenly, on the day that they’d turned twenty-six, the letters from Harry had arrived. Of course, Natalie had read hers the night she’d received it. If there was a gene for courage, Natalie had inherited it. Her job on a special task force with the DC Police Department testified to that.
Rory who always met life head-on had only needed an extra two weeks to open hers. Then she’d been off and running, putting their father’s advice right into practice. If there was a daredevil gene, Rory had gotten it in spades.
The way Sierra figured it, she’d inherited nothing from her father. The one thing Harry Gibbs had never been was a coward, and she’d postponed reading his letter for almost a month because she was a chicken. She was sure that his advice to her would be different. Harry had always treated her differently than he’d treated her sisters.
Sierra stopped short when she realized that she’d walked half a block past the Blue Pepper. Nerves bubbled in her stomach. After reaching for her inhaler, she used it again and drew in several steadying breaths before she turned and walked back to the restaurant. Then she pulled out her blue card once more and began to pace. Five steps—she could do this. When she finally glanced up and caught her reflection in the glass door, her confidence wavered. The woman looking back at her had her hair twisted into a bun and wore a loose-fitting, drab-colored jacket and skirt. And sensible shoes. Sierra Gibbs—academic nerd.
Think Buffy, she reminded herself.
The moment the image of the vampire slayer was clear in her mind, she squared her shoulders. “I can do this.”
Sierra Gibbs was sick and tired of being a coward. If she had to imagine herself as someone else to find some courage, so be it. Striding forward, she pushed through the door of the Blue Pepper.
IN RYDER KANE’S mind, the Blue Pepper was a yuppie haven. And the kick of it was he fit right in. Fifteen years ago when he’d been fighting for survival on the streets of Baltimore, he’d never have imagined ending up in a trendy Georgetown bistro drinking a designer label beer and wearing the kind of finely cut clothes that allowed him to blend in perfectly with the other well-heeled clientele.
If his Aunt Jennie could have seen him now, she would have been proud. And if his mother could have pictured this kind of a future for her son, she might have thought twice about abandoning him when he was twelve.
With a wry smile, he lifted his beer and toasted his high-tech security business, Kane Management; it had played a major role in his transformation. And thank God that computer security wasn’t the only business that he dabbled in. While it had put a great deal of money in his pocket, it was his other business, Favors for a Fee, that was his real love. It provided the kind of adventure and excitement that was lacking in a lot of the security work he did. Not to mention that doing “favors” for a select clientele allowed him to use some of the skills he’d picked up when he’d served for two years in a Special Forces unit.
But tonight wasn’t about work. Ryder was meeting up with Mark Anderson, an up-and-coming investigative reporter for The Washington Post. He was looking forward to seeing Mark. His friendship with Mark went back to his early days in Baltimore. They’d been fifteen or so. Of course, neither of them had worked in legitimate professions then. They’d both had close brushes with the law and survived mostly on street smarts. But they’d been friends. In addition to that, the cryptic message Mark had left on his voice mail had intrigued him: “I’ve got something hot and political that I need your perspective on. Meet me at the Blue Pepper at five.”
Turning slightly on the bar stool, Ryder scanned the entrance area and the upper dining level. Then he checked the crowd in the bar again. In the half hour that he’d been waiting, the area had filled so that patrons were standing three-deep, and conversation, thanks for the most part to a group at the far end of the bar, now drowned out the TV set that was carrying the final inning of an Orioles game.
“Hey!” a large man waved a hand at the bartender. “Another round over here.”
It was the third round the rather obnoxious man had ordered since he’d taken his seat. Ryder glanced at his watch. There was no sign of Mark Anderson, and it was nearly five-thirty.
He was lifting his glass for another sip of beer when he spotted the tall blonde through the glass entrance door. She wore her pale, straw-colored hair fastened into bun, and even though she wore a loose-fitting jacket and long skirt, he could see that she had that slender, Audrey Hepburn/Nicole Kidman kind of body. Sexy.
Tall women with mile-long legs were one of his weaknesses. Twisting his chair a little further, he watched as she used an inhaler and then paced back and forth in front of the restaurant while she studied a blue paper. A true nervous Nelly, he decided. Finally, she paused, stuffed the paper into her bag, squared her shoulders and approached the door.
His curiosity piqued, Ryder narrowed his eyes. She