Kiss Me, Lynn by Linda George

me you won’t push him away. And don’t worry about the others knowing about your little fling. They already know.”
    “ Gee. You think? What gave you the first clue? Cathi’s hero named Alex, or her heroine named Lynn?”
    “They’re as happy for you as I am. Give yourself a chance, sweetie.”
    Lynn swiped some tears from one cheek. “Okay. We’ll give this little fling a chance. But that’s all it is. A vacation fling.”
    “That’s the spirit. Now get dressed! Wear something sexy!”
    “I didn’t bring anything sexy.”
    “It won’t matter what you wear. Alex will think you’re beautiful.”
    “Enough already! We’re late!”
    Sharon disappeared into the bathroom to change. Lynn went through the clothes she’d brought and chose a hot pink knit top with “sparklies,” as Sharon called them—something she’d picked up from an animated movie with some sort of crazy crow—and her black jeans with matching “sparklies” on the back pockets. Might as well go for broke. The pink top had a matching sweater that would help tonight when it got cooler.
    Lynn thought about checking e-mail, but decided she’d check it tonight, after they got back, or tomorrow. She knew her father would call if the situation were extreme. She wanted their first full day in Cusco to be carefree and fun. So far, it had met all of her expectations. Her mother’s illness, whatever it turned out to be, was going to mess up her life beyond repair, no matter what her father had said. This could be the last vacation Lynn could take for years. She’d know by the end of this tour if sprucing up her unit on Machu Picchu would be the ultimate result, or if it would be something much more complicated. And heartbreaking.

Chapter 9
     
    They walked to the Museo del Pisco. Almost everyone had worn something more dressy than they’d worn during the day for touring, but they’d all chosen nice jeans. When Alex saw Lynn’s hot pink top with the “sparklies,” his eyes sparkled, too! Lynn reminded herself she couldn’t have more than two Pisco Sours tonight.
    They heard the music before they ever opened the front doors. The front room of the Museo was small and packed with people obviously having a wonderful time. A few tried to dance in the small space, but most simply sat in small groups with food and drinks covering the tables.
    A bald man, tall, lanky, holding a drink in one hand and flashing a huge smile, called to Alex from the top of a short flight of stairs on the left side of the room. “Alex! Up here!”
    Alex directed them up the stairs to where the man waited with arms wide. He hugged each of them in turn, then directed them to a room at the top of the stairs. When Lynn got to the room, the others were finding stools around a tall bar in the corner. Off to the right were tables and a corner booth, with a door leading onto what looked like an open hallway. There was no one else in the room, but that didn’t mean the room was quiet. They could still hear music and conversation from downstairs. Alex closed the door after they were all inside, which made it possible to hear what the bartender—Sergio—told them about the different kinds of Pisco. Lynn sat close to the left end. Alex eased onto the stool next to her and leaned onto the bar, as interested in what the bartender was saying as though he were hearing it for the first time.
    “ Pisco is a type of brandy made from white grapes. Many people who come to Peru compare the taste to tequila, and a Pisco Sour to a Margarita. But you won’t find Margaritas in Peru.”
    “Why not?” Cathi asked him.
    “Because they had a contest years ago to see which drink everyone liked best. The Pisco Sour won! Tonight, you’ll see why. Have you already had a Pisco Sour?”
    That brought nods and smiles.
    “I’ll bet you haven’t had Pisco in different flavors, though, have you?”
    Lynn scann ed the labels on bottles behind him on shelves. Cinnamon and strawberry caught her