Beach Lane - By Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,18

he spotted Eliza. “Liza!”

“Kitty cat!” she shrieked, giving him a two-cheek air kiss as if they hadn’t just seen each other a few hours before.

“Who’s your friend?” Kit asked, wagging his eyebrows at Jacqui.

“Jacqui Velasco. She’s, uh, an exchange student . . . living with my uncle’s family,” Eliza said before Jacqui could open her mouth. She gave Jacqui a mute plea to play along.

“Sí.” Jacqui shrugged. What was that all about?

“Cool,” Kit said. “What are you studying?”

“Design,” Jacqui said.

“English,” Eliza replied.

They looked at each other. Eliza laughed nervously. “English design, right, Jac?”

“Whatever,” Jacqui conceded. She was too busy scanning the room for a sign of her beloved to deal with Eliza right now. But she was polite enough to smile at Kit, who beamed at her.

“About time you got here!” Kit’s girlfriend, Taylor, said to Eliza as she squeezed herself between her man and the hot South American girl.

“You’re back!” Lindsay, another friend, crowed, coming to join them.

“My girls!” Eliza said, triumphant.

So many people were coming up to hug and kiss her she felt like homecoming queen. Except that she’d never be caught dead at something as lame as a high school dance. This was homecoming Eliza style: frozen margaritas, flowing bottles of Cliquot, hot guys, good shoes, even better cars parked outside.

“Sweetie, you look fantastic!” Taylor said in an admiring and slightly jealous tone.

“You must be starving yourself!” said Lindsay, the master of the left-handed compliment.

“Is Charlie here?” Eliza asked, a little too eagerly.

“Not yet. Why?” Lindsay asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought it would be nice to see him, for old times’ sake.” Eliza shrugged.

Lindsay and Taylor exchanged a knowing look.

“Well, look who’s here,” purred a voice from behind the champagne bucket. A sloe-eyed blonde with a vixenish pout appraised them coolly. She was wearing a pink beret, aviator sunglasses, and a tight baby T-shirt that showed off a completely flat midriff.

“Sugar!” Eliza said, bending down to say hello.

“Careful—I just had it blow-dried,” Sugar Perry said, turning away before Eliza could get any closer.

“How are you?” Eliza asked, sliding into the seat next to her.

Sugar was the most popular girl at Eliza’s old prep school. At least, she was now that Eliza had left.

“I’m all right,” Sugar drawled, taking a cigarette from Eliza’s pack and tapping it on her hand. “I’m so over this scene.”

“I know, it’s so boring. The same every year.” Eliza knew this was the right thing to say in the Hamptons, even though the truth was, she was thrilled to be back.

“You’re so lucky your parents sent you to boarding school.” Sugar sighed. “If only I could get away from mine.”

“It’s never going to happen,” added a similarly hoarse voice. Eliza looked up to see Sugar’s identical twin, Poppy, looming over them.

“Eliza, you’re back,” Poppy said flatly. She had the same long platinum Donatella-Versace-like locks as her sister, the same seductive languor, but where Sugar had the makings of a porn star in a debutante body, Poppy, who was taller and two minutes younger, projected a more innocent air. Sugar was sexy; Poppy was just cute.

Finding the banquette fully crowded, Poppy parked herself on Eliza’s lap without a second thought. Eliza didn’t have the nerve to complain. She was too excited not to have to answer any difficult questions. Taylor and Lindsay receded to the background, pretending not to be bothered that Eliza had replaced them for the twins without a second thought.

Meanwhile, after downing two quick flutes of champagne and making chitchat with some of Eliza’s friends, Jacqui scanned the room again. These people were nice enough, and yes, she could tell they were rich, but after meeting Luca, Jacqui had started caring less about those things. Before him she probably would have made her way straight over to the handsome Almost Forty who was staring at her from across the room—Jacqui knew the benefits of seeing an older man (hello, expense account)—but Luca had changed everything. For once she had found a guy who really liked her for who she was, not what she looked like.

Jacqui looked around, trying to look through the older man still staring her down. I can see your wedding ring, she thought. And then a flash of familiar stripes made her sit up a little straighter. Was it? No way . . . there was no way. But it was worth a shot. She stood up, pulling her underwear-completely-optional-low-rider jeans up with her, and she walked off to follow the lanky guy wearing a very