that shone to the beat of the music.
“Thank God her thong was showing. They always pay more for undie shots,” Lucky said, putting his camera away. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“No worries.” Mara smiled. Meeting Lucky was the most fun she’d had so far that evening.
“I’m going to do a lap to check if there’s anyone else worthy of being plastered all over the party pages with spinach on their teeth. Do you know if the Perry twins are here? Sugar and Poppy?” he asked.
“Um . . . not sure.” Mara giggled, wondering if the twins would hazard the Hamptons nightlife in the crappy Volvo. Crappy? Apparently the Hamptons really were getting to Mara.
She said a warm good-bye to the prickly paparazzo. But now that their little adventure was over, she didn’t know whether to go or stay. She was still deciding when she felt someone brush by her.
“Hey, you,” Ryan said, bumping her shoulder with his fist lightly.
“Ryan! Hi!” she said, so happy to see a familiar face that she impulsively gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Ryan was suddenly glad it was so dark in there since he was blushing to the roots of his blond hair. “Wow, you look great!” he said, stepping back to take a good look.
“Because for once I’m not covered in baby drool?” Mara teased.
“No, no, I mean, you always—er, look good. I mean, I . . .,” he said, uncharacteristically fumbling for the right words. “So, uh, I thought you said you were staying in tonight,” Ryan finished lamely, trying to change the subject.
“Can’t a girl change her mind?”
“I’m glad she did,” Ryan said, a little more seriously than was necessary. “Anyway, Eliza said you were here. Come on back and meet some of my friends.”
“Sure.”
He took her hand and led her to the far corner of the room, where a bunch of guys were lounging on velvet couches, smoking stogies, their girlfriends perched daintily on their laps.
“Hey, everybody, meet my friend Mara,” Ryan said. “Mara, that’s pretty much everybody.”
His friend! Mara thought, elated at the introduction. He didn’t say meet the au pair! Or meet the girl who’s working for us this summer! His friend!
The tall guy with the shaved head sitting nearest to Mara made as if to kiss her hand. Mara laughed as Ryan swatted his pal’s hand away. “Enough of that,” he said. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked her.
“Sure, why not?”
As they turned to the direction of the bar, Lucky Yap walked by. “Hey! Mr. Perry!” he said, blowing Ryan a kiss.
“What’s going on, Lucky?” Ryan said, laughing. “How’s Frederic?” Like everyone in the Hamptons, Ryan knew Lucky Yap as über-party-photographer Frederic O’Malley’s right-hand man.
“He’s all right. In Cannes for the festival. Leaving me with the B-listers! There’s no one here! I haven’t even seen your sisters all night. Let me get a photo of the two of you instead!” Lucky ordered.
Ryan and Mara looked at each other questioningly, then Ryan put his arm around Mara’s shoulders and they both turned to the camera.
“Perfect! Marvelous! Sexy!” Lucky enthused. Afterward he let them take a peek at the results on his digital viewfinder. Lucky whipped out his notebook. “Ryan Perry and Mara Waters, right?” he said, scribbling their names.
Ryan raised his eyebrows at Mara, impressed that the town’s most social shutterbug already knew her name.
Mara only smiled mysteriously.
somewhere in the sticks (aka hampton bays), jacqui is getting in touch with her feelings
JACQUI VELASCO WAS . . . WHAT WAS THAT WORD that Mara used? Bummed? Yes, bummed. Really, truly bummed.
She should be really, truly, totally, completely happy at being reunited with Luca. In fact, she had spent the last month telling herself how perfectly happy she was, how glad she was that everything was working out just like in her wildest dreams. But that was the problem—Jacqui knew that if she really felt happy, she wouldn’t have to keep reminding herself how happy she was. As the weeks dragged on, miserable seemed like a more accurate description of her feelings. Yes, miserable, Jacqui decided.
Luca had negged on the romantic dinner again. Instead of taking her to the Farmhouse, he’d suggested a “romantic” clambake on the beach. They had driven an hour to a small, rundown restaurant where Luke had bought two soggy oyster po’boys and picked up a six-pack of beer. They weren’t even alone. His friend Leo had met them on the beach.
At least the boys had made a roaring campfire, or else Jacqui