Skinny Dipping (The Au Pairs 2)

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movie-- Casablanca in Space --to a studio. But seven came and went, and the Maybach failed to appear in the driveway. Seven-fifteen, seven-thirty. Eight o'clock. The dinner was supposed to start right now.

Mara looked at her watch. She dialed Garrett's number again, but there was no answer. She felt sort of ridiculous just standing around in her Roland Mouret kimono dress and peep-toe Prada heels, waiting for him to arrive. Finally, she drove herself in the BMW to the party. Maybe she was supposed to meet him there?

The restaurant was airy and light, with a copper bar and all-white bunting hanging from the ceiling. The Reynoldses had rented out the whole restaurant, and Mara noticed several people staring at her strangely as she looked around the room for Garrett.

"Hey, do you know where Garrett is?" Mara asked a girl who was dating one of Garrett's friends.

"He's over there," the girl said. "But, um . . ."

Mara ignored her and walked over to the main table in the middle of the room, where Garrett was sitting with his chair tipped back, laughing uproariously. She walked up to him and rubbed her hand down his arm.

"Er, hi. Sorry I'm late," she whispered, looking for an empty seat at the table. There wasn't one.

Garrett turned around, obviously surprised to see her. "Mara, what are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you. I thought you were going to pick me up," Mara said, wondering why he was looking at her like that.

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He'd told her about the dinner last week and had made her promise she'd be there.

"Excuse us one

second," Garrett said, leading Mara away from the table. She noticed a tall, exotic-looking girl glaring at them.

"Wait a minute--are you here with someone else?" Mara asked.

"You didn't get my message?" he whispered urgently, leading her farther away from the crowd.

"What message?" Mara asked, stepping aside so a waiter could deliver a tray of champagne glasses to a nearby table.

He sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his bangs. "I uh . . . I'm really sorry, Mara. You're a great girl and all, but you know, no hard feelings."

"Excuse me?" she asked, noticing that everyone at the party was settling into their seats and several people were shooting Garrett concerned looks.

"Listen," he said, looking like a guy whose patience was being tested, "I can't be seen with someone like you right now. My dad is getting all this bad press about our house, and if he finds out the girl I'm dating ..." He trailed off.

"What?" Mara asked.

"Oh, Mara. Everyone knows you took the earrings." Garrett smiled. "I think it's awesome, actually. Great job sticking it to Mitzi. You know her firm doesn't have liability insurance, right? Her career is over." He chuckled.

"But I didn't take the earrings. / didn't? Mara said. "And I can't believe you would think that of me."

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"Listen, babe. It doesn't matter what I think. I told you, I don't care if you did take them, but I can't have any bad publicity right now. My dad is going to go ballistic if my name is attached to yours any more this summer. It was bad enough when people chatted about your . . . you know . . . background. But this is worse."

Mara shook her head. She didn't understand what Garrett was saying. What background? What press? What bad publicity? How did he even know about the earrings? Then Mara remembered: This was the Hamptons. Everyone knew everything.

"So you're dumping me?" Mara asked.

"Mara, you're a nice girl, and we had some good times, right?" Garrett said, winking at her. "It was worth it for the Perry factor alone."

Perry factor? Mara opened her mouth to ask what the hell he meant by that, but Garrett was already back at his table, raising his glass in a toast.

To himself, natch.