Sun-kissed (The Au Pairs 3)

doubts about her new position

A LITTLE AFTER TWO IN THE MORNING, MARA CREPT BACK

onboard the Catalina. She slowly unlocked the cabin door and softly tiptoed inside the dark stateroom. Moonlight spilled through the porthole, and Mara could see Ryan's long form huddled underneath the white goose-down comforter.

She eased out of her heels, pulling down the straps, and massaged the balls of her feet. Jill had invited them over to her Bridgehampton rental, and after a couple of vodka shots and a drunken game of "Celebrity" (the star herself winning on her Nicole Richie impersonation alone), they'd finally called it an evening.

Mara filed the story of Jill's annulment and all the details of the day-care benefit party from her BlackBerry, hoping against hope that the story would make it into the magazine's next issue. Lucky had assured her the piece was fine, but she wasn't so sure. What if her boss didn't like any of the jokes about the Walkers? Or the remark about how in the current celebrity math, two

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assistants of the famous now equaled one C-list star? For example, CaCee Cobb (Jessica Simpson's personal assistant and best friend) + Trace Ayala (Justin Timberlake's personal assistant and best friend) = Brooke Burke.

Her feet made a squishy noise on the thick carpet, and she locked herself in the bathroom to wash her face, shower, and change. She slipped into one of Ryan's old T-shirts, feeling the softness of the cotton against her skin.

She slid underneath the covers and quietly snuggled into his chest, angling her body so that her arms ducked underneath his armpits and held him close while her legs curved under his legs.

"Mmmmppf," Ryan murmured, patting her arm absentmind-edly. He sighed.

"Ry, are you awake? Ryan?" she whispered. "I think they made a big mistake sending me to cover the party. I don't know anything about writing a society column. I'm not even in society."

She was hopped up from the vodka and anxious about her story. If only he would wake up so she could talk to him about it. She could really use his support right now.

"Mmmppff. . . huh?" Ryan said sleepily. "Don't worry about it. Everything'll be fine," he mumbled.

Mara wrung her hands. What if her boss totally hated her copy? She'd be stuck with penning nothing but photo captions all summer. L-R, Ketchup Heir, Trophy Wife, Prominent Plastic Surgeon . . .

"Ryan, are you listening? Honey, I'm so nervous," she said.

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Ryan snored loudly in response. He turned over to his other side and hugged his pillow, leaving Mara feeling abandoned on the other side of the king-size bed.

Oh, well ... so much for that. Standing in heels for three hours was an exercise in torture anyway, so she could use the rest. She gave Ryan one final kiss on the cheek and turned away from him to face the wall, hugging the covers to her chest.

They slept like that, back to back, their bodies scarcely touching. The bed rocked softly as the boat bobbed up and down in the water, and when Mara closed her eyes, she dreamed she was floating alone through space.

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there's nothing like a job

well done to make a girl feel good

THAT WAS THE LAST OF IT.ELIZA HELD THE BOX FLAPS

together while the other intern taped them shut. It was officially six o'clock in the morning, and the entire staff had been working all through the night. Eliza felt slightly delirious, but she was exultant. The final choices for the show turned out incredibly-- she'd placed over-the-top jewelry on all the models, played with different textures and patterns, and succeeded in creating a super-glamorous spectacle. Sydney couldn't have been more pleased nor Paige more annoyed.

Eliza was on cloud nine. She'd never worked so hard and felt so good in her life! The collection was amazing--even Paige had grudgingly remarked on how gorgeous everything looked. She was so proud of herself. This was even better than scoring a 5 on all of her AP tests.

They'd packed each outfit in acid-free tissue and hung them inside plastic bags in a portable closet that was going in the truck to the Hamptons. The messengers were arriving in an hour, and

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the clothes would be in the store by the next morning--the day of the party.

Eliza planned to catch a few hours' sleep and then drive out to the Hamptons later that afternoon. She nodded good-bye to the rest of the team and went home for a well-deserved shower.

In an uncharacteristic fit of generosity, Sydney had allowed everyone to take the company car service home, and a fleet of black Lincoln town cars were parked in front of the building. Eliza directed hers up to Park Avenue.