Sun-kissed (The Au Pairs 3)

"This night was about Sydney. Sydney Minx. And you know what's going on out there? What people are talking about?"

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"What?" Eliza asked, still confused.

"You. That's who. Who's the girl from the helicopter? Who's the model who flew down? Who's the girl in the dress? Who's the girl. It's all about you. I had to teach a couple of reporters from the New York Post how to spell your name!"

Eliza almost said, "They know exactly how to spell my name at the Post!" She wisely kept her mouth shut. "C'mon, Paige, cut me some slack," Eliza pleaded. "Talk to Sydney. He listens to you. I mean, I got the dress back, didn't I?"

"You got the dress, but you took the press," Paige replied.

As if on cue, a tall reporter from the East Hampton Star gossip

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column tapped on the side door. "Hey--chopper girl. Can I get a quote?"

Paige rolled her eyes.

"Sure--be with you in a bit." Eliza smiled. When the reporter left, she grabbed Paige's arm. "You can't be serious. You guys can't do this to me. This is my internship for the summer. My parents will freak if they find out!"

Eliza was devastated. She had just found her passion, found that there was more to life than a MasterCard. She was really looking forward to learning more about the fashion industry. How could they take it away from her now?

"You're fired, Eliza. Please remove that dress and vacate the premises immediately."

And just like that, chopper girl went down in flames.

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in celebrity journalism, noncooperation is never a problem

THE PARTY WAS OVER, AND JACQUI AND THE THREE GUYS from the web site had departed to continue the hoopla at the Reynolds castle. Mara caught a ride with them and asked them to drop her off at the Starbucks a few blocks from the harbor. She could grab a double latte to fuel up, and the coffee counter was close enough to the dock that she could walk home.

She was totally screwed. She had no story. Sydney Minx had completely ignored her the whole evening and refused to give her an interview. And she had four pages to fill! Dozens of column inches! The story had already been laid out by the art department; they were just waiting for her text to arrive.

What was she going to do ... ? This time, she was going to get canned for sure. Sam Davis had handed her a plum assignment--but Mara had ended up with egg in her face. It wasn't even as if she were trying to nail an interview with the president, for God's sake. Sydney Minx was a fashion designer! Fashion designers lived for press! Yet somehow she had bungled it again.

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At this rate, Mara decided she should forget about becoming a serious journalist, since she couldn't even hack it as a celebrity reporter.

A few people were idling by the coffee shop, and after Mara collected her double-shot no-fat venti cup, she took a seat by the window, Black Berry in her clammy hand. Better to do it now than later . . .

"Hi, Sam? It's Mara."

"Hey, there." The noise of a squalling infant filled the background.

"I'm so sorry to call so late. . . ."

"Not a worry at all. What's up?" Sam asked, sounding chipper and professional.

"It's just, about the Sydney Minx cover," Mara hedged.

"Uh-huh? Heathcliff, put down the baby, put down baby Kathy right now! Mommy says!" Sam ordered.

"I didn't get--" Mara said hesitantly.

"I said listen to Mommy! Bad Heathcliff! Bad boy!" Sam screeched.