Crazy Hot (The Au Pairs 4)

the ground under its own weight. Until now, the Reynolds Castle had been the largest and most ostentatious house in the Hamptons, but the Finnemore mega-mansion certainly gave it a run for its money. And Eliza was going to have to call this monstrosity home for the whole summer?

A white-jacketed butler took her bags, and another servant led her to the terrace. Her father was splayed out in a lawn chair, a pitcher of margaritas by his side, and Suzy sat next to him, holding a BlackBerry and jiggling a six-month-old baby in a Bjorn carrier. A portable Sony plasma television was set up in front of her, and on the screen was a view of the stock exchange. The shrieking sounds Eliza had heard on the phone were of traders screeching orders to their runners.

"Hey." Eliza nodded at both of them and then bent to give her father a kiss on the cheek. She'd met Suzy a couple of times before and didn't think of her as a woman so much as a blur-- she was always on the move, with her three constantly ringing cell phones, two hovering assistants, and her trademark mane of frizzy red hair. For the life of her, Eliza couldn't figure out why Suzy didn't just have it straightened. She could certainly afford it.

"This is Cassidy." Suzy smiled, motioning to the baby as she texted furiously with one hand. "I know it's an unusual name for a boy, but I've always loved the name and was worried this might be my last shot to use it!" She turned her attention away from the BlackBerry for a moment to beam down at the baby boy in her

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arms. "And sorry for the chaos--the au pair is supposed to arrive today and of course she's already late."

Eliza took a glance around. What chaos? There were three kids sitting quietly on lounge chairs by the pool, two of them playing chess and one reading. It was downright peaceful--so different from what she'd encountered that first day at the Perrys' when she was their au pair for the summer. She shuddered just thinking about it. Thank God she'd never have to do that again.

Suzy followed Eliza's eyes. She gestured to the two boys hunched over the chess table. "Logan is the regional champ in the under-ten category. We're traveling to D.C. this fall for nationals," she said proudly. The somber-looking seven-year-old wore a pair of round glasses that gave him an owl-like demeanor. "Logan is teaching Wyatt how to play chess," Suzy added. Eliza looked across from Logan to the chubby little five-year-old who sat across from him, his forehead wrinkled in intense concentration. She'd never seen children who sat so perfectly still.

"And that's Jackson with the book. He and Logan are twins, obviously." Jackson was a carbon copy of his brother, down to the owl glasses.

"Obviously," Eliza agreed, trying to keep the shock and awe out of her voice. Jackson was reading The Greatest Story Ever Sold: The Decline and Fall of Truth from 9111 to Katrina. She raised an eyebrow. Whatever happened to comic books?

"The author was on CNN the other day and Jackson insisted on getting his book." Suzy sighed with a wry smile. "It's like that

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with everybody who comes on that channel! I can never get him to watch anything else."

"Oh," Eliza said simply. She didn't even watch CNN now.

"And that's Violet, behind me," Suzy tilted her head backward and Eliza looked past her to see a thin, pale girl seated at a patio table, hunched over her computer. She'd been so quiet, Eliza hadn't even noticed she was there. "She's first in her class at Horace Mann," Suzy whispered, leaning toward Eliza. "But she gets embarrassed when I tell people that." She turned toward her daughter and called out to her. "Violet, honey! Say hi to Eliza!"

Violet peeked over the screen of her laptop. "Oh, hi," she said shyly, not coming out from behind her computer.

"Nice to meet you, Violet," Eliza called out. She couldn't help but mentally compare Suzy's passel of wunderkids to the Perry kids and their many developmental problems.

"Are you the au pair?" Violet looked at Eliza quizzically.

"No." Eliza shook her head. "No, I'm not." And then she smiled. Even if the Finnemores did seem like perfect children, she knew all too well that looks can be awfully deceiving.

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JACQUI DISCOVERS THAT EVEN THE BEST-LAID PLANS OFTEN GO AWRY

JACQUI VELASCO WOKE UP TO THE BRIGHT JUNE SUN

shining through the window of her Upper East Side studio. She took one glance at the purple NYU sticker on the glass and smiled. It was going to be a great day. Every day was a great day ever since she'd gotten accepted into NYU. Finally. Her fifth year at St. Grace had been absolute torture--she'd had to take precal-culus to finish the math requirements and qualify for admission--but it had all been worth it when she received the fat envelope she'd been waiting for since last April. Jacqui threw her arms above her head with a big yawn, gave the sticker a little kiss, and started to get ready.

She was officially in, officially accepted, and ready to begin her freshman year in September. Tuition was expensive, and as a foreign student Jacqui hadn't gotten much financial aid, but thankfully one more summer with the Perrys would take care of her contribution for her first year. She pulled on one of her usual kid-friendly-but-still-New-York-savvy outfits--comfortable but

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skintight J Brand skinny jeans with a long cotton tunic (machine washable for spit-up stains), and a pair of French Sole ballet flats--and tied her long, ebony locks back into a practical pony-tail.

Jacqui headed out the door and toward the Perrys' town house, just a short walk away. The family was leaving for the Hamptons the next day, and Jacqui had to make sure all the kids were packed and ready to go. There were only three of them this time--the girls, thirteen-year-old Madison and nine-year-old Zoe, were spending the summer at an Australian tennis camp,

which left only William, Cody, and new baby Eloise.

"Hey, everybody! I'm here!" she called as she closed the Perrys' town house door behind her. But when she made her way into the living room, she was met with not the usual "everybody" but instead a very odd assortment of people.

Ten fat, matronly women, to be exact. All of them with ruddy, chubby cheeks and sweet cherubic smiles. Add flat hats, carpetbags, and black umbrellas, and you would have ten Mary Poppinses.