Crazy Hot (The Au Pairs 4)

"Oops. I forgot. I had to vent, you know," she said, pulling herself up on her elbows and looking at him underneath the brim of her straw hat. "But what'd you think?"

"I told you, I thought it was really funny. You have a great voice--very appealing to women, I think. Very chatty," he added, capping the suntan oil. He regarded her thoughtfully. "I think you have something there. I would concentrate a little more on the social aspect--do it as a comedy of manners. An upstairs/downstairs kind of thing. You know, like Remains of the Day but for teens."

"Huh." Mara nodded, gratified that he took her work so seriously. Although wasn't Remains of the Day a bit highbrow for what she was doing? But then, David always was a literary snob. He once gagged when he found Stephen King in her book collection.

"Anyway, I want to show it to my mom," he said, putting on the clip-on shades for his eyeglasses and leaning back on the blanket.

"Your mom?" Mara breathed.

"I can't guarantee anything--but I think she should meet you. Mom's always looking for new clients. And I get points too if it all works out," he added with a smile.

"You really think your mom would rep me?" Mara asked in disbelief.

"Sure, why not?" David's tone was casual, as if the opportunity to talk to New York's most fearsome literary agent happened every day in a writer's career. He lay all the way down on the

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blanket, grabbing his copy of Crime and Punishment --which he was reading for the fourth time--and putting it on top of his face to block the sun. "She's giving a dinner party at the end of the month at Daniel, in a private room, and I want you to come. If you ever wanted to meet Salman Rushdie and Jay Mclnerney, now's the time."

She felt her heart thump in her chest. David was very protective of his mom. Other kids at Columbia were always slipping him their manuscripts, asking if he would show it to his mother, and he always just tossed them into the trash.

"What day was that again?"

"August 28."

Mara grabbed her BlackBerry from her purse--which Suzy had provided so that she could keep track of all the kids' schedules--and checked her calendar. That was the same night as Eliza's Vogue bash. Shit. Eliza had been so excited when she told her about it, and she'd be heartbroken if Mara didn't go. But she couldn't say no to dinner with the Prestons and their literary circle--this could be her big break. Writers would rather die than miss meeting Pinky Preston, let alone be invited to dinner. Mara knew David was going out on a limb for her, so the night meant a lot for them both.

"Thank you," Mara said, removing the book from his face so she could kiss him on the cheek.

David nuzzled Mara's forehead, and soon they were kissing, rolling from their blanket onto the damp sand.

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"Oops," Mara said, pulling away, a smile on her face. "The kids."

They looked up to see all the Finnemore kids watching them, horrified looks on their faces. Mara had a feeling this wasn't exactly what Suzy meant when she'd told Mara the kids needed exposure to "ample stimulation" this summer. . . .

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JACQUI MEETS SOME MODEL CITIZENS

"THIS WAY, LOVE-THE POOL IS OUT BACK." MARCUS TOOK

Jacqui's hand and led her through the spacious two-story Georgian house to the Olympic-size infinity pool in the back, where a party was in full swing. Tall, beautiful girls were tossing a beach ball lazily over a volleyball net, sunning on the custom-made rocks, and drinking mojitos out of frosted glasses. There was a sprinkling of moneyed moguls, A-list actors, and hip-hop stars mixing with the girls. It was a good-looking and very European crowd, and Jacqui felt right at home overhearing the babble of many different languages.

When Marcus had suggested they stop by the Chrysler Model house in Southampton for the weekly Sunday afternoon pool party, Jacqui had jumped at the chance to check out the outfit that was so hot to sign her up. Chrysler Models was one of the biggest and most prestigious modeling agencies in New York, and they'd been actively courting Jacqui all summer long. Chrysler girls had a solid reputation in New York as

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professionals instead of party girls, so Jacqui was curious to see what all the fuss was about.

"Come meet some friends of mine," Marcus said, bringing Jacqui to where a group of models were splayed out on beach chairs facing the pool, their bodies tanned and lean. "This is Jacarei," he said to the group at large, presenting her to them as if it were her first day in kindergarten. "Be nice to her, ladies, or by next year she'll have all your jobs," he added naughtily.

Jacqui shrugged apologetically but was pleasantly surprised to find that the models, instead of glaring at her, were smiling indulgently at Marcus.

"Don't worry, honey, we're used to old Marcus here," a stunning redhead with a pixie haircut and an Eastern European accent consoled, inviting Jacqui to sit by her on an empty lounge chair. "I'm Katrinka. That's Fiona, and next to her is Sam."

Marcus laughed, perching on the arm of a lounge chair and grinning wickedly at all the girls. "Jacarei's the star of our new Vogue spread. We're doing twenty pages," he added, throwing down the gauntlet. He looked around the party and jumped up from his seat. "I'll be right back; I just want to say hello to someone," he told Jacqui, squeezing her arm before loping off to greet a friend.