Paradise Lost (Private 9)

She quickly texted back, her fingers flying over the touch screen.

"What are you writing back? "

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"That he can do whatever he wants. I'm not his keeper." She finished her text and dropped her phone back in her pocket.

"Noelle--," I began.

"Reed," she said firmly. "We are not talking about this anymore."

"But I have to ask you something," I said, clutching the poker tabletop to my chest.

She clucked her tongue impatiently. "What?"

"If you're still mad . .. why am I here?"

Noelle thought about it a moment, then smirked. "Let's just say you're lucky I don't have to kiss you."

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CHAPTER 4 THE OFFICIAL KICKOFF

"What do you think? " Noelle asked as we stepped out onto the Spanish-tile patio at the rear of the Ryan family estate. The backyard fronted a cliff overlooking the ocean, and the water was so crystal clear I could see a school of tiny fish swimming beneath the surface. The sun shone down on the glistening infinity pool as palm trees swayed in the breeze. Gorgeous tropical flowers in bright pinks, oranges, and purples burst from flower boxes and vases everywhere. A steel drum band played a jaunty tune as waiters circulated with yummy-smelling barbecue and frothy drinks. I had shed my sweater, exposing my wrinkled T-shirt underneath, and I was still way too hot. But I couldn't have cared less.

Every stressful Dash- and Josh-related thought I'd had on the plane melted away like sorbet in the sun. One deep breath of this laid-back island atmosphere and Carefree Reed was in the house.

"I can't believe we're still on the same planet," I replied, thinking of the slush and snow back in Connecticut.

"Aw. It's so nice to see the world through the eyes of a novice

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traveler," Noelle said, slinging her arm around me. "Come on. Let's get some food. I'm famished."

Tiffany had broken away to find her dad, who already was there some where. Mr. and Mrs. Lange were standing just across the patio. Mrs. Lange had, in fact, met us at the plane, but after the briefest of hellos, she had spent the entire limo ride talking on her cell, arranging details for some fund-raiser she was throwing the first Sunday of the New Year. Now she and her husband were chatting with Amberly, her prepped-out parents, and her crunchily handsome brother, Austin, who had just arrived. I had never met Mr. Carmichael, and I couldn't help but stare at him. This man--this tall, hard-bodied, towheaded, merry-eyed man-had had an affair with Cheyenne Martin a few weeks before her death. And he hadn't even attended her funeral. Did Amberly know? Did her mother know? And more important... gross.

"So, where's this Upton guy?" I asked, forcing myself to look away from Mr. Carmichael.

Noelle smirked. "Let's see if you can pick him out yourself."

"Upton Game, the solitaire version?" I joked. Taking her up on the challenge, I scanned the party goers. If I were the hottest guy ever to walk the earth, where would I be?

"Noelle! Reed!"

I recognized the squeal before I had a chance to spot where it was coming from. Suddenly Kiran's slim arm was wrapped awkwardly around my neck. Her drink spilled, splashing on my shoes, but she kept bouncing up and down as she attempted to hug Noelle and me at the same time.

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"Omigod! It's so good to see you guys!" Kiran cried. "It totally sucks that you had to miss my birthday party, but I'm so glad you're okay!"

Parrying was always priority number one with Kiran. Higher on the list than attempted murder. She pulled back and placed her now empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

"Let me look at you," she said, holding both my wrists. "What are you wearing? You need to get out of those New England rags and get into the islands!"

Kiran certainly had done just that. She wore nothing but a red bikini top, a tiny red bikini bottom, and a red-and-white sarong that exposed her entire leg. Her heels were at least four inches high, and the white beads around her neck were the size of grapes. Her long dark hair was swept up in a tight bun, and huge D&G sunglasses practically covered her face.

I smiled as she plucked a piece of lint from my T-shirt. Even with the fashion critique, it was good to see her.