"Right," Mara said, scrolling down the page and finding a blinking envelope icon on the screen. She tapped it open.
"Oh no!"
"What's wrong?" Ryan asked, climbing back into bed and kicking the FedEx box to the side. He knelt above Mara and nuzzled her neck. "Whatever it is, it can't be that important."
"Shit! I'm so dead!" she gasped as she scrolled down the screen. She looked at her watch and cursed again. "It's eleven-thirty!"
"Why? What's going on?"
"Ryan--can you please--" Mara said, brushing away his hand and turning her head from his kisses. "It's my boss!" she wailed.
45
"She's the only one who knows the boat address. Anyway, there's a big benefit party at Cain tonight for some day-care center, and their society columnist is stuck at some royal wedding in Saint-Tropez." Mara swallowed hard. "She wants me to be there . . . and write a whole column about it!"
Ryan sighed loudly against Mara's shoulder. "So?" he asked. "What's the big deal? You're supposed to write for them, aren't you?
Mara blew out her bangs. "Not really. She said there was a chance I could do some writing--but mostly captions. Not a real article. You don't understand--I've never written anything like this before! The biggest event I've ever written about was the musical production of Mary Poppins at our high school! And she wants a column--with quotes from celebrities. How do I even do that?" Mara was terrified at the thought of actually sticking a tape recorder under a famous person's chin. Did she even own a tape recorder?
"Easy. You just go up and ask a question," Ryan replied. "It's not a big deal. I see reporters do it all the time. Besides, you've been to, like, a million parties in the Hamptons. It's all the same thing every year."
Mara freed herself from his arms. She wrapped her body in a bedsheet and ran out to the deck to fetch her luggage.
"You're leaving?" he asked incredulously. "But we just got here!"
"I have to," she pleaded, returning to the cabin with a suitcase
46
and a garment bag. "The party started at ten! I'm already so late! Lucky was supposed to meet me there an hour ago!" She unzipped the bag and began rooting in it for something to wear.
"Relax. Nothing ever happens before midnight," he said. He remained silent as she fastened her push-up bra back on and wiggled into a tight-fitting Hollywould dress with a sexy cutout front studded with turquoise beads.
"Zip me up?"
Ryan sighed and propped himself up on his knees. Mara turned her back to him and he carefully zipped up the dress.
She turned around to smooth out the front panels. "Do I look okay?"
"You looked better before." He smirked and switched on the sixty-inch flat-screen television.
"Why don't you come with me?" Mara asked, her face lighting up with the idea. She felt so bad to be leaving him in the middle of the night. She sat on the side of the bed to put on a pair of patent leather Pierre Hardy slingbacks, sneaking a glance in his direction. "It'll be fun," she wheedled.
"Nah," Ryan said, falling against the pillows. "I'm beat--I had to drive down from New Hampshire and then drive out here. You go. Seriously. I don't mind."
"C'mon, we'll dance a little, drink a few margaritas ..." she said seductively, hooking the straps around her heels.
"Hypnotic margaritas?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Your favorite."
47
"Mmm . . ." He looked like he was about to leave the bed and put on some clothes but at the last second fell back against the pillows again. "I'm so beat, I don't think I can move. I really need to crash tonight."
"I just want us to be together for our first night," Mara pouted.
"I know, babe," Ryan said, leaning forward and putting an arm around her neck so that he pulled her back on the bed. He slipped a hand up her skirt and pulled teasingly down on her underwear. "We can be."