Crazy Hot

  “Oh, nothing,” Ryan mumbled as he set up his shot again.

  “You know, rules are made to be fixed. The early bird releases the worm. Idle hands are the devil’s workplace.” Mara grinned at Ryan from across the course. Back when they were dating, the two of them would try to come up with as many subverted clichés as possible.

  Ryan looked up from his club and grinned back. “The heart despises what it despises.”

  “Ah, but I don’t think ‘despises’ is the opposite of ‘wants,’ really,” Mara pointed out, leaning jauntily on her club. “Good try, though. Half a point for effort!”

  “I don’t get it.” Tinker frowned, taking a long slug from her plastic cup of Bud Light, the only drink the golf course offered. The red Solo cup looked hilariously mismatched with her chic outfit.

  David looked back and forth between Ryan and Mara, shaking his head with a sigh. He yawned.

  “We keeping you up, man?” Ryan teased. He tapped the golf ball lightly but didn’t hit it.

  “No, but if you don’t take the shot anytime soon, I may just fall asleep standing up,” David ribbed him back, holding his club over his head as he stretched his arms.

  Mara looked back and forth between them. Boys could be so competitive. Though she couldn’t help but feel that David’s jabs were less good-natured than Ryan’s had been. “David, I forgot to tell you—Ryan hates to lose,” Mara sang out teasingly, trying to infuse some estrogen into their testosterone standoff. “And he hates even more to be distracted,” she added, jutting her hip out the slightest bit as she leaned against her club, a gesture she knew he used to always find seductive. She couldn’t help herself.

  Ryan, as if on cue, flubbed the shot and then cursed impressively. He jogged after the ball and hit it vigorously once it had come to a stop, finally whacking it through the big bad wolf’s head. “Three strokes,” he said definitively to David.

  Tinker came to stand beside David, looking over his shoulder at the scorecard. “Don’t worry, babe,” she called to Ryan. “We’re only losing by, um—eleven. I suck! I’m so sorry.”

  “You guys do suck,” Mara taunted, sticking out her tongue at Ryan. It was so refreshing to be actually good at a sport—all those years spent at Chuck E. Cheese were finally paying off. Ryan and Tinker, who’d grown up with parents who didn’t believe in cheap amusement parks, were completely hopeless at mini-golf.

  They moved onto the next hole, which featured a series of blue ramps painted to look like rivers. David set up his shot and then hit the ball briskly. It hit the side of the ramp with a clang and then went spiraling off the course, where it bounced out onto the concrete and started rolling away.

  “Out of bounds, automatic forfeit of the course,” Ryan cried gleefully, waving his cup of beer in the air.

  “What? No way,” David argued, pushing his glasses up on his nose and grabbing his ball from outside the course.

  “Those are the rules, dude.” Ryan shrugged, looking smug.

  David just set his ball on the tee again and took another shot. The ball careened up the ramp, rolling swiftly down the other side and making a beeline for the hole, where it settled with a satisfying plop. “Hole in one!” he cheered, pumping his fist triumphantly into the air.

  “It doesn’t count. You forfeited, remember?” Ryan reminded him. His face was a bit red, probably from all the beer.

  Mara was laughing at something Tinker was saying when she noticed the boys were facing each other, neither of them smiling. Seriously, why couldn’t they just relax?

  “Dudes, it’s just a game,” Tinker said cheerfully. “Mara, it’s your turn.”

  Mara looked from her current boyfriend to her ex, confused at how the pleasant evening had suddenly turned frosty. She could swear it looked like they wanted to punch each other but were being too polite to let it show.

  “C’mon, guys,” she said, trying to defuse the situation. “It doesn’t really matter who wins, does it?”

  “Winner takes nothing,” Ryan replied smoothly, easing back into his and Mara’s own private in-joke. Tinker looked uncomfortable and giggled nervously.

  “Whatever.” David shrugged. “I’m going to go get another beer.”

  “All’s fair in hate and war,” Mara couldn’t resist replying to Ryan, setting up her shot and slicing expertly, sending the ball flying through the air and landing perfectly in the clown’s mouth.

  jacqui models fall’s latest

  accessory: baby puke

  “LOGAN—I MEAN JACKSON—I MEAN WYATT—DONT TOUCH that!” Jacqui begged as Wyatt reached curiously for a steaming brown lump on the ground that could only be horse poo. She had taken the kids to a nearby farm with a petting zoo, which featured pony rides, tractor pulls, and a varied menagerie. She grabbed the little boy’s hand and brought him over to the shady spot where she’d been tending to baby Cassidy, who seemed none too happy to be experiencing the great outdoors.

  Jacqui had offered to take the kids for the day so Mara could get in some alone time with David. She’d felt guilty about fobbing the kids off on Mara all summer so she could play supermodel, and she wanted to make it up to her. Although at this particular moment, she wished she hadn’t been so generous.

  She’d forgotten Cassidy was allergic to cats, so the baby’s nose was running and dripping all over everything. She didn’t know that Violet was scared of horses. The twins thought a “farm zoo” was beneath their intelligence and had boycotted the event by taking seats under a shady tree and refusing to budge. Only Wyatt threw himself into the activity with gusto and had already fallen into a bale of hay, been chased by a pig, and been bitten by an angry duck.

  She wiped Cassidy’s nose with a baby wipe and tried to manage her frustration just as the now-familiar flash of a camera momentarily blinded her.

  “Hold it, just like that…. Marvelous,” Marcus directed.

  On top of everything, the afternoon was also supposed to be a fashion shoot for Vogue. The editors had flipped when they heard Jacqui was also an au pair—they declared that children were the hottest accessory of the season, what with all the big stars making child care a fashionable event, and Marcus was quickly dispatched to take some quick shots of Jacqui tending to her young charges.

  He had promised that it would be fun and that he would help with the “rug rats,” as he playfully called them, but so far all he’d done was jump in her face with his camera and get in her way.

  “Don’t mind me, just go on with what you’re doing …,” he said cheerfully.

  Easy for him to say. She jiggled Cassidy on her shoulder, trying to soothe him. The baby suddenly vomited all over her new cross-back sundress. It was the only sample in existence. How exactly was she going to make this look glamorous?

  “Ick,” Marcus said, making a face. “You’re going to have to change. Puke is not fall’s new color,” he joked.

  Jacqui put the baby back in his car seat and scrubbed at the stain with a baby wipe, hoping Cassidy would be good. She hadn’t expected Marcus to be hands-on with the kids, but she wasn’t prepared for utter revulsion either. She briefly remembered how attentive and sweet Marcus had been with the kids on the day they’d met. Was that all an act, part of the courtship process? And if that was an act, what else was? Jacqui shook off the thought as she wiped baby Cassidy’s pink cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t throw up again—she was almost out of wipes.

  Marcus studied the photos in the small viewing screen of his camera. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time cleaning up spittle,” he said. “You should be on the runway in Milan, not running a day-care center.”

  “I like working with kids,” Jacqui said defensively as she hunted down juice boxes in her backpack for the kids’ midafternoon snack.

  “That’s not the point, love,” Marcus said, coming over to squeeze her waist and give her a kiss on the cheek. “You’re better than this,” he added in a whisper as Jackson, Logan, and Violet approached from their perch under the shady tree to parta
ke of the snack.

  Jacqui smiled to hide her annoyance. Who was he to tell her what to do with her life? She’d done a damn good job taking care of those Perry kids for three years, although no one ever gave her any credit for it. Madison was now a well-balanced teen at a normal weight, William was far from the hyperactive little boy he used to be, Zoë had finally learned to read, and Cody was toilet trained. And that was a serious feat.

  “C’mon, everyone, how about we go on a hayride?” she proposed as she passed out the juice boxes, trying to muster up enthusiasm. She was met by five blank faces.

  “A hayride?” Logan wrinkled his nose. “You mean an hour spent sitting on itchy bales of hay while driving around a brown, muddy field?”

  Looking around at the children’s unhappy faces, Jacqui was unsure what to do. The more trouble she had with the Finnemores, the more she began to doubt herself and her abilities. Maybe her work with the Perrys had just been a fluke?

  “If it’s all right with you, babe, I’m taking off. I’ll meet you later,” Marcus said, stowing away his camera and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving her to deal with five grumpy children on her own.

  Maybe Marcus is right, Jacqui thought as she proceeded to practically drag the children over to the area where eager kids were boarding large red trucks filled with hay. Covered in baby drool, with a sulky pre-teen, two bored seven-year-olds, and a five-yearold who wouldn’t sit still, she wasn’t exactly super-nanny.

  “Where’s Mara?” Jackson asked plaintively, not for the first time that day.

  “She’ll be back tomorrow,” Jacqui promised, feeling a little hurt.

  “I want her noooowwww!!!” he suddenly screamed.

  Maybe it was indeed time to throw in the burp cloth and put on the stilettos.

  david plays dunne

  to mara’s didion

  THE AUGUST SUN FELT WARM AND PRICKLY ON HER skin and Mara turned onto her stomach lazily, feeling genuinely relaxed for the first time in ages. “You’re slacking on lotion duties,” she teasingly told David, pushing the St. Barth’s tanning oil she’d found in the bathroom toward him.

  She put her head in her hands and glanced out toward the water. From their vantage point, she could keep an eye on the kids playing by the shore. Violet was completely engrossed in the latest issue of the New Yorker. Logan and Jackson were fascinatedly using a metal detector. Wyatt was building sand castles. Cassidy was dozing in his stroller underneath the Bugaboo sunshade. The children were all as they should be—occupied.

  When Mara woke up for work that day, Jacqui was nowhere to be found—as usual. It was a whole week since she’d taken the kids to the farm, and she had been missing from the mansion since then. Apparently, now that she was officially a model for Vogue, Jacqui wasn’t going to bother to show up for work anymore. Taking care of five children entirely on her own was becoming exhausting, so Mara was thankful when David called and proposed a day at the beach. There were only two weeks of summer left, and she wanted to squeeze at least a little fun out of them.

  David inched toward her and began rubbing the buttery lotion into her shoulders, giving her a little massage as he did. Mara sighed. It was heavenly having him back in town. He was amazing with the kids. He was the one who’d brought the metal detector for Jackson and Logan, he’d shown Wyatt how to build a sand castle, and he’d gotten the baby to say his first word, “Dah.” He’d even had a heart-to-heart with Violet, whom he’d confided in that he’d been a gangly smart kid in high school. Violet seemed really happy to know that introverted kids could turn out cool, and she’d even whispered to Mara that David was “really cute.”

  Mara sighed in pleasure as his strong hands worked their way down her back, tugging playfully at her bikini strings.

  “So … I had a chance to look up your blog the other day,” David said, removing one hand from her back to dab a little sunblock on his nose.

  “And?” Mara asked, holding her breath. She’d told him about the blog and how she was thinking of maybe turning it into some kind of novel one day. But that was a week ago and he hadn’t mentioned it, so Mara had assumed he hated it or thought it was trivial.

  “It’s hilarious. I particularly enjoyed all the death wishes for your slacker boyfriend ‘D.,’” he added with a grin.

  “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 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 McInerney, 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.

  “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….

  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 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.

  Jacqui settled down in the lounge chair, a little nervous to be left alone with all the models.