“So is it frat party time?” Mariah asked.
Rashad checked his watch. “It’s barely nine,” he said. “I doubt those guys have even gone out to buy the beer yet. How about we give you a tour of campus first?”
“Sounds good,” Tommi agreed, smiling up at him. During dinner, she’d discovered that Cousin Jon’s housemate had more than good looks going for him. That engineering major was no joke—he was really smart, without being a total geek. His dad was some kind of big-time military officer and he’d lived all over the world, from Amsterdam to Hong Kong. He’d even learned to ride during a stint in Portugal, though his real love was sailing.
They all wandered along Locust Walk, the main pedestrian drag through campus. The guys pointed out various landmarks—the library, a big statue of Ben Franklin, various historic buildings—though Tommi didn’t pay much attention to the details. She was just enjoying the warm night air and the relaxed but buzzy vibe. It was pretty obvious that the semester hadn’t started yet, but there were still plenty of people around. Some were camped out on the grass, others were just wandering around like Tommi and her friends. It was way different from New York, but still cool.
As they were checking out a bulletin board with a bunch of campus events and stuff pinned to it, Tommi’s phone buzzed. She fished it out of her purse. It was a text from Alex:
hope you’re having a good time! text me when u get back and maybe we can get together.
“Who’s that?” Court leaned closer with an impish smile, shooting a quick look at Rashad to make sure he wasn’t close enough to hear. “Maybe your other boyfriend checking up on you?”
“Shut up.” Tommi tucked the phone away without responding to the text. She was surprised Court had even noticed her little flirtation with Rashad, given her much more extreme and obvious one with Cousin Jon. “It’s nothing.”
“Yeah, right.” Court smirked, then hurried forward to grab Jon by the arm and giggle at whatever he was saying. Tommi smiled and shook her head. The girl was shameless.
Then Rashad turned and crooked a finger at her. “Hey, keep up, Tommi,” he said. “We don’t want to lose you.”
“Coming.” She hurried to catch up as the others straggled off down the Walk, trying not to think about Alex. This weekend, tonight, didn’t have anything to do with him. She and Rashad were just hanging out. Being friendly. No biggie.
By the time they reached the other end of campus, it was a little after ten. “Guess we might as well head over,” Jon said, checking the time. “Long as you girls don’t mind being unfashionably early, anyway.”
“What the hell, we have no pride.” Abby grinned. “Right, ladies?”
“Speak for yourself,” Mariah retorted. “But yeah, let’s get this party started already. I feel a need to meet some hot college guys, stat.”
Loud dance music was pouring out the windows of the fraternity house, but when Tommi and the others entered, there were just a few guys standing around talking and chugging something out of plastic cups. One of the guys glanced up.
“Fresh meat!” he exclaimed with a grin.
Another guy hurried forward. “Welcome, ladies,” he said with a goofy little bow. “Come on in and make yourselves at home. Drinks are in there.”
He pointed into the next room. All the furniture had been pushed back against the walls, and the music was throbbing out of a large set of speakers perched on the window-sills.
“What are we waiting for?” Mariah said. She led the way into the room, shimmying her hips to the music. Tommi noticed several of the guys hanging out in there watching her.
Abby saw them, too. “Looks like Mariah won’t have any trouble meeting hot frat guys,” she commented to Tommi.
Tommi grinned. “Yeah.”
Before she could say anything else, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw a guy grinning at her. He was tall and clean-cut, with adorable brown curls and nice arms.
“Hi, I’m Chuck,” he said. “Wanna dance?”
Tommi hesitated, feeling another brief flash of guilt at the thought of Alex back in New York. But again, she shook it off. The guy was asking her to dance, not to go to the prom or something.
“Sure,” she said. “I’m Tommi. Let’s dance.”
The after-party was a swanky affair with tons of celebrities, a live jazz band, and the longest buffet table Zara had ever seen. She glanced around, sizing up the male members of the crowd. She ignored the stars of the film and most of the other well-known actors, directors, and other Hollywood types. Way too old. Plus most of them were friends with her parents.
But there were plenty of hot guys there within an acceptable age range, too. Minor celebs. A sports star or two. Whatever you called the male version of socialite kids.
But she skimmed over all of them, looking for Mr. Leather Jacket. Had he come to the after-party?
She started circulating, nodding to people she knew but being careful to avoid getting pulled in to small talk. The room was growing more crowded all the time; she couldn’t even see Gina anymore, and she was usually hard to miss. It was going to be tough to find one guy in all this …
Then she saw a familiar shaggy dark head over by the buffet table. She smiled, quickly adjusting the neckline of her dress and wetting her lips before striding over.
“Hey,” she said.
He turned toward her. The leather jacket was gone, revealing broad, somewhat beefy shoulders encased in a silky button-down shirt.
“Oh,” he said, a slow smile forming. “Hey. What’s up?”
Zara poked one finger into his chest. It hit immediate resistance, indicating some serious muscles under that shirt. Nice.
“First things first,” she said, not looking away from him as a waitress slid an empty plate into her hand. “What’s your name?”
He chuckled. “Marcus. Sorry, didn’t realize I didn’t tell you before.”
“S’all right.” Zara glanced down at the table and snagged a smoked salmon canapé, popping it into her mouth and then adding a couple more to her plate. “So what’s your deal, Marcus?”
“My deal? As in, my life story?” He shrugged. “It’s boring. But in a nutshell, I’m pretty new to New York. Moved up here after I graduated. Grew up in Texas.”
“Wait, you graduated from college already?” Zara said. “I thought you said you’re only twenty.”
“I am. Guess I must be a genius, huh?” He leaned past her to help himself to some olives. She was tempted to reach up and squeeze the bicep in front of her face, but resisted. For now.
“So where’d you go to college, genius boy?” she asked.
Marcus glanced at her, eyes flashing with amusement. “What is this, an inquisition? Enough about me; I want to hear about you. What’s your deal?”
“Doesn’t the whole world already know?” Zara replied lightly, licking a flake of pastry off her fingers. If he was sucking up to her to get close to her mother, might as well find out up front. Been there, done that.
“Huh?”
Zara shot him a look. His expression was curious but a little confused. She shrugged.
“Sorry, most people already know way too much about me when they ask that question,” she said. “Comes with the territory when your parents are famous.”
“Who are your parents?”
Was he serious? Zara sized him up, trying to guess his angle. How could he be at an event like this and not recognize her?
“Gina Girard,” she said after a moment, deciding to play along. “Zac Trask.”
“Oh!” His expression cleared. “Okay, got it. I thought your mom looked familiar earlier. So that’s your parents out of the way. What about you?”
She hesitated again. She liked to think she was pretty good at telling when someone was bullshitting her. And she didn’t think he was. That was kind of … well, different, at least. Intriguing, even.
“Um, I like to have fun,” she said, grabbing a couple of deviled eggs with caviar. “But my main th
ing is horseback riding. I’ve got a couple of horses I keep at this barn up in Westchester, and I show them a lot.”
“Really? Awesome.” He took one of the deviled eggs, too. “I rode some down in Texas. Not that much—I’m no expert or anything. But a buddy of mine has a ranch, and well … So do you have a boyfriend?”
Zara hid her smile. Okay, so she wasn’t the only one who was intrigued. Suddenly she was very glad she’d come tonight, boring movie and all.
“No one special.” She picked up her loaded plate and nodded toward some little tables set up in a corner of the room. “Let’s go sit down, and I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know.”
Chapter Ten
“So here it is.” Fitz finished fiddling with the last of the locks and opened the apartment door with a flourish. “Home sweet home.”
Kate stepped inside, so nervous she was afraid she might explode all over the elegant foyer’s parquet floor and tastefully muted walls. This was all happening so fast. Fitz had kept her distracted on the drive down here, telling funny stories and being his usual charming self. It had almost felt like any other evening, as if the two of them were just going out to dinner or something. At least until he’d led her up through his luxury building’s hushed, carpeted lobby. The higher the elevator had risen, the harder it had been for Kate to breathe. And it wasn’t the altitude, even though the apartment was on the twenty-third floor.
Fitz grabbed her duffel and followed her inside, letting the door fall shut behind him with a heavy thunk. He hit a switch, turning on a row of recessed overhead lights that lit their way down a long, narrow hall lined with framed paintings.
“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Living room’s this way.”
He led her down the hallway and into an enormous room decorated in shades of coffee and beige. Two of the walls were mostly windows, one set offering a spectacular view down Fifth Avenue and the other opening onto a large balcony overlooking Central Park.
“Wow, this place is … really nice.” The words felt inadequate and kind of stupid, but Kate wasn’t sure what else to say. Yes, she’d known that Fitz’s family was rich. More money than God—that was how most people put it. It was obvious in everything she already knew about him. His clothes. His string of fancy horses. The casual way he pulled out a credit card to pay for lunch at the diner. Even how he’d jumped in to take the blame for Ford, knowing his parents would make it right.
Kate already knew all that. She did. But right now, standing here in this elegant, expensive room overlooking half of Manhattan, the gulf between them had never felt so vast. Like the two of them didn’t even come from the same planet.
He gave a tug on her hand. “Dining room’s over here.”
She followed him through the formal dining room and the adjacent kitchen, all marble and stainless steel. A quick peek into a luxurious bathroom complete with spa tub and bidet.
“Bedrooms are back this way.” Fitz took her through a butler’s pantry, past a cozy wood-paneled den, and into another hallway, where he stopped and pushed open the first door. “Here’s my room.”
Kate’s heart started pounding. She stared at Fitz’s bed, suddenly very aware that the two of them were here alone, late at night. That he was about to lead her into his bedroom, maybe expecting to lay her down on that bed and …
She let out a little gasp. “Oh, I—um, that is, we, urgh …”
He glanced down at her, then smiled and squeezed her hand. “And your room’s this way,” he said, pulling her along to the next doorway. He swung it open, revealing a slightly smaller but tidy and attractive bedroom. “Good thing Mom likes to keep the guest room ready at all times.” He shrugged and grinned. “Because honestly? I suck at making up a bed. The sheets always come out all crooked.”
Kate smiled, relief flooding through her as he dropped her hand and stepped forward to toss her bag onto the guest bed. “Th-thanks,” she said. “I mean, this is nice. Really nice.”
“It’s yours as long as you need it.” He came over and took both of her hands in his. “My folks won’t be back until September, and if I bribe the maid they’ll never even know you were here.” He smiled that crooked little smile of his. “And you know I’d love having you around. All Kate all the time? Heaven.”
“Thanks,” she said again, that awkward feeling creeping back again. He was being awfully sweet. But she couldn’t help wondering—why? What was in this for him? He could easily get a zillion other girls. Girls twice as pretty as her, girls just as wealthy as him. Girls who didn’t have to work all day and end up smelling like dirt and hay and horses. Girls who weren’t so uptight about everything, who were willing to do more than kiss, who wouldn’t make him wait …
“You hungry?” Fitz dropped her hands and headed for the hall. “Go ahead and get settled in if you want. I’ll rustle us up some snacks, and then maybe we can find something decent on on-demand.”
A few minutes later they were ensconced on a squeaky leather sofa in the den. The fabric felt so rich and supple that Kate was almost afraid to touch it. But Fitz had pulled her down beside him and started tossing chips in the general direction of his mouth, clearly unperturbed when crumbs fell all over the sofa and the Oriental rug on the floor.
“What do you feel like watching?” he asked, scanning through the on-screen movie guide. “Comedy, action?”
“Whatever. You choose.” Kate tucked her bare feet up under herself, trying to relax.
Fitz chose a movie and hit start, then dropped the remote on the massive wood-block coffee table, grabbed another handful of chips, and leaned back beside Kate. “So did anything interesting happen after I left the barn today?” he asked as the opening credits started to roll. “Our boy do okay in his new turnout?”
Kate couldn’t help smiling as she thought about Flame. “Yeah,” she said. “He ran around a little at first, but when he realized there was more grass in there, he settled right in and started eating.”
“Cool.” Fitz crunched down on the chips, chewing with his mouth half open. “You know, I kind of bought him on a whim—”
“You? Doing something impulsive?” Kate feigned shock. “I can’t believe that!”
He threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, laughing. “Stop,” he said. “I’m being serious. And I was just going to compliment you again on your amazing eye. Because even I can see now that Flame’s going to be awesome once he hits the show ring.”
“He is pretty awesome, isn’t he?” Kate shivered and smiled as she remembered that day’s ride. “I mean, obviously we won’t know anything for sure until we try him over some jumps. But the way he takes everything in stride, I’m thinking we can at least set up a cross-rail next time, and then maybe …”
The conversation flowed naturally from there; they chatted about Flame’s training, other horses at the barn, the upcoming Washington Crossing show, even Summer’s Sweet Sixteen party. Then they stopped talking and watched the movie for a while. It was kind of dull, though, and Kate’s mind started wandering. Having Flame in the barn was amazing. But at what cost? What if Nat never talked to her again? Kate wasn’t sure she could stand that. But she couldn’t figure out what to do to fix things, either. This wasn’t like the other times she and Nat had fought; Nat wasn’t just going to forget she was mad at Kate this time.
Suddenly she realized that Fitz was running his hand up and down her arm. When she glanced over at him, he was staring at her.
“Hey,” he said, his voice husky and low.
“Hey,” she said quietly, her heart beating faster again.
He pulled her toward him and they kissed, softly at first. But it wasn’t long before things got more intense; Kate somehow found herself on his lap, her hands buried in his reddish-blond hair, his hands sliding under her shirt.
Wait, Kate said inside her head. This isn’t—we shouldn’t—
But her brain felt sluggish, and her body didn’t really w
ant to stop. Then Fitz suddenly pulled back, sucking in a long breath.
“Sorry,” he blurted out. “Um, I mean, it’s getting kind of late. We should probably both get some sleep or we’ll be dead at the barn tomorrow morning.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “I assume you’ll want to get there a little earlier than when I normally roll in, at like noon.”
“Oh. Right.” Kate quickly tugged her shirt back into place, then climbed to her feet. “I mean, yeah, that’s a good idea. I mean, um, good night.”
“Good night.” He stood too, then leaned down and brushed her lips with his once more, soft as a horse’s velvety muzzle. “Sleep tight, sweet Kate.”
He clicked off the TV, then led the way down the hall to the bedrooms, pausing at his own doorway and watching until she’d reached hers. With one last smile, he disappeared inside.
Kate stood there for a moment, a wave of gratitude almost overwhelming her. What had she been so worried about? Fitz had told her they could take things at her pace, and it was pretty obvious that he meant it.
She let herself into the guest room and fell onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, which was lit only by the glow of the city outside the windows. Maybe it hadn’t been crazy to come here. Maybe this would work out just fine after all.
“Are you kidding me?” Tommi exclaimed. “Truth isn’t subjective—it’s just, you know, the truth!”
The guy she was talking to leaned closer and grinned. “No way,” he said, tossing his head to get his over-long brown hair out of his eyes. “You should read some Kierkegaard sometime. Truth, like, totally depends on the person who’s experiencing it. Or something.”
“You’re nuts.” Tommi waved her beer for emphasis. A little sloshed over the edge of the plastic cup. Oops. But she figured it didn’t matter. The couch she was sitting on was even more disgusting than the one in Cousin Jon’s house. She took another drink.
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