Pride (24 page)

He loves me.

Tonight, they would be admired, envied, the center of attention—and why not? They were the perfect couple. Every girl at that party would wish she could take Harper’s place. But none of them ever would. Adam had made that clear—and Harper finally believed him.

She wrapped the glittery purple scarf around her neck—brand-new purchase, courtesy of Mom and Dad, though they didn’t know it—and applied one last layer of raspberry lip gloss. Adam was due any minute, and she was running late—it had taken her far too long to decide what to wear. But the perfect outfit was essential: Everyone who was anyone would be at Kaia’s tonight. Harper had seen to that.

A last-minute party wasn’t the easiest thing to pull off, but Harper had plenty of connections—and, fortunately, the town of Grace wasn’t about to offer much competition when it came to exciting nightlife. Even on New Year’s Eve.

Harper had been happy to help. These days, she was happy to do pretty much anything. Being in love could do that to you. And not only was she happier than she’d ever been, but for the first time, it was a happiness that didn’t depend on seeing others miserable.

Not completely, at least.

She slid on a pair of strappy silver heels that went perfectly with her silvery halter top, and checked herself out in the mirror.

I look hot,
she thought approvingly.
I look like the kind of girl who
should
be dating the hottest guy in town
.

Officially, it was Kaia’s party, she supposed. But it would be
Harper’s
night. And, in a few more hours, the beginning of
Harper’s
year. She’d wasted so much time worrying that Adam didn’t want her, worrying that she should be a better person—screw that. Adam loved her just the way she was. He’d proven that much last night. And then again this afternoon. And Harper had proven to herself that she was every bit as incredible as she’d always thought.

It was New Year’s Eve, a time for resolutions, and this year, Harper had only one: No more second-guessing herself, no more feeling guilty about how she might have acted, regretful about what she might have done. She deserved everything she had—and she had it all.

They say you can’t have it all. But what did they know?

And what better way to celebrate her good fortune, Kaia decided, than to open her house to the peons and show off her remarkable house and her remarkable life?

She’d slipped into a dusty rose Miu Miu top, with deliciously expensive fabric and a plunging neckline, and paired it with a suede skirt she’d picked up at a Betsey Johnson sample sale last year. The color looked fabulous against her deep tan—which, she had to admit, was even better than the one she’d picked up last winter break, sipping Margaritas on a yacht off the coast of Turks and Caicos.

Too bad that, along with her perfect wardrobe and her perfect tan, she couldn’t show off her perfect man. Jack Powell was considered such a prize—Grace’s bachelor #1—it was a shame Kaia couldn’t broadcast their relationship to the world. Powell had his choice of any girl, any woman he wanted—and he wanted Kaia.

To think she’d almost let herself get distracted, by Reed, of all people. Pizza boy had something, that was clear. But it wasn’t anything she wanted. Not while she had a man like Jack Powell at her beck and call. Living in New York City had taught Kaia a few things, and she knew that you didn’t trade in your penthouse for a tenement. Firstclass apartments were hard to come by—almost as hard as first-class guys.
Especially
in a place like this.

Kaia and Jack Powell, together? That was a power couple, a pair who would turn heads.

Kaia and Reed Whoever? An image like that could only turn stomachs—starting with Kaia’s own.

So what if she found Reed intriguing, if her heart pounded a little faster, a little louder when he was around? All that was in the past—and, she resolved, it was going to stay that way. The New Year meant no more Reed. No more playing with fire—and no more digging through the trash.

Kaia was strict about her New Year’s resolutions, stricter than most—she usually lasted well into February.

This year, she lasted about five minutes. And then the doorbell rang.

She checked her watch—8:30—still far too early for even the most overeager of guests. And Kaia was pretty sure Harper wouldn’t have invited anyone clueless enough to even show up on time. Or did they not do fashionably late out here in hicksville?

She opened the door—and there he was, the same ratty T-shirt, the same smoldering eyes, and suddenly she was right back where she’d started.

On the brink of disaster.

“I heard you’re having a party,” Reed said by way of greeting. “My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

“You weren’t—” Kaia cut herself off, torn between wanting to slam the door in his face and wanting to rip his clothes off. Telling him he purposely hadn’t been invited didn’t seem like the right move, but what if he wanted to stay?
That
could never be allowed. Your guest list defined you, and she refused to be known as the type of girl who invited—or even acknowledged the existence of—his type of guy.

“I don’t do parties,” he informed her.

She struggled not to look too relieved. On the other hand, she wasn’t quite ready for him to leave. And she definitely wasn’t ready for the realization that a part of her wanted to leave with him. “So why are you here?” she asked, trying to sound as if she didn’t care.

Which, she assured herself, she didn’t.

“I figured we’d start the New Year together,” he explained.

“It’s eight thirty,” she pointed out caustically.

“I thought you could just pretend,” he said, flashing a knowing grin. “You’re good at that.”

He pulled out a paper noisemaker and gave it a half-hearted toot. Then, tossing it aside, he pulled her into his arms.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek, and then kissed her, sucking deeply on her lower lip, digging his hands into her flesh. She tore at him with urgency, at first, and then something shifted—the rough and raw energy between them softened, deepened. As his hands cupped her face, she opened her eyes, and he was watching her, his bottomless brown eyes only centimeters away. She could see herself reflected in them. She closed her eyes again and shut in the darkness, her world narrowed to the taste of his lips, the touch of his fingers, the sound of his breathing.

Happy New Year?
She mused.
Just maybe
.

chapter
13

“You’re the only one I want, the only one I need….”

Adam let the lyrics wash over him and pulled Harper in tighter as they swayed slowly back and forth to the music. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her auburn waves cascading down his chest.

Kaia’s house, even more impressive than he’d remembered, was filled with people—some lounging in the hot tub, some picking their way through the gourmet spread, and a few couples off on the fringes, lost in their own world, like Harper and Adam.

A cool, bluish light lit the oversize room, giving the stark white furniture and walls an icy sheen.

“I could never live here,” Harper murmured, voicing his thoughts. “It’s too …”

“Cold,” he finished for her. And it was true. Living like this, like Kaia, you could freeze to death.

“But its a great party,” she continued. “Don’t you think?”

“Definitely.” Also true. “But any party would be great—with you.” Adam had already had a couple drinks, and, with a little alcohol poured into him, his cheesiness factor skyrocketed.

Harper raised her head from his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Ad, you don’t need to butter me up. You’ve already got me,” she pointed out, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“What?” he asked defensively. “It’s true!”

She laughed and shook her head, her hair whipping across his face. “You’re a little drunk, my friend. But you’re also pretty damn sweet, so I guess it’s okay.”

“Well, as long as I have your permission,” he blustered.

She laid her head back against his shoulder. “I love this song,” she said softly.

“All I ever needed, here in your arms …”

More couples had joined them on the impromptu dance floor—but only one of them caught Adam’s eye.

Kane had his back turned, but Adam could see her face, peeking over Kane’s shoulder. Her blond hair was down, falling across her cheek like a golden curtain. And her clear blue eyes met his.

“… the only one I want, the only one I need …”

He closed his eyes—but he still saw her face.

Beth jerked her head away.

Stop watching him,
she instructed herself sternly, knowing it was no use. She’d been following him with her eyes all night, catching a glimpse of him embracing Harper by the doorway, holding hands on the stairs, kissing on the back deck. They were everywhere—and Beth couldn’t force herself to stay away.

“What’s wrong?” Kane asked, peering down at her in concern.

“Nothing,” she said quietly, thinking fast. “I was just looking … at all these couples dancing. It’s kind of sad, isn’t it, how no one really dances anymore?”

“We’re dancing,” he pointed out.

“No, that’s not what I mean. We’re just standing in one place, rocking back and forth. That’s not dancing—not
really
. In the old days …”

“Let me guess: women in fancy ball gowns, men in tuxedos sweeping them around the dance floor?” he suggested.

“Waltzing the night away,” she added, with a dreamy, faraway smile.

“Don’t forget the ‘forbidden dance,’” he put in with a smirk.

She gave him a teasing push. “Kane, I’m serious!”

“And like I always say, your wish is my command.” He grabbed her hand in his, placing her other hand firmly at his waist. “Let’s go.”

“Go where—?”

Without answering, he swept her feet off the floor and, in classic ballroom form, began leading her around the room, weaving through couples and crowds of people, twirling her out and then reeling her back in.

“People are staring at us!” she gasped through her laughter.

“Let them stare,” he crowed. “They’re just jealous.”

The whole room had, indeed, gradually stopped talking and turned to gape at the couple whirling through the room as if clumsy extras in a remake of
Cinderella
. But for once, Beth didn’t care. She was having too much fun, breathless with laughter, flying in Kane’s arms, feeling suddenly, wildly alive. He was right: Who cared what anyone thought?

Finally the song ended, and he dipped her with an exaggerated flourish and then swept her back up into a deep kiss. “Happy New Year,” he whispered.

“I’ve never—that was unbelievable,” she babbled, still flushed and giggling.

“I promised you I’d show you a good time,” he reminded her. “You just have to trust me.”

“I guess I’ve learned my lesson,” she agreed, unable to stop smiling. She kissed him again. “So, what’s next on the agenda?”

“Funny you should ask.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I’ve got a little surprise for you—Merry belated Christmas.”

“What is it?” she asked in delight, tearing off the wrapping paper. Her smile faded as she opened the box and saw what lay inside.

Two small yellow tablets. And that was it.

“Kane, what is this?” she asked in a dull, flat voice.

“Just something to make our New Year’s extra special,” he explained, putting an arm around her.

She shrugged it off.

“I don’t do drugs,” she snapped. “You know that.”

“It’s not like this would make you a junkie,” he wheedled. “It’s just something special, a one-time deal. And you won’t
believe
how it will make you feel.”

Beth suddenly felt like she was in the middle of one of those horrible after-school specials they forced on you in junior high health class, where the heroine almost bows to peer pressure but, in the end, wises up and decides to “just say no!” Or maybe this was one of those where the heroine decides to throw caution to the wind … and ends up living in a cardboard box with needle tracks tracing across her arms.