The au pairs skinny-dipping Read online

  "Here, I'll help you guys with your things," Eliza said, grabbing Jacqui's makeup bag and Mara's magazines.

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  The girls walked through the kitchen to the back door that led out to the terrace and garden. The grounds were pristine, the croquet set laid out for a game, and in the distance, the tennis and basketball courts shone with new paint.

  "Oh my God. Who is that?" Eliza asked in a stage whisper, when they reached the pool patio.

  Lounging on a raft in the middle of the infinity pool was the most beautiful boy they had ever seen. His entire lean, bronzed body was caramel-colored, from his honey-blond hair to his nut-brown tan. A cigarette dangled from his lower lip. He was wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a frosted cocktail glass with an umbrella in it.

  "Bonjour," the beautiful boy drawled, trailing a finger on the water.

  Jacqui's chest heaved. Had she said, "No more boys"? Did it count if he was the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen?

  He raised his sunglasses to appraise them, a playful smile on his lips.

  "Hi," Mara said weakly.

  "Bonjour yourself," Eliza shot back.

  "Boa tarde. " Jacqui smiled.

  "Je m'appelle Philippe Dufourg. You must be my coworkers, two of you at least," he said, in a sexy French accent.

  "Coworker?" Mara asked. "You're not..."

  He grinned, puffing on his cigarette and flicking his ashes into the chlorine-blue waters. "Mais oui. I am the new au pair."

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  aren't rules made to be broken?

  LAURIE FILLED THEM IN AS SHE LED THEM TO THE SERVANTS'

  cottage--Philippe was the French nephew of the kids'regular nanny, who took every summer off to go home to Cornwall. He went to school in London--hence the (almost) perfect English-- and had arrived just that morning. Philippe was an aspiring tennis pro and hoped to bolster his reputation by winning the Rolex Invitational, which took place in East Hampton each July. Besides babysitting the children, he was going to give them private tennis lessons.

  "And as you can see, he's made himself quite at home," Laurie said, with a hint of disapproval. "Well, here you are," she said, throwing open the door to the tidy cottage.

  Everything was exactly as they remembered it. Even the third step on the rickety stairs still squeaked. Their room was as plain and bare as a prison cell, but they hadn't expected anything more. There were a bunk bed and a small single bed, each with one flat pillow and scratchy wool blankets. Against the opposite wall were

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  two bureaus, a ratty armchair, and a nightstand with a lamp that didn't work that well ever since Eliza had tripped on its wire one night last July. There was one new addition, though: a shiny white intercom/phone, which Laurie explained Anna had had installed so they could get in touch with the au pairs with the push of a button.

  Mara and Jacqui began unpacking, chattering about this exciting new development (the boy, not the phone) as they decided on drawers and beds. "Do you want the top bunk?" Mara asked Jacqui.

  "Sure. Thanks. Where do you think they put the boy?" Jacqui nodded, pulling aside the curtain on the one small attic window.

  Mara shrugged. She hadn't given Philippe a second thought-she was still fixated on the Aston Martin, wondering if Ryan was on the grounds somewhere. Maybe he was in his room, or in the kitchen. Maybe she should do a little scouting. . . .

  Eliza sat on the single bed, feeling a little out of place. She felt nostalgic for last summer, remembering all the wild times they'd shared together in this small space--sneaking smokes out the window and bottles of Grey Goose from the Perrys' liquor cabinet. She and Jeremy had first made out on the very bed she was sitting on. But the feeling ended when she spotted a row of dust bunnies underneath the nightstand and remembered her air-conditioned bedroom back at her family's summer rental.

  "Hey--that's a nice necklace. Ryan has one just like it, doesn't he?" Mara asked, looking up from unpacking and noticing the

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  leather string Eliza was holding between her fingers, lost in thought.

  "Oh!" Eliza's hands flew from her neck. She looked around nervously. "Yeah. It's nothing, just this old thing I picked up."

  "Did you guys hang out in Florida?" Mara asked wistfully. "You and Ryan? How was he?"

  Eliza colored. "Excuse me?"

  "I dunno, what did he look like? Was he with anyone?" Mara asked.

  "Same as always," Eliza shrugged. "He wasn't around much. Anyway, what about that guy by the pool, huh? How lucky are you guys? What a hottie!" she said, to change the subject. She motioned to the two of them to come closer. "I heard French guys have the biggest..."

  Jacqui and Mara giggled.

  Just then, Philippe walked in, smelling of smoke and coconut suntan oil. Jacqui thought nothing smelled sexier. "Bon!" he said, rubbing his palms together. "Ca devrait etre amusant, trois filles et moi!"

  "No way, you're not staying here, are you?" Mara asked, realizing he was saying something about his room. Anna didn't seriously think to put two girls and one very hot guy in the same room, did she? But then, Anna Perry wasn't really one for propriety. Mara was aghast.

  Jacqui shrugged. What was the big deal? Obviously Mara had never backpacked through Europe. She was intrigued.

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  Philippe was staying in the same room with them. How very . . . convenient.

  "Out." Philippe nodded. He rummaged in the top bureau drawer for a shirt and pants and began to peel off his trunks.

  "Hold it! What do you think you're doing?" Mara demanded. She knew she was being a killjoy, but seriously, this was out of line. She didn't care if he was hot and French--she didn't want to feel awkward around him all summer. He would have to learn how to respect her privacy, even if he had no need for his own.

  Eliza and Jacqui looked a little disappointed. That little slice of Philippe's perfect backside was tantalizing. They had been looking forward to the show.

  Philippe shrugged. "Nakedness is not allowed? But I am in my room?

  Eliza and Jacqui watched, amused, as Mara marched Philippe to the hallway, holding his arms firmly to his sides. Now this was the uptight Mara they remembered. "In America, we change in private!" Mara insisted.

  Mara walked back into the room, wiping her palms in consternation. "Can you believe that guy? Anyway, Jac, I guess he gets that drawer next to the bed. Huh. Well, do you want to share that closet then? And I guess we should see what Laurie needs us to do."

  "Yeah--I guess I should go . . ." Eliza said awkwardly, standing up and collecting her purse. It was weird to be back in the old room and not be able to stay. "Hey, what are you guys doing

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  tomorrow night? Do you want to come over to my house and hang out? I don't start work till Saturday."

  "Maybe," Jacqui said, realizing for the second time in only a few minutes that her plan to ignore all distractions and be a stellar babysitter was not going to be as easy as she'd hoped. "If we can put the kids to bed early."

  "Don't worry, we'll be there," Mara assured her. If there was one thing Mara had learned last year, it was that they could figure out a way to take care of the kids and have a good time.

  Eliza raised an eyebrow and smiled. Jacqui being responsible? Mara ready to party? Some things really did change. They hugged Eliza good-bye, promising to call her soon.

  When Eliza left, her slides click-clacking loudly on the stairs, Philippe reentered the room, looking freshly shaven and wearing a starched white oxford shirt and perfectly pressed blue jeans.

  "Better?" he asked Mara.

  Mara nodded coolly. She had finished putting away all of her clothes, not having brought as many as Jacqui, who had already crammed the closet with her wardrobe. "I'm going to see what Laurie needs for the kids' rooms."

  "I'll be there in a bit," Jacqui promised, not meeting Mara's eyes. She was fully conscious that Philippe had sprawled, emperor like, on the single bed and was staring at her expectantly.

  M
ara shrugged her shoulders and left, thinking she might take a few unnecessary detours on the way to Laurie's office--say, the landing right by Ryan's room.

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  "So, Jacqui, are you also needing to see Laurie?" Philippe asked Jacqui. "Because there are still some, what you call it, pina coladas in the blender."

  Jacqui stopped putting her clothes away. She knew that the right thing to do was to follow Mara and get everything prepared for the kids tomorrow. But Philippe was still smiling at her, a dazzling preponderance of shiny white teeth and blue eyes. He reached under the bed and brought out a half-empty bottle of Bacardi. "Help me finish this?" he asked.

  "I guess I am kind of thirsty ..." Jacqui allowed. She had sworn to herself that she was really going to be better this summer: she was going to keep her head down, she was going to help Mara take care of the kids, she was going to study for that uh, test thing, S-A . . . whatever was it called again. . . .

  She exhaled loudly, squaring her shoulders, and looked straight into his eyes. "But you know what? I think I'll just catch up with you later," she told Philippe, running out of the room before he could say her name again in that sexy accent of his.

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  reunited, and it feels so . . . awkward

  MARA WOKE UP EARLY THEIR FIRST DAY IN THE AU PAIRS'

  room, tossing off the sheets and yawning. Jacqui was snoozing on the top bunk, and Philippe was snoring loudly under a mountain of blankets on the single bed. Last night, she and Jacqui had returned to the room to find Philippe smoking cigarettes and playing solitaire card games by himself. They'd joined him for a few hands of hearts before turning in early.

  Mara had spent most of yesterday evening skulking around the main house, hoping to catch Ryan, without any luck. Knowing he always got up early to surf before breakfast, she'd set the alarm and hoped to catch him on his way out. She was extra-careful to put on a cute outfit--a pale-green shrunken T-shirt that showed off her small waist, and Jessica Simpson--like cutoff jean shorts that showed off her legs. She put her long brown hair in a messy ponytail, taking care to frame a few loose tendrils around her face.

  Unfortunately, there was no sign of Ryan in his wet suit

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  checking the weather on the flat-screen TV in the kitchen, or waxing down his board in the driveway. Mara stared at the parked Aston Martin, as if willing Ryan to appear. Her shoulders slumped as she walked back into the house, wondering if he was avoiding her. Back in the kitchen, she helped herself to a cup of yogurt and heard voices coming from the patio. Her stomach clenched out of nervousness, and she opened the sliding door.

  Ryan was standing on the terrace, talking to a tall, blond girl. He looked up, startled, when he saw Mara. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and faded jeans, and was holding a sleeping bag under one arm and an Igloo cooler in the other. His hair was comically tousled, sticking out in every direction, and he had pillow creases on his cheek, but they only made him look more adorable. As usual, he was barefoot, and his toes were covered with sand.

  "Hey!" he said, and for an instant, Mara caught a glimpse of his open, dimpled smile, but it soon vanished into an embarrassed grimace. "Mara--I didn't know you were here."

  "I got in yesterday," she said, forcing a light tone. Who the hell was this girl? "Sorry for interrupting."

  Ryan dropped his things and walked toward her, his arms extended. "Not at all. It's great to see you," he said, making sure not to make contact with any part of her body other than her back, which he thumped as if she were one of his soccer teammates. She smelled the saltwater in his hair, which reminded her painfully of last summer.

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  "You too," she said, finding it difficult to breathe.

  He was even more gorgeous than she'd remembered. The sun had lightened his hair, and his green eyes sparkled in his darkly tanned face. He moved with the same easy grace, projected the same laid-back, down-to-earth vibe. The kind of guy who'd been born with everything and hadn't let that happy accident spoil him one bit. Mara had always thought he was way out of her league--but for one week last summer, he'd been blessedly, deliciously, gloriously hers. And now she wanted him back.

  "Allison was just giving me a ride home," Ryan explained, introducing the girls to each other. "Remember my friend Oz? He had a bonfire last night," he said, looping his arm around the six-foot-tall Charlize Theron clone. Allison was wearing a thin white tank top and drawstring pajamas. Her hair was messy and uncombed, but Mara noted how effortlessly sexy she looked. This was not a girl who took half an hour choosing just the right outfit and pulling tendrils out of her ponytail.

  "And this one was in no condition to drive!" Allison cooed, tickling Ryan's stomach.

  "Hey!" Ryan protested, smacking her hands away. They wrestled, and Allison pretended to get upset when Ryan caught her hands behind her back.

  Mara watched them flirt, her stomach tightening. Just a year ago she and Ryan had spent almost every night of the last week entwined in each other's arms and telling each other their deepest, darkest secrets. She remembered every scar on his body (the

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  one from when he blasted his knee skiing, the one down the side of his right calf from wiping out on his skateboard), every story he'd told her about growing up (Christmases in Maine, his Outward Bound safari in Kenya, how he still had lunch with his old Latin professor in New York), and especially the way his nose crinkled when he closed his eyes and kissed her. Even though Mara knew she was the one who'd broken up with him, it hurt to see him flirt with someone else.

  Mara was relieved when the show was over, but felt anxious when Ryan took a seat next to her on the patio table. Allison mentioned something about being cold, and Mara watched the girl's long, lithe figure glide to where a jeep was parked on the sand. They had driven up the back way, onto the private beachfront that bordered the Perry estate, which meant that Allison came from a family that also owned a mansion on Georgica, since the back roads were all private. Allison was exactly the kind of girl a guy like Ryan Perry was meant to be with. Mara put down her yogurt cup; she'd lost her appetite.

  Allison bounded back up to the patio, wearing a boy-sized Dartmouth sweatshirt. Mara remembered that Ryan had wanted to go to Dartmouth and wondered if he'd gotten in. Allison promptly sat on Ryan's lap.

  "What's this?" Allison asked, poking at an exotic-looking fruit display in the middle of the table.

  "That's a persimmon," Ryan said, pointing to what looked like a squashed orange tomato. "And this is a rambutan," he

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  explained, holding up a prickly red ball. "Anna gets them shipped in from Indonesia."

  One of Anna's many pretensions was snobbery over the local produce. Even if the Hamptons were famous for their plump strawberries, peaches, and pears, rare, expensive and imported always trumped fresh and available.

  "How do I open this?" Allison asked.

  Ryan showed her how to delicately peel the skin, exposing the white jellylike substance inside.

  "Yum!" Allison said, chewing. She peeled another and fed it to Ryan, who rewarded her with a kiss. They laughed and giggled, and Mara felt like she might vomit. She slid her chair back to get up.

  "So, how was the Jitney? Crowded?" Ryan asked, finally looking in her direction.

  She shook her head. "No--I flew. Anna set it up so I could ride with the Reynoldses on their jet."

  "Really?" Allison interjected. "What's it like? I heard it's so tacky!" she said, her eyes wide.

  "It's a new G5," Mara retorted, remembering what Garret had told her about the plane. "It's actually really nice," she added, feeling defensive.

  "I bet," Ryan said, and Mara thought she heard a bite in his tone.

  "Garrett is really sweet. He said he knows you," Mara said, deciding to feel Ryan out.

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  "He used to be a good friend of mine," Ryan said, his face stony. "But he's not anymore."

  Just then, a piercing whistle interrupted the early-morning silence, and t
hey looked up to see the object of their conversation standing in front of the dirt path between the two houses, holding up a tennis ball. "Bounced over the fence," Garrett Reynolds explained. He was wearing crisp tennis whites and looked like a Ralph Lauren model.

  "Hey," Ryan grunted.

  "Hi, Gar," Allison cooed. "Heard you guys got some new wings."

  Garrett nodded, smiling. He shambled over, pointing a finger at Mara. "Hi, gorgeous. We on for tomorrow night? I hope you've changed your mind. I've got the best table at the American reserved."

  Just yesterday, Mara had gently turned him down for a date, but after the display Ryan had just put on with Allison, she decided to change course. Mara smiled winningly back at Garrett. "Sure, why not?" she told him.

  "Good girl. Pick you up at seven." Garrett grinned. '"Bye, Ali. Later, Perry," he told Ryan, bouncing the tennis ball on his racket as he disappeared behind the hedges.

  Ryan cleared his throat. "Well. Have fun tomorrow night," he said brusquely. "By the way, I think Laurie's in her office," he said, talking to Mara as if she was just one of the many people who worked for the Perrys. He turned back to Allison, helping

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  her up from her seat, and the two of them disappeared into the house.

  Everything Mara had been hoping for--getting back together with Ryan, the two of them picking up exactly where they'd left off--was dashed before the summer had even begun. But before she could sink any further into her sadness, the ground suddenly began to shake, and Mara looked out to see a silver helicopter land on the lawn, whipping the tall grass to the ground.

  An emaciated woman wearing a billowing African muumuu stepped gingerly out of the side door, futilely shielding her hairdo against the wind and yelling at the copilots. Several children tumbled out after her, screaming loudly for their breakfast.