Read Online Lust - 1 by Robin Wasserman - Free Book Online Page B

the other end of the room who’d splayed herself out along a black leather couch like a particularly flexible cat.)
    But even though Harper was in charge and thus had a power trip to keep her awake, and even though they were planning what Harper was determined would be the best—or at least most entertaining and depraved—after party yet, the meeting was boring. As al meetings inevitably are.
    Logistics, list making, blah, blah, blah.
    It was hard to keep her mind on topic—and neither the rum and Coke nor Adam’s distracting grin were much of a help.
    Decisions, decisions.
    Miranda would handle music.
    Kane—unsurprisingly—volunteered to take care of alcohol and “miscel aneous substances.”
    Adam, son of the area’s most successful—and most absentee—real estate developer, would scout locations.
    And Kaia would help, because, “Wow, what a great way to get a better sense of the town!”
    Harper thought she might throw up.
    Mission eventual y accomplished, an afternoon’s worth of diversions beckoned.
    “What do you say, guys?” Kaia asked, rising from her sprawl and flinging open the glass doors that led out to the deck. “Should I turn on the hot tub?” Kane, who—bored out of his mind—had been moving at half speed al afternoon, sprang off the couch and tore off his shirt.
    “Just show me the way” he said, grinning.
    Miranda smiled at the sight of his bare chest, then blushed and quickly darted her head around to make sure no one had noticed. Harper may have been right about Kaia. She might be a “skanky, superficial bitch” (Miranda, for one, felt it was slightly too soon to tel , but she wasn’t about to get in the way when Harper went into battle mode), but there was now at least one reason to be thankful for her arrival in town. Actual y, plenty of reasons—Kane’s six-pack abs, his bulging biceps, his taut back muscles, and the adorable indentation that dipped beneath his waistband …. Miranda said a silent prayer of thanks and fol owed Kane, Kaia, and the rest of the group outside, where a large Jacuzzi was embedded in the hardwood deck.
    “My father’s midlife crisis has been very expensive for him,” Kaia explained, “and very fun for me.” She flipped on the jets.
    Stripping down to his fitted black boxer-briefs, Kane eased himself into the steaming water with a satisfied moan, as the rest of his friends looked on in envy and amusement.
    “Now this is what I cal a meeting,” Kane murmured to himself, raising his glass and toasting the empty air. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the marble lip of the hot tub, taking deep, measured breaths, shutting out the world.
    Kaia turned to Harper and Miranda, beckoning them toward the door back into the house. “Girls, I have plenty of bikinis upstairs, if you—oh,” she stopped herself, giving Harper a none-too-subtle once-over. “Actual y, I guess none of my suits would fit you , Harper,” she said loudly. “Sorry.” Miranda sucked in her breath. Most guys ranked Harper’s delicately curvy body somewhere between Angelina Jolie and Catherine Zeta-Jones (pre- pregnancy and gross marriage to Michael Douglas, of course). But curves were curves—something that the wil owy Penelope Cruz clone Kaia distinctly lacked. And not in a bad way.
    Harper visibly tensed, and Miranda waited, as if watching a wild animal poised before potential prey—would she recoil, or attack?
    After a measured pause, Harper did neither.
    Instead, she merely smiled graceful y—and pul ed off her shirt.
    “No problem,” she assured Kaia sweetly. “I think I can take care of myself.”
    And, stripped down to a satin black bra and matching panties (the latest from Victoria’s Secret—mail order, of course, since the only underwear within a decent drive of town came from the Wal-Mart off Route 53), Harper strol ed slowly across the deck toward the hot tub.
    Kane favored her with a long, low whistle.
    “Looking good, Grace,” he crowed, as