“I like you.” He kissed her, roughly at first, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, tangling itself with hers, their breath loud and hurried in her ear. Then as she nibbled on his lower lip and opened her eyes, he opened his, and their movement slowed, until they were almost frozen, their lips connected, their eyes locked.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Reed flinched and thrust himself away from her, but Kaia didn’t refuse to let go. She’d recognize the harsh, patrician voice anywhere-Daddy Dearest was hard to forget. She wasn’t about to let him ruin her fun, not tonight. She needed Reed by her side, as a flesh-and-blood reminder that she wasn-t alone.
“I should think that’s pretty obvious,” she quipped, finally looking up. He loomed over them, far enough back to ensure no water would touch his custom-tailored Ermenegildo Zegna suit and Bruno Magli loafers. “What are you doing home?”
“I live here,” he reminded her.
It was only technically true. Two or three nights a month he lived there. The rest of the time it was difficult to remember his existence. The maid could have warned her he was due home tonight, Kaia thought in irritation. No matter-she could be dealt with later. For now, the damage was done.
“What’s the problem, Father?” she asked innocently. “I’m just making new friends. Isn’t that what you wanted? I thought the whole point of sending me out here was so I could meet some new people. You know, good influences.”
She tried to stroke Reed’s hair, but he jerked away and pulled out of her grasp.
Her father ignored her, as usual.
“Who are you?” he asked, glaring at Reed. “Get off my daughter and out of my Jacuzzi.” Reed stumbled to his feet, stepped up onto the wooden deck and, dripping, extended a hand to Keith Sellers.
Mistake.
Kaia’s father looked at him as he might a wet, stinky dog who’d tried to rub up against the leg of his $1,200 pants.
“Reed Sawyer, sir,” Reed said, dropping his hand when it became obvious no one was going to shake it.
“I know you, don’t I?”
“He works at the garage down on Main Street,” Kaia said brightly. “You probably saw him there when you took the Jag in for service.”
Now Keith Sellers looked as if the wet dog had peed on his $1,200 pants.
“Or maybe he delivered your pizza,” Kaia added helpfully, just to dig the knife in a little deeper. She knew very well that Keith Sellers never ordered pizza, even when he wasn’t on his no-carb diet.
Her father heaved a weary sigh.
“What are you doing, Kaia?” he asked, shaking his head. “This is a lot of effort to go to, just to spite me.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Kaia snapped. She climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself, handing one to Reed as well. He took it without looking at her.
“Why else would you be associating with this kind of trash?” Keith Sellers shrugged his shoulders and then strode back toward the house. On his way, he hit the lights, dropping them into darkness. Kaia could no longer see Reed’s face-or guess what he might be thinking. “Get him out of here, Kaia,” he called back to her, in a voice she knew better than to disobey. “I know you’ll do whatever you want-but you’re not doing it in my house.”
It was so pathetic when he actually tried to act parental. He was just too out of practice for it to stick.
“Come on,” she said, taking Reed’s hand and pulling him toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m going,” Reed agreed, pulling his hand away. He rested it firmly on her shoulder. “You stay.”
“What? Why?” Listen to me, she thought in disgust, needy and pathetic. “Who cares what he thinks?” she asked. “I don’t.”
“I think you do,” he said slowly, avoiding her gaze. “And that’s the problem.”
He walked away, and because she didn’t want to seem weak, she didn’t follow. She let the towel drop to the floor of the deck and in the darkness groped her way back to the forgiving waters of the hot tub.
Damn him, she thought, sinking in. Damn him for his pride, or stubbornness, or whatever had made him leave.
And damn her father. He’d been absent most of her life-was still absent-and despite the fact that she never asked anything of him, he kept taking everything that mattered to her. He’d taken her home, her credit cards, her freedom-and now Reed.
He wouldn’t be happy until she was left alone, with nothing.
Oh wait-
Mission accomplished.
He didn’t go straight to his pickup truck, but instead wandered off into the darkness, telling himself he was exploring the grounds-but the truth was, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He stopped after a few minutes, realizing that he had a perfect view of the back deck hot tub, Kaia’s figure illuminated in the darkness. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away. Especially since it was becoming clear that the two of them didn’t belong together, not in the real world. Out here, watching, he could forget all that and just appreciate her. He could remember the way she’d felt in his arms, and forget that she was likely just playing him, stringing him along for her own purposes.
Reed sighed, resisting the urge to light up. He needed something to take the edge off. Kaia was like a drug that made everything seem too real. It was as if he lived the rest of his life in black and white. With Kaia, the world wasn’t just brighter-it was blinding Technicolor.
And it was exhausting.
Reed spent most of his life hanging on the sidelines. It was his natural place, just as waiting and watching was his natural state. But with Kaia he found himself acting, rather than reacting, his normally placid mind consumed with questions: Why did she want him? Why did he want her? How would things end, and when?
Maybe it had been a mistake to get involved at all.
Reed decided to light up after all, and inhaled deeply, relishing the heat that spread through his lungs. Being with Kaia meant being in the center, under the spotlight. And he just wasn’t made for that kind of hassle. He lived on the fringes. He didn’t do. He watched.
Chapter 6
“This is a very quite serious charge, Ms. Grace.” Jack Powell frowned sternly at her, and ran a hand through his floppy brown hair. “Do you have any evidence to back up these claims?”
Other than absolute certainty in the pit of her stomach? Other than nearly explicit-but undocumented-admissions from both suspects? Uh…
“No,” she admitted. “I was hoping you could handle that. Now that you know what you’re looking for.”
“And why come to me with this information? Why not the vice principal, or someone else in the administration?”
“Well, I figure they must have used the newspaper equipment to print the flyer, and you are the sponsor. It seemed like your department.” Harper hoped it sounded convincing. She wasn’t about to admit that when you’re turning in your former best friend for stabbing you in the back, it’s more palatable to do so with the hottest teacher in the history of Haven High. Besides, Vice Principal Sorrento had a creepy birthmark on his forehead that had already eaten most of his hair and would surely soon get started on his face. Mr. Powell, on the other hand, could have been Hugh Grant’s stunt double-and pretending she was starring in one of those movies where the sassy American falls into bed with the dapper Englishman was almost enough to distract her from the task at hand.
She’d woken up that morning determined to act. Striking back was the best way to keep from obsessing over Miranda’s words and what it meant that the one person who knew her best had decided she wasn’t worth knowing.