Robin Wasserman - Lust

The first book in the Seven Deadly Sins series, 2005

“And it was the best sex I’d ever had.” Harper finished off the story with her favorite line and a lascivious grin.

The other girls tanning themselves on the makeshift beach (though chaise lounges plus backyard plus desert sun and margaritas did not an island paradise make) sighed appreciatively. All but Miranda, who rolled her eyes and-just barely-stifled a snort. Harper had already given her best friend the full download on this guy, so she knew very well that the previous evening’s encounter had been nothing if not nasty, brutish, and (perhaps mercifully) short.

But Harper knew Miranda would keep her mouth shut. After all, when had she ever dared ruin a Harper Grace story? Never-which is exactly why their friendship had lasted so long.

“So what now?” Beth asked, tucking her long blond hair behind her ears. A nervous habit. Miranda and Harper exchanged a smirk: The hallmark of any good Beth Manning imitation was to get the hair tuck just right, at a frequency of about one per every three sentences. “Are you going to see him again?”

Harper just laughed and shook her head, a crest of wavy auburn hair whipping across her face. “Maybe when hell freezes over-or when pashminas come back in style-but not before. Not even great sex is worth dealing with that again, if you know what I mean…”

The girls all burst into laughter and, clinking their plastic margarita glasses, toasted-to good stories, and better decisions. In the rock-paper-scissors of life in Grace, California, sex sometimes trumped boredom-but often (given the quality of guys available in Grace) it was the other way around.

But this-sun, fun, and booze, girls only-this was the life. They’d been meeting once a week all summer, setting up shop in Harpers backyard-and given that the rest of the week was generally filled with sweat, lethargy, and dead-end part-time jobs off the highway, serving fast food or gas or porn to skeezy travelers, “beach day” was always a highlight. Even if instead of sexy bronzed lifeguards, they were watched over by a couple of spiny, brownish cacti. Even if the only available view consisted of the low-slung hills that loomed on the fringes of town, lumps of dirt and dust irregularly spotted with scrub brush as if they’d been struck by a fatal dose of desert leprosy. Even if the only water in sight sat warming in the pitcher Harper periodically tipped into the mouth of the tequila bottle, replacing what she’d taken in hopes her parents would remain none the wiser. So what? The sun still bore down on them from a cloudless sky, mixing with their carefully applied sunscreen to create the picture-perfect tan. The day was hot, the drinks were cool, and it was still summer. At least for now.

“But the really unbelievable thing-,” Harper began again, then stopped abruptly. “Aren’t you a little old for the Peeping Tom act?” she called out in a louder voice, gesturing toward the sliding glass door of the house next door, where a strikingly handsome face had just shown itself. Harper’s neighbor, and another highlight of the week: the handsome, hunky, and utterly unavailable Adam Morgan. It wouldn’t be a day at the beach without putting in some scoping time. And there was no one better to scope-too bad he always showed up fully clothed.

Adam crept into the backyard with one hand splayed loosely over his eyes.

“Is it safe for me to look, or have you ladies started up the nude tanning portion of your afternoon?” he asked, as the girls frantically threw themselves into poses that maximized their good parts-not that, in their skimpy bikinis, there was much of anywhere to hide the bad.

“This is reality, Adam, not your favorite porn movie,” Harper drawled. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere celebrating your last day of freedom? There’s only”-she checked her watch-“nineteen hours left before that first bell rings.”

“Yeah, good-bye summer, hello torture. Don’t worry, I’m headed out to the courts now-just thought I’d stop by to say hello.” He ruffled Harper’s hair and then squeezed onto the plastic chaise lounge next to Beth, slinging a tan, well-muscled arm around his girlfriend.

“Nice to see you, too,” Beth giggled. “Now get out of here so that Harper can finish telling us about her date.”

“Another date?” He flashed Harper a knowing grin and took a swig from Beth’s drink. “I just hope you’re not teaching my girl here any of your tricks.” He winked at Harper, then leaned over to give Beth a quick peck on the lips.

That was Adam-equal opportunity friend, one-woman man.

Beth nuzzled against her boyfriend. “Don’t worry, Adam-I think Harper’s got all the guys in town staked out as her own personal property. I guess I’m just stuck with you.”

No one who wasn’t watching for it would have noticed, but with those words, Harper’s face turned a definite shade of pale. And who could blame her? Listening to the happy couple’s flirtatious simpering was enough to turn anyone’s stomach. And given that Beth had only been invited in the first place by virtue of her connection to Adam, it seemed more than a bit inappropriate for her to be teasing Harper about her conquests. It was one thing when Harper and Miranda laughed about all the men-but coming out of Beth’s mouth, it just made Harper sound like… well… a slut.

But Harper suppressed the nasty comeback that threatened to leap off her tongue. No reason to let the blah blonde spoil her perfectly pleasant afternoon. Besides, Beth would learn her lesson-soon enough.

“I mean, come on, Harper,” Beth continued, oblivious to the dangerous ground she was treading. “After all these years and all these dates, is there even anyone left? Or have you been through every eligible guy in town?”

Harper aimed her most sugary grin at the happy couple, her gaze lingering on Adam’s handsomely chiseled face and brawny shoulders.

“Not yet, Beth,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Trust me-not yet.”

With a sneer, Kaia wearily waved away the stewardess-or flight attendant, if you wanted to bother being PC about it. Which she didn’t, of course. Who cared if she offended little blond Charlotte, washed-up beauty queen from Tennessee, or Ricky, her so-gay-here-come-the-stereotype-police-to-come-drag-him-away partner in crime? As if she wanted a rancid plate of underdone potatoes and gravy-swaddled mystery meat sitting in front of her for the rest of the flight. She didn’t need airplane food to make her nauseous-these days, life was doing a good enough job of that on its own.

She squirmed in her seat, trying her best not to touch the greasy arm of the woman next to her, who’d only barely managed to squeeze her rolls of fat into the narrow seat. Talk about airplane clichés-now all she needed was the screaming baby.

THUD .

Oh, that’s right-the universe’s central casting office had instead saddled her with a bratty five-year-old who had a bad case of ADD and, apparently, a spastic kicking problem.