by Laura Moore
“Right.” He paused. “Are you going to Montauk tomorrow?”
It was done. She’d said yes to taking him surfing. But she really wished her heart didn’t trip at the prospect of spending more time with him. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Something in his tone told her he was talking about more than hitching a ride to Ditch Plains.
Gen and Alex Miller had a tradition of throwing a holiday party on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. With Gen’s fame as an artist and Alex’s success as a venture capitalist, along with their ties to old Hamptons society, theirs was the coveted invitation on the East End. Much to the fury of Mimi, Dakota was the only Hale on the guest list.
That was only one reason Dakota loved going. For all their dynamism and influence, Gen and Alex knew how to have fun, and their guests, a mix of locals, city friends, and family, filled the house with laughter and interesting conversation.
Dakota and her crew had all worked over Thanksgiving. Splitting into two teams, they’d prepped, served, and cleaned up at the Hogans’ and the Ellsworths’, both hosting for extended family. It was seven o’clock by the time Dakota exchanged a weary goodnight with Jarrett. They parted, he to hang with his girlfriend, she to drive to Lauren’s shingled farmhouse. Holidays were tough for Lauren; memories of her husband, Zach, continued to haunt.
After taking over bedtime duties for Lauren and reading Katie and Ali a story, tucking them in with their favorite stuffed animals, and kissing them goodnight, Dakota changed into jeans and Uggs and accompanied Lauren for a final barn check. Then they settled down before a crackling fire, Lauren’s two wirehaired Jack Russells, Monty and Jax, curled on either side of them, and feasted on tacos and tequila while watching Sleepless in Seattle so that Lauren could pretend her tears were for Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks.
As nontraditional and melancholy as her and Lauren’s Thanksgiving night was, it was far preferable to the times she’d succumbed to Piper’s less than subtle hints and prepared a Thanksgiving meal on Dune Road. The marathon of cooking, serving Piper’s assorted friends, and then washing up after them would have been fine had her mother ever thought to say thanks. This year, luckily, Piper had Duncan Harding to distract her. For that reason alone, Dakota thought she should like the latest boy toy.
Max hadn’t come out. The weekend before Thanksgiving, she’d taken him surfing. He was learning quickly. With each ride, he was more confident, unafraid to experiment with angles and positions as he worked the waves.
Watching him, it was hard not to think about sex.
Even bobbing on the water while they waited in the lulls for the next set to come rolling in, she couldn’t help lowering her gaze to take in the broad wall of his chest and the imposing V of his muscular thighs straddling the board.
Framed by black neoprene, his face—with his penetrating eyes, the intriguing bump on his otherwise straight, no-nonsense nose, and lips that were as firm and commanding as she’d initially suspected—was just as distracting. While she would have liked to resent him for disturbing the peace she found on the water, the blame lay with her.
To resist her fascination, she formulated shopping lists and made a mental spreadsheet with the holiday work schedule. Naturally she had to inquire about his plans.
“Will you be needing me on Thursday?” she asked.
“No, the head of my firm holds a Thanksgiving celebration at his place. All four partners and our junior associates are invited.”
She had a clear image of what kind of party the head of a successful private equity firm would throw. “Over the top” wouldn’t begin to describe it.
“But you’ll be going to Alex and Gen’s?” She told herself she was asking for professional reasons, but she knew there was more to the question than whether she should add muffins, freshly squeezed orange juice, fruit, milk, and a box of Max’s favorite cereal to her shopping list, and another cleaning slot to the work schedule.
“Not sure. Bob Elders’s ranch is in Sun Valley, Idaho. Sometimes it snows.”
“Oh.” She rearranged the mental image she’d formed, replacing crystal chandeliers, marble, and ceiling-to-floor windows with a mega-lodge decorated with elk antlers, stone, and timber. Instead of a panorama of skyscrapers, Max and his colleagues would enjoy a vista of mountain ranges.
But then on Saturday, while she was walking on the beach with Hendrick, Arlo running ahead of them over the hard sand in shaggy, bounding leaps, she received a text.
Arriving @ 3:00.
It was, like all of Max’s texts, pared down to the essentials. One word, a symbol, and a number shouldn’t make her pulse leap. Or make her stare at the screen for several seconds.
“Good news?”
She raised her head and nonchalantly returned her cell to the front pocket of her down jacket. “Max will be coming out after all.”
“Reason enough to smile.”
She hadn’t realized she had been. “I’m just glad I decided to buy groceries for him after all.”
Hendrick nodded gravely.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Of course not,” he said, laughing when she shook her head in exasperation.
—
For Alex and Gen’s party, she chose one of her favorite dresses, one she was careful to hide in the back of her closet away from Piper’s grasp. Filching clothes was another boundary her mother ignored when she dropped by Dakota’s place on Marion Lane. Invariably she’d wander into Dakota’s bedroom, asking over her shoulder whether Dakota had bought anything new because she was so bored with her own wardrobe.
The long-sleeved, scoop-necked dress was a dark metallic gold that ended midthigh and did good things for her legs, especially when paired with high-heeled nude pumps. Dakota knew she’d probably regret the heels before the end of the night, but sometimes Uggs just didn’t cut it.
She didn’t want to arrive too early, since Rae, Jarrett, and Lupe were working tonight, along with Andrew and George, two part-time employees who made themselves available for the bigger parties. Rae was in charge and it was her show. Dakota didn’t want her to feel that she was looking over Rae’s shoulder.
The forecast had warned of a heavy fog later, so she left the front lights on in her house and flicked on the one hanging over the door of the barn that served as both garage and storage space for her surfboards and Premier Service’s equipment.
Gen and Alex’s driveway was already lined with cars when Dakota arrived. She was actually relieved not to see the fire-engine-red Maserati. Once she’d said hi to Gen and Alex and found some people to talk to, her party nerves would settle. Then, when Max showed up, it would be like seeing a familiar face. It would be nice.
The house was filled with voices and laughter and the vibrant hues of women dressed in velvets, silks, and cashmeres. Men were in jackets, some wearing ties, others opting for crewnecks and V-necks under their sports coats. Dakota saw Rae in her crisp white shirt, burgundy bow tie, and tailored black pants. With her long hair pulled back in a chignon, she carried a tray of champagne-filled glasses with the grace of a dancer.
Spotting Dakota, she smiled and mouthed, “Wow.” After offering flutes to the other guests, she made her way to Dakota.
“Looking fine, boss. May I offer you some champagne?”
“Thank you.” She picked up a flute and sipped. It was delicious. “How’s it going?”
“Piece of cake. Why can’t everyone be like Alex and Gen? They’re so great. And normal.”
“I know.” She glanced around. “Where is Gen?”
“In the dining room, making sure the kids eat something other than brownies and cake. George and Andrew set out the buffet a few minutes ago. Alex is in the library talking to Astrid Shibles and some Wall Street types. Oh, and don’t look now, but your hands-down hottest client just walked in. And yes, the man looks incredible.”
“Oh.” She took a slow sip of champagne, but it only made the sudden flutters in her
stomach that much more…fluttery. To focus on something other than Max, she said, “You’ll come get me if you need—”
“Dakota, you’re here to have fun. Go have some. Me, I’m here to pay for my new kitchen floor, which is gonna look awesome.” Rae’s dark gaze slid past Dakota and her smile widened. “Good evening, Mr. Carr. Could I interest you in a glass of champagne?”
“Hello, Rae. Yes, I’d like that.”
Dakota willed herself to remain composed. Then she turned and everything inside her went a little haywire. He wore a black suit and a white shirt that was open at the collar, a stunning combination of elegant and casual.
“Nice” was such a vapid word. What in the world had made her believe anything connected to Max could ever be so blandly pleasant?
Then Max spoke again, and his voice sounded even deeper, an intimate rumble. “Hello, Dakota. You look stunning.”
“Thank you.” The compliment shouldn’t mean so much or cause a zing of awareness to dance through her veins.
Caught in the warmth of his gaze and the curve of his lips, a reminder of the drugging pleasure of his kisses, she barely registered Rae clearing her throat.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to refill this tray.” As she passed Dakota she whispered, “I will kill you if you go home alone tonight.”
Max’s hearing was obviously excellent, for his smile widened in amusement.
She pretended not to notice. “How was Idaho?”
“Predictable, unlike here.” He took a sip of champagne. “Will blood be shed?”
She raised a brow. “Rae’s bark is worse than her bite.”
He moved closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, anticipate its hard strength. “Anything I can do to tip the scales?”
“Afraid not.” His smile and the light in his eyes, a promise of sensual pleasure she too often denied herself, had already decided her. She was tired of thinking about sex. She wanted it. And she wanted it with Max. She swept her gaze over the room. “There are people here you might enjoy meeting. Shall I introduce you?”
“Sure—unless I can convince you to walk out the front door with me.”
“I haven’t even said hello to Gen and Alex yet.”
“I suppose it would be rude to leave before greeting them. Then again, the way you look right now makes me wonder if I couldn’t simply send a case of champagne in apology.”
“Let’s expand your Hamptons social circle at least a little.” She paused a beat. “And by the way, you look pretty good tonight, too.”
He cocked his head, as if sensing a change in her. “Do I?”
“Yes.” It was time to be honest and frank in admitting her desire. “And Rae won’t even have to growl at me. It seems you’ve won again.”
The light that flared in his eyes warmed her. “Thank God.” He grinned. “And thank you.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, a possessive gesture that sent awareness rippling through her, he said, “For that, I’ll follow wherever you lead.”
—
Max was as much a draw as she’d expected. People were curious about Windhaven’s new owner. The locals were reassured at having her, a Hale and a bona fide Hamptons full-timer, introduce him. The artists among them, who were active in conserving the beauty of the East End, perked up upon being reminded by her that Max had preferred to keep the old house standing rather than bulldozing it, as many other wealthy newcomers would have done.
Max did the rest. His calm confidence, obvious intelligence, and good looks, combined with the catnip effect of his hundreds of millions had the predictable effect on the moneymen and their bejeweled wives. Gestures and broad smiles said it all: Max had conquered his audience.
She was equally conscious of her own surrender and excitement. Awareness caused her to feel the silky weight of her hair as she tucked it behind her ear, the simple gesture fraught with sensuality. The cling of her dress made her conscious of the swell of her breasts, the nip of her waist, the flare of her hips. Even her skin felt different, hypersensitized.
All the while, conversation continued. Then Max would turn to her with a comment or merely angle his head, focusing on her with that singular intensity, and the rest of the room would melt away.
As they moved from one cluster of guests to the next, his hand would return to the small of her back, making her heart soar like a flock of plovers taking flight.
Gen found them a short while later. Kissing their cheeks in welcome, she said, “Oh, good, Max, you’ve had Dakota to introduce you.”
“Yes. It’s quite a party, Gen.”
“Thank you. It’s a fun mix of people. And how was your Thanksgiving?” she asked him. “Did you spend it with family?”
“No.” Max shook his head. “Bob Elders, Summit’s director, holds an annual party at his spread in Sun Valley. A command performance for the team.”
“It’s a shame that you couldn’t get home.” Although married to a venture capitalist, Gen hadn’t bought into the culture. Turning to Dakota, she asked, “And how are you?”
“I’m fine. You look lovely.”
“Yes,” Max said. “I’d expect you to be a bit ragged around the edges, throwing such a big party on the heels of Thanksgiving.”
“I’d be an utter wreck if it weren’t for Dakota.” Gen grinned.
“Stop, you’ll embarrass me,” she said.
“It’s true,” Gen insisted. “When Alex and I first threw this party, I had my sister, Bridget, come and cook up a storm—remember, Dakota? But then her restaurant received a James Beard Award and there went my personal chef. And this party’s gotten bigger every year. No way could I do it without Premier Service, especially when I’ve got an exhibition coming up. I’m still working on a few canvases.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you for an invitation. I’m hoping to hang a Gen Monaghan on my walls,” Max said.
“Funny, that’s been my wish for years,” Dakota said with a smile. “The show’s in January, right?”
“Have no fear, you’re both on the guest list. Look for your invitations next week and please, please come to the opening. I’ll need as many friendly faces there as possible. The New York art crowd can be savage.”
“I can’t wait to see the paintings. I’m sure the show will be spectacular,” Dakota said.
“Come into the library with me,” Gen told them. “Alex is there talking to some people. I’m sure you already know a few of them, Max, but Dakota should meet them. One couple in particular might be great potential clients. I want to introduce you before Alex’s sister, Cassie, arrives. She just texted me. The gang should be here any minute.”
—
The round of introductions finished, Dakota was chatting with a couple roughly her age, the wife a corporate lawyer and the husband in advertising. They were house-hunting for a summer place in Sag Harbor, drawn by the architecture of the old houses.
Next to her, Max was talking to Alex and Gen and a man who owned a chain of luxury hotels and lived on Meadow Lane in Southampton, a few doors down from Calvin Klein. He was telling them about a fundraiser the designer had hosted for the Animal Rescue League, and how much fun it had been to see the celebrities and outrageously beautiful models being dragged about by their overexcited pooches. The sight was classic Hamptons: bighearted and well-intentioned, but also crazy and completely over the top. He hoped Calvin would agree to host it again next season.
The sound of several voices reached them. Dakota looked toward the double-door entry and recognized Cassie Miller and her husband, Caleb Wells. In Caleb’s arms was a shy-looking little girl with a halo of golden curls who made Dakota’s heart melt. Next to Cassie were the older children, Jamie and Sophie—they must be eighteen by now, she calculated, and Dylan, who was seven.
Alex and Gen went over and hugged Cassie and the others, and Alex took Holly from his brother-in-law and settled her against his chest, saying, “Let’s give your dad a chance to drink some champagne, okay, pumpkin?”
Dakota was pleased to see that her star server, Jarrett, was right there with champagne as well as nonalcoholic drinks for the kids. Andy followed him with a tray of appetizers.
Alex brought his extended family over to introduce them.
“And you remember Dakota,” he said to Jamie and Sophie.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “It’s great to see you again.”
“Is that the lobster surfing lady?” Holly asked, pointing a chubby finger at her.
“You are a legend in our household,” Cassie said with a laugh. “Yes, that’s the lobster surfing lady, Holly, but you can also call her Dakota.”
“Lobster surfing lady,” Max said with a smile that Dakota felt straight down to her toes. “There must be a story there.”
“Dakota taught Jamie and me how to eat lobsters at Uncle Alex and Aunt Gen’s wedding. We’d never had them before,” Sophie answered.
“We were super-deprived as kids,” Jamie said.
“Yeah, terribly deprived, because most seven-year-olds eat lobster all the time,” Cassie mocked.
Dylan piped up. “And one summer, Uncle Alex and Aunt Gen took us to Montauk and we watched you surf. Then we all went to dinner at…” He faltered. “Where was it again?”
“The Surf Lodge,” Alex provided.
Dylan nodded, his dark curls bobbing. “And we all ate lobsters and Dakota showed me how to break open the claw—”
“Hence ‘the lobster surfing lady,’ ” Alex said to Max.
“—and then afterward there were fireworks on the beach,” Dylan finished.
“What a good memory you have. That was a fun night,” Dakota said. “Maybe we can do it again this summer.”
Dylan’s face lit up.
Cassie ruffled her younger son’s hair. “Well, the Hampton Classic is on our show schedule. I’m hoping I don’t have to ride off against these two,” she said with a nod to Jamie and Sophie. “The Miller-Wells twins are making quite a name for themselves on the West Coast.”
“You two are twins?” Max asked, his voice oddly sharp.
She supposed he was simply surprised. A stranger might not guess that they were fraternal twins. Though their coloring was identical, curly blond hair and deep blue eyes, Jamie topped his sister by a good five inches. Many would assume more than minutes separated their birth dates.
