Free Beach Blondes: June Dreams, July's Promise, August Magic (Summer) by Katherine Applegate Page B

water. It closed over her head, surprising her and frightening her a little. She wasn’t a great swimmer, though she could stay afloat. But this was open sea, and it was dark, and the music from Jaws had already been running through the back of her mind.
    With a kick she headed for a surface dappled and rippling with reflected light.
    Then there were powerful arms around her, holding her firmly. They broke the surface. Her face was inches from Adam’s, and the first thought that popped into her mind was that she probably didn’t look great right then, water streaming off her head, spitting out seawater. Whereas Adam definitely did look great, wet or not. Her hands felt hard muscle in his neck. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, close enough that she could feel his every breath.
    “You okay?” Adam asked. She could feel the rumble of his voice.
    “I’m fine. I can swim, you know.”
    “That’s good. Swimming is important around here.”
    “Yeah. You can, um, let me go now.”
    “Do I have to?” Adam asked.
    Marquez leaned over the side, offering Summer a hand. Summer took it and pulled hard but was unable to clear the drag of the water entirely. Then there were hands firmly planted on her behind, pushing her up.
    She slid over the side of the boat and gasped out her embarrassed thanks. Adam pulled himself up and over, an almost effortless move. He sat beside her and leaned across her to reach a cabinet. He found two towels and handed one to her.
    “Thanks,” Summer mumbled.
    “My extreme pleasure,” Adam said. “It’s hot,” he added quickly, as if he realized he’d sounded slightly sleazy. “Too hot, and a dive in the water was just what I needed.”
    He even seems sincere, Summer thought. But then again, he was from a political family. They probably had special genes that gave them the ability to sound sincere.
    “All right, enough of playing Coast Guard, back to the party,” Ross said.
    The boat moved along slowly, careful not to swamp the two Jet Skis bobbing along behind. If Ross was drunk, he still seemed able to pilot the boat, berthing it neatly alongside the dock.
    “I’m not exactly dressed for a party anymore,” Summer pointed out, indicating her bathing suit. The dress she had planned to wear was a total loss.
    “There’ll be plenty of girls wearing smaller bathing suits than that,” Adam assured her.
    Marquez nodded, and Summer began to wonder whether this was the kind of party she wanted to attend. But Marquez gave her a reassuring wink and a little shake of the head that said, hey, don’t worry about it.
    “Stay,” Adam said. “Please.”
    Again he sounded as if he really wanted her to stay. As if she was supposed to believe that someone like Adam Merrick really cared one way or the other if some tourist from the home of the Mall of America went to his party.
    “Okay, I guess. Thanks.” There was no polite way to get out of it. Not now. She didn’t even know the way home.
    A neat, crushed-shell path led from the dock across a vast lawn toward the house. It was painful under Summer’s tender feet, so she walked onto the grass, as thick and spongy as a mattress.
    The house was just two stories high, but it extended in every direction, looking as large as the main building of Summer’s high school. Some, if not most, of the windows were bright, revealing strangely positioned cupolas and parapets and sudden, capricious balconies.
    But the party wasn’t in the house. The party was in front of the house, past the looping driveway crammed with cars, past the naked, spotlit flagpole. Summer could see a mass of bodies writhing under the reddish light of Japanese lamps hung from the trees, long hair flying in time with the music, arms randomly thrust into the air, smooth, tan female legs everywhere, protruding from shorts and minis and bathing suit bottoms. Hairy guy legs as well, looking stubby in big shorts or extremely long in little European bathing suits.
    Ross