How to Hook a Hottie (12 page)

His mouth, his lips, his breath, his total, hunky Jason Dalrymple–ness grew closer. And closer. Till I thought the sheer anticipation might be the death of me.

Was this the trick? You drive the girl so crazy that
she
kisses
you
?

But before I could make my move, his mouth came over mine in a nerve-numbing, mind-bending, take-me-to-the-moon kiss. One that broke our hand-hold and sent my arms flying around his neck.

Once I could breathe again, I nuzzled him with a lazy smile. “You owe me ten dollars.”

He grinned. I normally didn't
do
gullible, but I normally didn't kiss the love of my life, either.

“Let me run a tab,” he said, and kissed me again.

Moments later, gazing up at my amazing friend, I knew I had something money could never buy. And that when I thought about the past couple weeks, I had to admit I wasn't a
complete
failure at my business. After all, I'd made a little bit of money that I didn't have to give back.

And I'd hooked myself the hottest hottie of them all. At least to me.

Twenty

Five Months Later

T
he commencement committee was smart enough to plan the ceremony after the sun had set behind the football stadium, but eight hundred graduates and three or four times as many guests in any confined area generate a stifling amount of body heat. Factor in black caps and gowns, and our class was as antsy as any to toss our tassels and head for the hills.

Dal caught up to me as I was attempting to make my break. “So when are you going to show me what's under your gown?”

Anybody listening would have thought the worst . . . or maybe the best, depending on the point of view and the fact that we'd been a totally solid, committed couple since right before midterms. But I knew exactly what he was talking about, and there was no time like the present to show him “the real me.”

I backed into an empty row of folding chairs and shrugged the gown off to reveal a pink spaghetti-strapped dress.

He frowned. Not because of what it was; because of what it wasn't. Not a business suit.

“You didn't make the full five thou?” He sighed. “I'm sorry, Kate. Especially after the million hours behind the snack bar lately. Not to mention the interest you got from Mr. Hoppenfeffer when he paid you back for Lexie's competition fees.”

I shrugged.

“Look, I know I told you not to come to me if you were short. But I want to help. How much do you need?”

“A little over a hundred. And thanks for the offer, but I don't want it. I pulled off the As, and I'm this close,” I said, holding two fingers together, “to what my parents wanted. So if I can't talk them into cutting me slack on what amounts to a measly two percent, then I don't have the stuff to start making my first million yet.”

He studied my face, probably for hints of disappointment. What I hoped he saw was the same determination I'd been showing all year. Just tempered by a bit of experience and reality.

“Oh, well,” he said. “There's always the C.C.”

I reached for his hand. “I've already enrolled. Even if I
get
the money, I've decided that ‘student by day, entrepreneur by night’ has a certain ring to it.”

He smiled. “Sounds sorta sexy.”

I laughed and picked up my graduation robe, and together, we headed toward the bleacher exit. I'd agreed to meet Dad and Suz at the car.

With the place so packed, I almost missed the dark-haired lady standing off to one side, holding the balloon bouquet.

Almost.

Then her gaze seared into mine—two sets of brown eyes, the exact same shade, just a generation apart.

Emotion filled my throat. “Mom . . . ,” I said, abandoning my resolution never to call her by that name again.

She really
did
come home. The bull about her plane getting delayed on the East Coast—it wasn't bull. She hadn't been calling from Frankfurt after all.

“There's my favorite graduate,” she said, and gave me a hug so hard it hurt.

I strong-hugged back, returning the favor. Then, completely at a loss for words, I said, “Do you remember Dal?”

“Of course, Kate. And if I didn't, the fact that you've gushed about him in every conversation for months now would have jogged my memory.”

I wanted to bury my face in my hands. Did she
always
have to embarrass me?

But then I realized: yeah, she did. This was my mother. Over-the-top in so many ways. But not heartless, and not cruel. Just . . . self-absorbed and disconnected.

She did what she felt she needed to do to keep growing, to keep moving forward.

Just like I did.

That still didn't mean I liked her methods. But maybe if we spent enough time together . . . well, hey, she'd shown up here, so anything was possible.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. DelVecchio.”

“Goodness, you're a high school graduate now, Dal. An adult. Call me Pam.”

I eyed her, wondering if she planned to treat me with equal respect. Only time would tell.

The three of us moved with the pack into the parking lot, where Mark and Chelsea fell in with us. They were Dal's and my one success story, the only client couple who'd made it through the school year, who seemed to want to be together enough to work at it. And yes, Mark still glared at me sometimes, and Chelsea spent too many days looking like she'd just woken up, but who said Dal and I were perfect, either?

Well—okay—the hexagon did. When we answered the questions, we got solid lines that connected at every point. I supposed the diagram
could
be considered biased, since I was the one who constructed it, but who cared? Maybe Dal and I were works in progress on our own, but we were a perfect match.

I slipped my hand in the crook of his arm and watched him smile back at me.

Any way you looked at it, being with a guy who loved you, flaws and all, rated up there as an Ideal Opportunity not to be missed.

Tina Ferraro
was too consumed by her high school social life to create a time line for making her first million. In fact, one enduring marriage, two books, and three kids later, she's still waiting for popularity and the big bucks to arrive. In the meantime, she lives in front of a computer in Los Angeles, writing new stories and chatting with her readers. Check out her first novel,
Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress,
and her Web site at
www.tinaferraro.com.

also by Tina Ferraro

Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress

Published by Delacorte Press
an imprint of Random House Children's Books
a division of Random House, Inc.
New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incide
nts either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2008 by Christina Ferraro

All rights reserved.

Delacorte Press and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

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www.randomhouse.com/teachers

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ferraro, Tina.
How to hook a hottie / Tina Ferraro.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: Suddenly and unwillingly the girlfriend of a popular baseball player, seventeen-year-old Kate DelVecchio goes from social invisibility to paid matchmaker for her fellow students, progressing toward her goal of becoming a self-made millionaire by age twenty while proving herself to her absent mother.
[1. Dating services—Fiction. 2. Moneymaking projects—Fiction. 3. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 4. Family problems—Fiction. 5. High schools—Fiction. 6. Schools—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F365How 2008
[Fic]—dc22
2007012861

eISBN: 978-0-375-84652-6

v3.0