Lust - 1

Sins of the flesh are the most enticing

Harper heard the old Chevy roar into the driveway and rushed to the window. There he was. Lean. Tan. Shirtless. His golden hair bronzed by the sun, his hundred-watt smile piercing through his obvious exhaustion ….

She opened the window, about to cal out, to wave—then thought better of it and just watched. He was her oldest friend, the boy who knew al of her secrets and liked her anyway—the boy she’d recently discovered was a man she wanted to be with. Might even be in love with.

There was just one problem with the picture-perfect romance—the picture-perfect girlfriend. Beautiful Beth. Blond Beth. Bland and boring Beth.

Lately, the Blond One was al Adam could talk about, and it was driving Harper slowly but surely insane.

Harper slammed the window shut and crossed the room to her bed, which was covered in clothes—a haphazard pile of unsuitable first-day-of-school possibilities ….

She needed something special, something that would make her look good.
Really
good, Harper mused, fingering a lime green miniskirt that she knew would show off her tan

—and potential y, depending on how far she bent over, a lot more.

It was simple. Harper wanted Adam—and Harper always got what she wanted.

It was just a matter of figuring out how.

SEVEN DEADLY SINS

Lust

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON PULSE

An imprint of Simon & Schuster

Children’s Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

Copyright © 2005 by Robin Wasserman

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Designed by Ann Zeak

The text of this book was set in Bembo.

First Simon Pulse edition October 2005

Library of Congress Control Number 2005920706

eISBN 978-1-43910-864-2

For Susie

This momentary joy breeds months of pain;

This hot desire converts to cold disdain.

—Wil iam Shakespeare, “The Rape of Lucrece”

Don’t put me off, ’cause I’m on fire,

And I can’t quench my desire.

Don’t you know that I’m burning up for your love,

You’re not convinced that that is enough.

—Madonna, “Burning Up”

“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. Al but Miranda, who rol ed her eyes and—just barely—stifled a snort. Harper had already given her best friend the ful download on this guy, so she knew very wel that the previous evening’s encounter had been nothing if not nasty, brutish, and (perhaps merciful y) short.

But Harper knew Miranda would keep her mouth shut. After al , 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 hal mark 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 hel 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 al 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 al summer, setting up shop in Harpers backyard—and given that the rest of the week was general y fil ed 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 hil s 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 periodical y 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 stil bore down on them from a cloudless sky, mixing with their careful y applied sunscreen to create the picture-perfect tan. The day was hot, the drinks were cool, and it was stil summer. At least for now.

“But the real y unbelievable thing—,” Harper began again, then stopped abruptly. “Aren’t you a little old for the Peeping Tom act?” she cal ed 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 ful y 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 frantical y 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 bel rings.”

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

“Nice to see you, too,” Beth giggled. “Now get out of here so that Harper can finish tel ing 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 al 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 al the men—but coming out of Beth’s mouth, it just made Harper sound like … wel … a slut.