Abi layed on the chaise barely noticing the heat. Absently she rubbed tanning oil on her arms, chest and legs, but her thoughts were far away. On Andy. She was running out of time. The Scodelario's always threw a huge, end-of-the-summer barbecue at their home. Not only were The Businessman's business associates from all over the county invited, but the dignitaries from Hollywood, civic leaders and anyone worth their salt in Malibu were on the guest list. It was, aside from Christian Bale's Christmas party, the event of the year.

Abi had been ducking offers from several boys including Jimmy and Adam because she had planned to go with Andy. Smiling, she thought of the tongues that would wag, the eyebrows that would raise, the shocked gasps that would be swiftly covered with hands when she showed up with her arm linked through Andy Biersack's.

A lot of women, whether that they admitted it or not, would be jealous; others would be stunned. She would certainly be the center of attention, and everyone would assume that she'd been seeing Andy for weeks . . . just long enough. But she couldn't waste any more time.

She wiped off the excess tanning oil with a towel, then slid on a pair of shorts. Slipping her arms though a gauzy white blouse, she didn't bother with buttons, letting the front gape open, then rolled up her sleeves.

As she walked into a pair of flip-flops, she unsnappped the band holding her hair away from her face and gave the thick waves a toss so that blue curls framed her eyes and cheeks and cascaded in tumbled disarray down the middle of her back.

She'd run out of excuses to hang out at the stable, and short of asking Andy for riding lessons, she didn't have a reason to loiter without looking too obvious. She couldn't appear desperate . . . just mildly interested. She could ask him to take her into town, or fix the rattle in her car, or go riding with her . . .

Never in her life had she had so much trouble getting a man to notice her; usually she had the opposite problem, but Andy was different from any man she'd met in California. Though she'd spent all four of her highschool years boarding St. Therese's, an all-girls Catholic school, she'd had ample opportunity to meet boys from Jesuit and Central Catholic as well as male students who attended Santa Barbara University.

At the door of the stable she paused, dabbed at her lipstick and walked inside. Her nostrils curled at the harsh odors of urine and manure. And there was something else within the hot shadowy interior. Something out of place. Something that caused the hairs on the back of her neck to lift one by one.

"Andy?" she called out in the interior gloom. "Andy? You in here?" Sweat collected on her spine and she felt suddenly nervous. Edgy.

She strained to listen, but all she heard was quiet nickers and snorts and the rustle of hooves in straw. From the corner of her eye, she saw a movement. Her heart jumped. She stumbled back, nearly falling as she turned to find Max standing near an open barrel of oats. He was holding a bridle and was staring at her with unreadable blue eyes. "Jesus, Max, you scared the hell out of me!"

He licked his lips nervously. "Sorry."

"You know where Andy is?" Angrily she dusted her hands. His eyebrows drew together in concentration, and Alli wanted to shake him. Half the time he was dumb as stone, stammering and avoiding answering questions and looking all embarrassed. Other times he seemed sharp as a tack, smarter than a lot of ranch hands, and Alli wondered just how stupid he really was. It was almost as if he used his handicap to his advantage. But he couldn't, could he?
"Mac's out with the cows."

"I'm not interested in Mac. I asked about Andy."

Max worried his lip and looked away. His hair was deep shade of brown now, but it was dull and unkempt and curled randomly. His eyes were an unsettling hue of somewhere between gray and blue. "Andy's working."

"I know that."

"He don't like to be bothered."

"It's alright, Max." Alli sighed inwardly and too a step closer to the half-wit. "I need to see him," she said in a soft, cajoling voice.

"Why?"

Damn, the big moron was irritating, but there was no reason she couldn't have a little fun with him. She placed her hands on her hips, outlining her small waist and thrusting out her chest. She saw the flicker of interest in Max's eyes, how he glanced at her cleavage, then looked up at the rafters to avoid staring. She sauntered up to him. "Come on, Max," she cooed. "I don't have all day. Now"---she touched his dirty shirt on the sleeve---"where's Andy?"

Max's Adam's apple bobbed, and suddenly the stable seemed close and hot. He looking into her eyes, and she felt a little trill of fear and anticipation, for her didn't bother hiding his lust anymore and she wondered if this time she'd pushed him too far. He was, after all, a man, a young, physically strong and healthy man. From the darkness of beard shadow, the breadth of his shoulders and the curling hairs that sprang from beneath his work shirt, there was little doubt that he was a fully developed male.

"What do you want?' he said in a rasping whisper so low that Abi's heart began to knock. His eyes seemed unconfused and bright with challenge. She cleared her throat and stepped away from him, afraid of her own sexual power and his response--a response that would be purely animal and savage. Her mind clicked forward and she realized that Max, poor, dumb Max, just might be able to help her. Thoughts like these were dangerous.

"I just need to talk to Max."

"Then you find him." Max, his breathing uneven, stepped away from her, his fingers curling over the bit of bridle he'd been trying to fix. He walked quickly away, nearly stumbling on a rake, looking as if he was suddenly scared as she was.

"Damn it," she mumbled once he was gone. Sweat beaded across her brow and her hands shook. She'd have to be more careful in the future. Max wasn't the silly innocent he seemed. She remembered the day by the pool, when Kaya had taken off her shirt and flashed Maxt a glimpse of her breasts. The half-brain had gotten a good look. He'd probably hidden in the woods, closed his eyes and brought up the memory of Kaya as he jacked himself off. Or had he been thinking of her?

Unable to shake the feeling that she'd inadvertently stepped over the threshold of a dangerous door that might never close again, she spent fifteen minutes searching the barns with renewed determination. She'd just about given up; Andy could be anywhere on the ranch, checking the fence line or herding the cattle acres away, clearing the brush on the north side or with one of the hands picking up supplies.

Frustrated, Abi held her hair off her shoulders, hoping the breeze on her neck would cool her off. When she walked past the machine shed, she found Andy inside, twirling a tire in a trough of water, obviously searching for a leak in the thick black rubber. The trough was really an old oil barrel, cut in half and mounted on iron legs, the edges smoothed by a blowtorch, a pipe running from below to the drainage ditch, a hose hooked to an exterior faucet. Andy's sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his shirt open, his brows slammed together in concentration.

If he heard her approach, he didn't acknowledge it and only lifted his hand when her shadow fell across the trough. Air hissed from the tire and he marked the black rubber with chalk.

"I thought you were supposed to be working with the horses," she said, leaning on her back against the brick wall of the shed. Heat from the sun had settled in the red bricks ad then radiated outward to warm her skin.

"Didn't know you kept tabs on me."

Lifting a dismissive shoulder, she said, "I don't."

"Good." He turned back to his work and snagged a dirty rag from his back pocket. "Then you weren't looking for me."

"Not really."

He straightened and his cocky smile called her a liar. "Funny. I thought you were looking for somebody the way you were wandering through the barns and sheds. Thought it would be me."

"Don't flatter yourself."

He let out a deep chuckle that rankled her. "I never do and still don't." Swinging the tire over his shoulder, he headed into the interior of the machine shed and Abi, though she would have loved to toss her head and walk proudly away, followed him inside.

"Why do you hate me?" she asked, once they were alone in the building. She managed a petulant look as sunlight streamed through the doorway and a few small windows, but the hot interior was shaded and private. The smells of oil and grease lingered in the air.

Andy hauled the tire onto a workbench and was reaching for some kind of patch. "Hate you?" he repeated, glancing over his shoudler. "Now what gave you that idea?"

"You avoid me."

"I have work to do."

"You talk to L.K."

"She's interested in the horses," he said quickly, but his jaw seemed to tighten a bit.

"Maybe she's interested in you."

"She's just a kid."

"Sixteen."

"As I said, a kid."

"Is that what you think of me?"

He let out a little laugh, and his gaze skated up the length of her full hips, the feminine curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts straining beneath her open bloused as they pressed against the black top of her swimsuit. Sweat seemed to collect in that dusky hollow of Abi's throat where Andy's cynical gaze lingered for an instant. "Nobody would mistake you for a kid, Abi, but you are one. You're younger than Alex is." He threw out a hip and reached in his pocket of his shirt for his pack of Camels. "Just what is it you want from me?" he asked, clicking his lighter and drawing a deep lungful of smoke.

She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a long drag herself, leaving a lipstick print on the white paper and letting the smoke drift from her nostrils, the way she'd seen Bette Davis do in some old movie. "Why do you think I want something?" She tossed her hair and handed him the cigarette.

"It's in your nature."

"You don't know me." She let her lower lip protrude just a fraction.

"I know enough."

Oh, God, he was shutting her down! No boy had ever shut her down. Most of them were panting after her and she, a tease and flirt by nature, loved the sick kind of desire that smoldered in their eyes. But Andy was different, and beneath her need to have him want her, anger sparkled through her blood. He, the son of a runaway sawmill worker and some crazy woman, had the nerve to act as if he didn't feel lust crawling though his blood. Well, she knew better. "Wouldn't you like to get to know me just a little better?" she asked, stepping close enough so that when he looked down at her, he had to see her cleavage.

With the cigarette burning from the corner of his mouth, he seemed almost unapproachable, like some hard-assed range cowboy. He squinted through the smoke, but he didn't back away. "No, lady, I don't. I've got a job to do, if you'll excuse me."

This wasn't working. He wasn't going to fall for blantant seduction, so she backed off quickly and turned around. "Look . . . I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to . . . well, to look like I was coming on to you."

"Weren't you?"

When she turned around again, she'd changed her expression. "I . . . I want to be your friend. The boys my age bore me, and frankly, they're a pain in the backside." She looked up at him, and her eyes were no longer half-mast. "I guess I thought acting like . . . well, like that was the way to get your attention. I, um, need someone like you." Andy lifted an eyebrow and knew it was all an act, but didn't pay mind to tell her any of the sort. Anger sparked through him as if finally realizing that she was just trying to get to him by playing some sort of game. He couldn't help but think slut. All he did was snort and turned his eyes back to the tire.

"Jimmy and Adam are giving me a hard time."

"They are?"

"I told you about the bet."

A look of contempt crossed Andy's handsome features. "I thought you were kidding."

"No," she sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I know that sometimes people think I'm . . . well, a flirt, and I suppose I am, but I don't sleep with boys, and because I'm who I am, you know, Christian Bale's daughter, I'm kind of a target, I guess. I've heard that the locker-room talk is who's going to do Abigail Bale first. That's why Christian sent me to the all-girl school. At least one of the reasons. But now that I'm finished with highschool and going on to college, the big talk in town is the same old disgusting question."

Andy's face remained impassive, almost as if he suspected she was lying. "So anyway, I thought maybe I could become your friend and because you're . . . well, a little bit . . . tougher, I guess is the right word . . . the other guys would back off."

He tossed his cigarette onto the floor and ground it with his foot, didn't even bother taking another drag after Abi did. "You know, Abi, not many women want me for their friend. Men and women . . . as friends . . . somehow it doesn't work out."

"Can't we rise above it?" she asked and impulsively stood on her tiptoes, brushing the side of his cheek with her lips. Without even seeing his reaction, she ran through the shed's open door and noticed a shadow move quickly around the side of the old building. Abi felt a coldness seep into her blood. Probably Max again. God, that idiot was giving her the creeps. She shivered. She couldn't imagine why her father didn't just get rid of him. But then Christian was always partial to hard-luck stories, Andy being a case in point.

---

I watched from the shadows.

Standing behind the Bale house, hidden by the thick cover of leafy shrubs and trees while twilight settled onto the huge home, I stared up at the windows, bright patches against a hot, dense night.

She was in the house, or so it appeared as her bedroom light was on . . . yes, I knew where all the rooms were and I glanced from the master bedroom with its bank of windows to the smaller dormers of the rooms that house the members of their small, blended family.

Alex's room was the farthest down the hall, and through the open blinds, I noticed papers of football players and long-legged, big-breasted models or porno stars, leaning over with come-hither eyes and wet lips. A tight ball of nervousness and lust tightened in my gut as my gaze traveled to L.K's room, which was now dark, probably empty. I glanced around quickly because L.K was known to leave the house and hang out at the stable. My eyes searched the darkness, but I saw nothing. No movement. No sound of her quiet whistling under her breath.

No sign of her.

Good.

My tense muscles relaxed a little until I looked up again and centered my attention on Abi's room. And there she was suddenly, seated on the window ledge and staring up at the sky, maybe watching the moon rise. She was silhouetted by the light from her desk, a black, curvy shadow against a golden lamp. Her gaze lowered and searched the darkness. As if sensing I was near.

My muscles tightened, and for a second I thought our gazes locked, mine desperate and determined from my hiding spot in the dense foilage, hers wide and wondering, a little suspicious as she eyed the shadows. I didn't breathe. Go ahead and look, you bitch. Try and see me. Try to figure out what's going to happen.

Finally, she looked away. Closed the window. Pulled down the shade as if to keep my gaze from wandering where it shouldn't. Which was stupid. I took a chance. Reached into my pocket and found my lighter. Then I held it to my nose and flicked it on, peering through the tiny flame, centering it on her window and the dusky silhouette beyond the shade.

Feel this, Abi?

Imagine it touching your skin, catching in your hair. I smiled in the darkness, the flickering flame shifting before my eyes as I thought of her and what would happen to that beautiful, taut body.

Soon, it would be reduced to ashes.

---

Abi shivered and rubbed her arms despite the heat of the night. She glanced at the window, closed tight, shade drawn, and told herself she was being a ninny. A fool.

No one was watching her out there in the trees surrounding the lawn. No one was plotting to harm her. The worst thing that could have happened was that retard Max was skulking about again.

She felt a twinge of regret at her unkind thoughts about him. It wasn't his fault that he was a few cards shy of a full deck. And hadn't she seen the way he'd looked at her the other day when she touched his sleeve? She'd had a glimmer that he wasn't as stupid as he let on, that he knew far more about what was going on at the Balet estate than anyone else, and that his dumb, poor town idiot routine might well be an act.

He was, after all, a man.

So she should be careful around him.

As should L.K and Kaya and even Martina. Who knew what thoughts traveled through Max's weak brain. She grinned at the thought of Max and Martina, then shoved the ridiculous image aside. She had more to worry about than creating her own personal boogeyman in the woods. Lots more. She had to concentrate.

Flopping onto her bed, she grabbed a heart-shaped pillow and held it to her breast. Tears threatened her eyes and she bit her lip. This was not the time to break down. She sighed and began putting final touches on her plan and tamped down the rising sense of dread, the panic that was lately consuming her. Glancing at the calender posted above her desk, she cringed. She was running out of time.

---

"I don't think it's right, that's all I'm saying, Christian." Martina looked at herself in the mirror over the sink in the master bedroom and frowned at the gray roots that were beginning to show starkly against her dark hair. She had always been proud of her tresses, and now even they were beginning to turn on her, along with her face and neck, both of which showed far too many wrinkles and the bags under her eyes--well, it was small wonder she looked so strained, worried as she was about her sons and daughter. How she'd be able to make herself radiant for the Scodelario's barbecue next weekend nagged at her. She needed a new dress, shoes and a little more than cosmetic surgery. She finished brushing her hair and picked up her pack of cigarettes. "Why you hired that riffraff is beyond me."

Christian stood behind the partially closed door to the walk-in closet. "Andy needed a job. He's damn good with the horses, and Lindsay's colt already threw her once. Didn't want to take another chance."

"But you don't mind taking a chance with that Biersack boy. And Abi and L.K." She saw him out of the corner of her eye, hanging up his robe. Standing in his boxer shorts, he was still an imposing man. Oh, he sagged a little around the middle, but his muscles still showed under his skin and his legs didn't have an ounce of fat thanks to hours spent on the golf course. His hair was still the same color as years before, but more white showing which was in sharp contrast to his eyebrows, and his face, tanned from his days on the links, was handsome, even chiseled, except for the line of his jaw where the beginning of jowls had already made themselves evident. Aging was a bitch. She lit up and noticed the tiny lines surrounding her lips as she sucked on her cigarette.

"I'm not taking a chance on Lindsay and Abigail. What're you talking about?" He threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt--the common locker-roon garb instead of the burgundy velour jogging suit she'd bought him for their last year anniversary. But she didn't have time to argue with him about that now; besides, no one would see him and she had other problems on her mind--big problems concerning Andy Biersack. Eva's wild boy.

Martina wouldn't have like Christian hiring Ashley, Eva's other boy, but she could have understood it; Ashley, from what the gossip mill churned out. was responsible, cared about his future, kept his nose clean and knew his station. At least he tried to do the right thing. But Andy--well, the common expression was that he was hell on wheels and had no respect for anything or anyone. He wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle, for God's sake, like some kind of hoodlum or Hell's Angel. She shuddered deep in the folds of her silk robe. And Christian wasn't worried. This was no time for delicacies. Sometime the only way to get through her bullheaded husband was to hit him over the head with a verbal baseball hat. "It was bad enough you hire that half-twit. The way he drools over them--"

"Look, Martina. I'm a respected member in the community, one of the richest men in California, and as such I have responsibilities to do some things that might not be economically sound--goodwill gestures. Then there's the church. Father James seems to think that . . . oh, hell, you wouldn't understand. The bottom line is that no one else will hire him and Max's a hard worker. Hasn't given me a lick of trouble." His jaw tightened stubbornly. Christian was proud of his philanthropy, and when it came to Max--the subject of firing him was and always would be taboo. Martina had learned that long ago when Christian had hired the moron. She'd had a fit then but her husband had been adamant. Several times since then, when tools or spare parts had been missing or stolen, she'd suggested Christian fire Max, but the subject was always closed. Christian wasn't about to give in.

She drew on her cigarette, didn't like the looks of herself in the mirror and squashed the damn Viceroy out in the silver tray near the sink. She had to quit. The lines around her eyes from squinting though smoke were becoming too noticeable. "Andy's got a reputation, you and I both know it. He drinks too much even though he's underage then gets into fights. He's been fired from God-only-knows how many jobs and beds any gender he can get his hands on."

"You don't know that. It's all small-town gossip."

"When there's smoke, there's fire, Chris Just remember his roots. He comes from trash."

"Eva--"

"Is trash and her husband, or ex-husband, wasn't much better. A drunk with a bad temper." She turned away from the sink and glared at her husband. "The more you do for that family, the more rumors about you . . ." Her voice failed her, and she shuddered.

"Again, it's just gossip."

"That I hear over and over. At the country club, while playing bridge, when I get my hair done, even after mass. I'm telling you, Chris, you've got to stop bending over backward for Eva and her boys!"

"I help other families as well. When husbands are out of work or little kids get sick--"

"--or nearly drown."

He stared at her hard. "That was a long time ago," he warned. "Eva needed help. Her husband walked out on her."

"I know and you know, but people still talk," she said, the ugly rumors always just under the surface of her consciousness. "It's bad enough you visit Monica's grave every week but--"

"Don't bring her into this," he commanded in the tone he reserved for her when he was partially angry, a belittling tone. She wouldn't push him about Monica, but she couldn't give up on the issue at hand.

"Look, Chris, you and I both know that the only thing Andy Biersack's got going for him is his good looks and the fact that he's shrewd as hell--he knows how to play people to get what he wants. Look how he played you."

"He didn't play me," Christian grumbled as he strode back to their bedroom.

She shot a look that silently called him a fool. "That boy knows exactly what he's doing, and mark my words, he's trouble, likes of which we've never seen." She slid into her pink slippers and padded after him. He was already seated on his stationary bike, pedaling madly, sweat breaking out across his forehead. The armoire was open, displaying the television, where beautiful women in police uniforms were doing menial tasks. Charlie's Angels, one of Christian's favorite programs about to be aired (not really his favorite). "I don't want L.K hanging around him. I think she's developing a crush on him."

"Lindsay? She's a kid."

"Have you taken a good look at her lately, Chris?" Martina asked, a little wounded. In Christian's opinion L.K would never be anything more than his second daughter, second best. He never said as much, but it was obvious in the subtle ways that Martina found so irritating and painful.

"She's not interested in boys."

"Not boys, she's interested in men. Andy. She can't stay away from him."

"That's because of his horse. It has nothing to do with Biersack."

"Open your eyes, Christian. She's sixteen and . . . well, I remember how I was at that age."

"You can't stop her from hanging out at the stable."

Martina sighed. "No, but I can keep an eye on her and see that she stays away from that white trash. As for Abi, God knows I can't control her, she's your baby-girl, but if I were you, I'd forbid her to go anywhere near him."

"She doesn't."

Martina shook her head. "I've never thought of you as a fool, Christian, but maybe I was wrong." She settled onto the king-size bed and plumped the pillows up against the headboard. Martina usually didn't criticize Abi because Christian adored the girl and treated her as if she were royalty. He was more flagrantly devoted to Abi than he was to L.K; it was obvious.Martina knew the reason why. Abi was Monica's daughter, and even though his first wife died years ago, Christian still revered her--lit candles for her at mass, talked and acted as if she were some kind of saint.

The woman had taken her own life and cheated on him, for crying out loud, and everyone knew those two concepts were a sin. But still Christian was faithful to Monica's memory and Martina was fairly concern, were she to die, Christian wouldn't go off lighting candles and saying prayers and worshipping her for nearly two decades. "Abi's a good girl. She's been at the catholic school for nearly years now, and the nuns have given her strong education. Don't worry about her." He was beginning to really sweat now, and the bicycle was whirring too loudly for him to hear the dialogue on the television. Before she could say a word, he clicked the remote and the television boomed a little louder through the bedroom.

---

"Is Alex home yet?" Abi, wearing a swimsuit covering up, her sandals dangling from her fingers, tiptoed through the door of L.K's room and plopped down onto the corner of the bed.

L.K was leafing though a magazine. "Don't know."

"He's out with Kaya, isn't he?" L.K lifted a shoulder. Ever since Abi had been on a campaign to win Andy's heart, L.K had found it difficult to be civil with her sister. Not that Andy wasn't old enough to know better, and rumor had it that he'd known plenty of women. But none so pretty nor with such a high social station as Abi, L.K decided. Abi would be hard--make that nearly impossible--for any man to resist. "Well, if he shows up here, will you cover for me?"

"Why?" L.K was instantly suspicious.

"He doesn't like me seeing Andy."

"See Andy--as in dating?" L.K said, astounded. Sure, Abi was way younger than the age limit for that, but if you're a Bale, anything could happen. L.K had known that Abi had been coming on to Andy, she'd even seen her buzz a kiss across Andy's cheek, but she'd hardly call it seeing Andy.

"Well, not really dating, at least not yet. But soon. I'm gonna ask him to take me to the Scodelario's barbeque at the Country Club. Wouldn't that tick a few people off?" She giggled and her eyes twinkled at the thought. "Anyway, I'm s'posed to meet him tonight down by the pool, and Christian and Martina, they'll be asleep as soon as the eleven o'clock news is over, so I shouldn't have to worry about them. The servants are all tucked away and you know what the deal is, so that only leaves Alex."

"Have you already asked Andy to the barbeque?" L.K felt her stomach knot.

"No, not yet."

"But you think he'll go."

"Of course he'll go. It's one of the biggest events of the season, and the poor kids in town are dying to be invited."

"It's hard to imagine Andy would care."

Abi's eyebrows quirked. "What's this, L? A little jealousy?"

" 'Course not,"

"Hmmm." Abi's full lips pulled into a knowing grin. "Well, he's got a brother, you know. Probably even more handsome than Andy. I know for a fact Ashley would cut off his right arm for an invitation to the party."

"So why don't you ask him?"

"Because he's too hungry. Too anxious and eager. Kind of like Jimmy and Adam. But Andy . . ." She stared through the open window and sighed loudly. "I guess I'm attracted to him because he's cocky and self-assured. So strong. He does what he wants when he wants and doesn't give a damn about the circumstances." Her face clouded over and she bit into her lower lip. "In some way we're a lot alike."

"You and Andy?" L.K snorted. "Give. Me. A. Break." Abi's touch of melancholy lasted only a second and was quickly replaced by a naughty smile that turned her sister's stomach.

Steaming inside, L.K aimed the remote control to the little television on her bureau. She needed noise--distraction--anything to keep her mind from running in the painfuly familiar circles it took when she thought of Andy and Abigail together. "So run interference for me, will you? If Alex--well, or anyone for that matter--starts asking questions, just turn on your desk lamp by the window and I'll get the message. Okay?"

"I don't know what good it will do."

"It's just a warning. Gives me time to head back to the house and come up with a logical story--you know, something about not being able to sleep and needing a midnight swim."

"Fine," L.K said without any inflection, though inside she was dying a thousand deaths.

Picking up her flip-flops, Abi slid off the bed and padded softly to the door. "Just remember the signal. That's all you have to do." She flashed L.K a brilliant smile. "I owe you one, L.K," she said, then opened the door so that it barely creaked. After checking the hallway, she disappeared and L.K was left with a feeling of incredible despair. She flipped through the channels but didn't see the images on the television screen. Instead, vivid pictures of Andy and Abi their bodies wet from swimming naked in the pool, boiled through her mind. She felt sick inside. Abi hadn't been kidding about Andy. She was going to seduce him. And Andy was eating it up!

Slamming her fist into the pillow, L.K stared out her open bedroom window to the dark sky, where stars winked in the dark heavens. A lazy half-moon hung low over the horizon. She rolled out of bed and gazed through the darkness. The breeze was warm though it was the coolest part of the day, and it whispered through her nightgown. She told herself it didn't matter, that what Andy did and whom was none of her business, but she hadn't been able to stop herself from watching in horrified fascination as Abi set her plan into motion.

For the first time in her life Abi had taken an interest in horses, and every time Andy was working with the stock, Abi found an excuse to hang around the stable and paddocks. She had learned to fold her arms over the top rail and talk to him, smile whenever he turned around and faced her, as well as stand as close to him as possible without touching when a fence didn't seperate them. She'd invited him swimming and riding, but he'd always decline, citing work, and secretly L.K had been triumphant. Maybe he wouldn't be tricked like all the other boys that seemed to swarm around the ranch like bothersome flies. The closer it got to the end of summer, the more boys came, as if they knew Abi would be out of reach come the end of September when she went off to college. L.K doubted Andy Biersack would be any different. Didn't he already have a reputation as a ladies' man, and didn't Abi always get what she wanted? She liked driving men to the point of distraction--Jimmy Sanchez and Adam were proof of her innate ability.

Glancing at the bed, L.K frowned. She couldn't sleep. It was too hot in her room, the bedsheets were cloying, her mind spinning with images of Andy and Abi. She had to do something, get out, away from the house. Then she knew. It had been over three weeks since she'd been thrown from Red and her shoulder was nearly back to normal. Andy had no intention of ever letting her ride her horse again, so she'd just have to do it behind his back. Served him right, anyway. The way he looked at Abigail!

And why should she stay and look out for her sister? Let her get caught for once. It was time their father, who worshipped the ground Abigail walked on, knew the real story. If Christian caught her with Andy, maybe Abi wouldn't be such a goddess in his eyes. Not that it mattered. L.K would never have wanted the kind of attention her father lavished on Abigail. She was content on who she was. doing what she did. She'd never been once jealous of Abi's position of princess--with the title that came too much pressure. No, L.K was comfortable with her relationship with her father, though she wished her mother, who was always pushing her to be more like her sister, would back off.

She threw on a pair of old skinny jeans, a short top that hit her ribs, and carried an old pair of converse in one hand as she slipped quietly from her room and down the back stairs. As she predicted, no one was up. L.K cringed as the screen's hinges squeaked loudly, and Rascal, her father's old border collie, lifted his head and gave one low, gruff bark. "Shh. It's only me." The dog wagged his tail, thumping it on the floorboards of the back porch. She thought of going directly to the stable, but paused in the shadows of a rhododendron. She wondered if Abi was bluffing. Crossing her fingers, she crept around the corner of the house and silently along a flagstone path that weaved through the rose garden still fragrant with heavy blossoms. After ducking under the arbor and down a few terraced steps, she was near the pool. The soft sound of a giggle rippled over the water, and as L.K's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Abi swimming gracefully and completely naked. Her tanned body was white where her suit usually covered her, and her clothes had been left carelessly on the edge of the pool.

L.K's heart seemed to fall to the ground as Abi swam through the water, sleek and feminine, so seductive. Bile climbed up L.K's throat. The scratch of a match being struck sizzled through the air, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The acrid smell of phosphorous wafted on a slow-moving breeze, and she knew with sickening certainty that Andy hadn't been able to ignore Abi's attempts at seduction. He'd come and he was here, watching her display.

She scanned the patio surrounding the pool and found him, standing near the diving board, the toes of his cowboy boots jutting over the water. The angles of his face were illuminated in gold as he bent down, cupped the end of his cigarette and lit up. Inhaling deeply, he waved out the match, and that tiny flame of light disappeared. Abi broke the silence just beneath his feet. She tried to cover herself while treading water but it was impossible. Glimpses of her body escaped.

"I . . . I didn't expect you so early," she said, her voice in a whisper. He checked his watch but didn't say a word. Just smoked. "Just give me a minute to get into my clothes." She swam to the side of the pool, hoisted herself out of the water, shook her hair and stepped quickly into her suit and cover-up, as if she were truly embarrassed.

Heart pounding, L.K watched as Abi walked back up to Andy and threw out a hip. "What is it you want?" he asked.

Abi grinned up at him. "Lots of things." Bold enough to touch him on the forearm, she sighed.
He grabbed her quickly, holding her at arm's length as he glowered at her. "Maybe you'd better stop playing games. You said you wanted to meet me, that it was important."

"I need a date," she blurted out.

He snorted. "A date? You? You've got more dates than your old man has mill workers."

"I know, but this is special and I don't want to go with just anyone." Tossing her damp hair off her face, she stared up at him. her face clearly luminescent in the moonlight. "I want you to take me to the Scodelario's barbeque." She wound her arms around his neck and sighed. "It's a big deal and I can't stand the thought of going with one of the boys." She stood on her tiptoes, grabbed the cigarette from his lips and tossed it onto the wet cement surrounding the pool. The ashes sizzled before dying. Brushing her lips slowly over his, she said, "Come on, Andy. Wouldn't you love it? It would be kind of like crashing a party, and not just any party. This is a major social event."

"Except I'd be with you," he said warily.

Her smile flashed in the night. "Would that be so bad? You'd be the envy of every boy in town."

"Maybe I don't give a damn about that."

"And maybe you do," she whispered before kissing him again. This time he didn't resist. The arms that had held her at bay surrounded her, yanking her willing body close to his. He let out a low, deep growl that caused L.K's blood to tingle as he kissed Abi with an angry ferocity that was pure animal lust.

L.K had to bite back the little squeak of protest that rose in her throat as Abi wrapped a calf around his leg. Her foot caught on a root and she stumbled, her injured arm shoulder slamming against a tree. Pain jolted up her arm, but she kept running, trying to ignore the dampness on her cheeks. Foolishly, she'd begun to cry. Over Andy Biersack. Who thought of her as a pesky little kid. Rage and impotence swept through her, and she knew what she had to do. Let Andy and Abi make out and do whatever they wanted; it didn't matter. But L.K was done waiting around and playing spy on her sister. She raced though the shadows to the stable. Though her shoulder still ached a little, she was certain she could handle Red, and she was going to ride that colt so fast the images of Andy and Abi would be forced out of her mind.

From this moment on, she didn't care what they did. Yet as she opened the door to the stable, she wished that she was the one in Andy's arms, that she was kissing him, that she was feeling the hard weight of his body pinning her to the ground. Because, unlike Abigail, L.K, at sixteen, was certain she was in love with Andy Biersack and she hated herself for it.

Notes