twisted-9

Seduction and Secrets
Spencer stood at the back of the Kahns’ smorgasbord line, eyeing the food spread. Some of this crap looked like cat vomit. And who in their right mind
drank soured milk?
Two hands grabbed her shoulders. “Surprise,” Zach Pennythistle said, waving an uncorked amber-colored bottle in her face. Inside was a greenish liquid
that smelled like nail polish remover.
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”
“Traditional Finnish schnapps.” He poured a few slugs into two foam cups from the stack on the table. “I snuck it from the bar cart when no one was
looking.”
“Bad boy!” Spencer shook her finger at him. “Are you always so deviant?”
“It’s why I’m the black sheep of my family,” Zach teased, lowering his dark eyes at her, which made Spencer’s insides whirl.
She was thrilled Zach had accepted her invitation to the smorgasbord party tonight. Ever since the dinner at The Goshen Inn on Sunday, she couldn’t stop
thinking of their fun, flirty banter. Even after they’d sat down at the table with the rest of the family, they’d continued to shoot one another feisty looks and
secret smiles.
They drifted through the living room and set up camp on the Kahns’ stairs. The party was getting raucous, with a bunch of Rosewood Day kids Irish-jigging
to the polka music in the Kahns’ enormous living room and some of the adults already slurring their words. “I usually don’t peg Harvard boys as the black
sheep of their families,” Spencer said to Zach, picking up on their previous conversation.
Zach sat back, frowning. “Where’d you hear I was going to Harvard?”
Spencer blinked. “Your dad said so at dinner. Before I found you at the bar.”
“Of course he did.” Zach took a long drink of his schnapps. “To tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure Harvard and I are a match made in heaven. I have my
eye on either Berkeley or Columbia. Not that he knows that, of course.”
Spencer raised her glass. “Well, here’s to getting what you want.”
Zach smiled. “I always get what I want,” he said meaningfully, which sent more tingles up her spine. Something was going to happen between them
tonight. Spencer could just feel it.
“Is that booze?” cried an outraged voice. Zach’s sister, Amelia, emerged from around the corner with a plate full of food.
Spencer sighed and shut her eyes.
Did Amelia even want to be here? A hideous scowl had settled over her features as soon as she’d stepped through the Kahns’ door. When Mrs. Kahn put
on a traditional Finnish folk dance song, Amelia had actually winced and covered her ears.
“Want some?” Zach pushed his cup toward Amelia. “It tastes like peppermint patties, your favorite!”
Amelia moved away, making a face. “No thanks.” Her idea of party wear was a striped Brooks Brothers button-down tucked very tightly into a denim
pencil skirt that fell to her knees. She looked exactly like Mrs. Ulster, Spencer’s substitute Calc II teacher.
Amelia leaned against the banister and glowered at the Rosewood residents. “So are these people your friends?” She said friends like she might have
said bedbug-infested mattresses.
Spencer surveyed the crowd. Most of the Rosewood Day senior class had been invited, as well as a smattering of the Kahns’ society friends. “Well, they
all go to my school.”
Amelia made a dismissive uch. “They seem really lame. Especially the girls.”
Spencer flinched. Other than Kelsey, she hadn’t hung out with St. Agnes girls in ages. But she had been to a couple of their parties back in middle school;
each clique named themselves after a European princess or queen—there were the Queen Sofias of Spain, the Princess Olgas of Greece, and the
Charlottes of Monaco, daughter of Princess Carolina. Hello, lameness?
Zach drained the rest of his drink and set his cup on the stairs. “Oh, these girls look like they might have some dirty little secrets up their sleeves.”
“How can you tell?” Spencer teased.
“It’s all about watching people, noticing what they do. Like when I met you at the restaurant on Sunday—I knew you were in the bar area because you were
escaping from someone. Taking a breather.”
Spencer gave him a playful slap. “You’re such a liar.”
Zach crossed his arms over his chest. “Wanna bet? There’s this game I sometimes play called She’s Not What She Seems. I bet I can suss out more
secrets than you can.”
Spencer flinched for a moment at the name of the game. For some reason, it reminded her of the postcard they’d received last night. Even though
Spencer pretended it didn’t matter, flickers of anxiety threatened to ignite inside of her. Could someone know about Jamaica? A lot of people had been
staying at the resort—Noel, Mike, that group of kids from California they’d gone surfing with, some party-crazy boys from England, and of course the staff
—but Spencer and the others looked up and down the dark beach after everything had happened and hadn’t seen a soul. It was like they were the last
people on earth. Unless . . .