Sunset.

Sunset Kiss Bennett, Cherie.

ONE

"Is this the coolest, or what?" Carrie Alden asked as she stood backstage at the Sunset IsIand Arts Pavilion.

"This is beyond cool," laughed Sam Bridges, tossing back her wild red mane.

"It's like some kind of unreal MTV dream. I always knew my first summer out of high school would be a blast, but this summer is turning out to be even more amazing than I imagined." Carrie smiled at her friend. She was right. This did seem like some kind of wonderful dream. A mere three weeks before, she would never have expected to be backstage at a Graham Perry concert-as Graham Perry's personal guest! On every side of her, people worked feverishly. The sound system was being checked and the lights adjusted, instruments were being tuned and retuned. The energy level was so high! Carrie felt that if she reached out, she might actually feel the air crackle with electricity.

"Ooh! Ooh!" Sam jabbed Carrie's shoulder. "You're missing a hot photo op."

Carrie's hands flew to the camera she wore around her neck. It wasn't every day an aspiring photographer got backstage pa.s.ses to a Graham Perry concert. Carrie was determined to make the most of the opportunity. Maybe she'd even get shots good enough to sell to Rolling Stone.

Following Sam's gaze, Carrie focused her camera. This was a great shot. Graham stood just offstage, going over some notes with his band. The amber overhead light threw dramatic shadows on the rock superstar's handsome face. His expression was concentrated, intense-not the usual easygoing, smiling face he showed to the public. It revealed the demanding professional beneath the casual it's-so-easy facade. And Carrie was talented enough to know instinctively that photography was more than mere image. A great photographer used the camera to unveil the hidden truth lurking just beneath the surface of the image.

Carrie composed the shot and then snapped quickly, shooting from three slightly different angles. "That's going to be a really interesting photo of Graham!" she said. "Thanks for pointing it out. You have a terrific eye." "No, no, noooooo!"

Sam chided. "I wasn't talking about Graham. You already have a zillion pictures of him. I was talking about that picture." Sam pointed onstage to where the warmup band, Flirting with Danger, was already set up. With their backs to the girls, the lead singer, Billy Sampson, and the ba.s.s guitarist, Presley Travis, were deep in conversation.

Sam touched her thumbs together and framed out the picture for Carrie. "I even know what you could call this photo. 'Hot Buns in Conference.'" "Sam! You are so bad," Carrie said as she snapped the photo.

"Maybe, but you did take the picture, didn't you?" Sam teased.

"What I'm doing is sort of a photographic essay," Carrie said carefully. "The warmup band is part of the story, too." "Yeah, right," Sam told her. "It couldn't be that you'd like to do some flirting of your own with the lead singer. Oh no." Sam snorted.

Carrie tried to look casual, but couldn't help the faint blush that rose in her face. "Like the kind of flirting you do with Presley?" she said. "No way. I could never be so bold." "Don't worry, I'll be happy to give you lessons," Sam said. "This summer is as good a time as any for you to come out of that demure sh.e.l.l and be all the vixen you can be." "Oh, Sam," Carrie said, laughing. "You never give up." Still, she thought to herself, Sam's remarks had hit home. Her interest in Flirting with Danger was more than just professional. - Flirting with Danger was a local band on the isIand. Opening for Graham Perry that night might turn out to be their big break. The guys were nervous and exhilarated at the same time. They wanted to be sure everything was perfect.

"There must be music big shots in the audience tonight," Sam speculated. "All those honchos vacation around here. I'm sure they wouldn't miss their G.o.d, Graham Perry. Maybe one of them will pick up on the Flirts." "That would be great," Carrie agreed. "When they're big stars we can say we knew them when they were just a local band." "Yeah, and we'll have standing invitations backstage.

We'll go everywhere they go. Our pictures will be in People. We'll be famous, too," Sam said excitedly.

"Sam, we don't even know them very well," Carrie pointed out.

"Well, we'll just have to work on getting to know them better, won't we?" Sam said confidently. That was one of the things Carrie admired about her friend. To Sam everything seemed simple. If you wanted something, you went after it.

Simple.

Sam and Carrie knew Billy and Pres from around the isIand, though they'd met them only recently. Still, Pres had most definitely flirted back with Sam the last time they met. And Carrie knew Billy liked her. He'd even lent her the camera she was using that night, his new Canon EOS-. She was sure he wouldn't have done that for just anyone. What she didn't know was whether he liked her as a friend or if the attraction went deeper.

There was one thing Carrie did know: Billy Sampson turned her on. She'd felt it the minute they'd met in front of Wheels, the bike and moped rental shop.

Partly, it was his looks. He was tall, with long, sun-streaked, sandy blond hair, which he wore tied back in a ponytail, and big, soulful brown eyes. One ear was pierced with a small silver crescent-moon earring.

It was his looks that attracted her, but there was something else, too. Carrie had felt an immediate connection to Billy. It was hard to explain. It was definitely what people meant by "chemistry." As if he felt her watching him, Billy turned and looked toward Carrie. For a moment their eyes locked, and it was like a touch. A touch that sent an electrifying tingle through Carrie's entire body.

Then the moment was gone.

Billy smiled and waved. Carrie waved back. Did he feel that? Carrie wondered. Or is it just me? The connection seemed so real to her. He had to feel it, too.

At that moment a stunning blond girl in a red leather mini and matching short-cropped jacket joined Carrie and Sam, Sam stepped back and appraised the outfit. "All right! Princess Grace breaks out the red leather for the big night!" she cheered. "Way to go, Emma!" . ". Emma Cresswell blushed. "I figured if I'm ever going to wear this outfit again, tonight's the night. And stop calling me Princess Grace." "Why? She was beautiful, and you look just like her.

Did you ever see that Hitchc.o.c.k movie, Rear Window? Grace Kelly had such gorgeous clothes in that. It's, like, this ancient movie, but her clothes would be in style today. Weird." Sam's large blue eyes narrowed in thought for a moment. "I don't think Grace would have worn red leather, though." "Good," said Emma, lifting her delicate chin defiantly. "I don't want to look like Grace Kelly. I'm dumping the designer royalty look forever. From now on I'm burning."

"You're supposed to say burrmin' with kind of a s.e.xy growl, not burning as in 'Jeeves, I believe the chateau is burning down,'" Sam corrected her friend.

Emma's blue eyes went wide. "How did you know our butler's name is Jeeves? I don't remember telling you guys that." "I was kidding," replied Sam. "Jeeves is the name of the butler in practically every old movie." "Are you joking?" Carrie asked Emma incredulously. "Tell me you don't really have a butler named Jeeves."

"Sorry," said Emma with a rueful smile. "But that really is his name. Anyway, to change the subject-please, please let's change the subject- you ladies look extremely sizzling tonight yourselves." Sam spread her long arms wide to show off her black T-shirt dress. The sleeves had been cut into strips at the top of the arm. The strips were then beaded and knotted into fringe that fell from each sleeve. The same knotted, beaded fringe fell from the short hemline. With her characteristic flair for fashion, Sam had belted the dress with an Indian-beaded belt that showed off her slender waist to full advantage.

"Do you like it?" she asked. "The monsters and I sat on the porch last night and each made ourselves one. We cut the fringe, put the beads on, everything. Of course, mine came out much better than theirs did." The "monsters" were Becky and Allie Jacobs, thirteen-year-old identical twins whom Sam was taking care of this summer. "It doesn't look tacky or anything, does it?" Sam questioned, her brash, self-a.s.sured demeanor fading for just a moment.

"You look fabulous, as always," said Emma. Five feet ten inches and willowy, Sam rarely looked anything less than spectacular in whatever she wore. Her long, curly red hair and her beautiful, perfectly made-up face made Sam a knockout.

"Forget it," scoffed Carrie. "I'm not standing next to you guys anymore. I would have to pick two beauty queens to be my best friends. Good going, Carrie." "Get off it," said Sam. "You are seriously adorable and you know it. Or at least you should. And if I could just get the teeniest little bit of makeup on that Ivory-girl face, you'd have every guy on this isIand falling down stone dead in his tracks." "No thanks. That's not me," said Carrie lightly.

"Besides, I wouldn't want to have to step over all those dead bodies." Despite her joking manner, Carrie did hope she looked good that night. She'd combed out her long chestnut-brown hair until it shone and worn her best hammered-silver hoop earrings. She was wearing a calf-length, yellow-and-blue striped pinafore jumper over a yellow T-shirt with rolled sleeves. She'd liked the outfit when she put it on. Now she wondered if it looked babyish. "Does this really look okay?" she asked.

"It's summery and casual, but pretty. It's very you," Emma a.s.sured her. "You look like you've lived on Sunset IsIand all your life." "Thanks," said Carrie, turning back to watch the frenetic activity all around her.

"Let's see if we recognize anyone in the audience," Emma suggested. The girls walked to the front of the stage and parted the thick velvet curtains. The seats were filling up rapidly. "There are the Hewitts," said Emma, spotting Jane and Jeff Hewitt, the husband-and-wife law partners she worked for. "They seem so, you know, old to me. It's odd to think of them liking rock and roll." "I'll bet Graham Perry is somewhere around their age," Carrie reminded Emma.

"That's unbelievable," said Sam, shaking her head as though this was somehow sad news.

Unbelievable, Carrie echoed in her thoughts as she gazed out at the throng of people taking their seats. Yes, that was a pretty good word to describe all that had happened since they'd arrived on chic Sunset IsIand to work as au pairs for some of the wealthy families who vacationed there.

The first completely unbelievable thing was that Carrie had been hired by the Templetons- as in Claudia and Graham Perry Templeton. It turned out that Templeton was Graham Perry's real last name but Carrie hadn't known who her employers really were until she arrived on the isIand. Mr. Rudolph, the Templetons' business manager, had hired her at the au pair convention in New York.

The convention was actually a big weekend meeting held at a hotel. During the weekend, girls who wanted summer jobs as mother's helpers-also known as au pairs-had met prospective employers from all around the country. It was there that Carrie had been interviewed and hired by Mr. Rudolph. Now Carrie was living in a fabulous mansion, taking care of the rock star's two adorable children, and having the summer of her life.

The second unbelievably great thing to happen had also begun back at the au pair convention. Carrie had met Sam and Emma there. They'd become fast friends, deciding that they wanted to work together on gorgeous, beachy Sunset IsIand.

Luckily all three of them had been hired to work on the isIand. And in the two weeks since they had arrived, their friendship had really grown.

There had been a few hurdles. One major one, really. Just the week before, Sam and Carrie had discovered Emma's secret, which she'd been desperately trying to hide with a complicated web of lies and half-truths. Of course, when the secret is that you're one of the megarich and famous Boston Cresswells, it's kind of hard to hide it. Especially when a snotty rich girl on the isIand is determined to expose you. Discover your secret. Lorell CourtIand had hounded Emma from the minute she'd arrived, finally importing the meanest, sn.o.bbiest girl from Emma's boarding school to unmask Emma in front of her new-found friends. That had been a pretty ugly scene.

For a while Carrie and Sam had felt betrayed. Why had Emma lied to them? Did they really know her at all? But after Emma had explained how she was hoping to find herself-or at least redefine herself-without the trappings of her parents'

money and status, they forgave her. Emma had been truly contrite and there was no question that, aside from her amazing background, she was one of the nicest people around. No wonder she'd run like the blazes to get away from her family and all the sn.o.bby creeps like Lorell she'd been surrounded with all her life.

Now the threesome was back together and ready to "rave on," as Sam liked to say.

And now this, probably the most unbelievable thing. Taking pictures at a Graham Perry concert! Backstage! Just before coming to the isIand, Carrie had won second prize in the New Jersey State Teen Photographers Contest. She'd thought nothing could top that. But as far as she was concerned, this was even more thrilling.

"Look," said Sam, "isn't that the barracuda we saw at Howie Lawrence's party?"

Sam was looking in the direction of a long-legged young woman of about twenty with shoulder-length, s.h.a.ggy blond hair.

"Yeah," said Carrie. "She's the one who was all over Billy. What's she doing here?" "I don't know, but she's talking to Graham Perry's drummer and recording everything he says," noted Emma.

"Maybe she'll hit on him and leave Billy alone tonight," Carrie suggested hopefully.

"Speaking of incredible hunks, I do believe Billy is approaching," whispered Sam. "And so is his awesome companion, Pres." Sure enough, Billy and Pres were walking toward them. Quiet! Carrie commanded her heart, which had suddenly started beating like a jackhammer at top speed. Be cool, she ordered herself sternly.

"Hola, vixens. Que tal?" Pres greeted them in his sultry Southern voice.

"We vixens que tal just fine," laughed Sam flirtatiously.

How does she do it? Carrie wondered. Maybe in order to flirt so easily, you have to be born that way. In that case, I may as well just give up now.

Carrie raised her eyes and realized with a start that Billy was standing inches from her side. She smiled to cover her nervousness, and he grinned back. The easy banter going on between Sam and Pres continued, but Carrie wasn't paying attention.

"Hi," she said. I am so dull! she thought furiously.

Billy reached out a hand toward Carrie and for one crazy, paralyzing moment she wondered if he was going to touch her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Instead he touched the camera slung around her neck. Get a grip on yourself! Carrie counseled herself silently.

"How are you doing with that camera?" "It's great," Carrie replied sincerely.

"It practically does all the work for you. Thanks for letting me use it." "No problem. But remember, we made a deal. You get to use the camera in exchange for giving me some photography lessons. I'm all thumbs with that thing." "You'll pick it up quickly," said Carrie, glad to be talking about photography. At least it was a conversation she could feel comfortable with. "And I can show you anything else you need to do." "I'm sure you can," he said in a tone that implied he might not be talking about the camera anymore. His voice and the way his dark eyes took her in sent a delicious warmth coursing through her body. She met his gaze, and again she felt that wordless communication.

Carrie was so wrapped up in Billy that she hadn't noticed the approach of the blonde who'd been interviewing Graham Perry's drummer. But now the s.e.xy young woman stood right between Billy and Pres.

Up close she didn't look as naturally gorgeous as she had from a distance.

Still, she exuded s.e.xuality. Her hazel eyes were narrow despite their halo of heavy makeup and she had a sensual, too-wide mouth, which was painted a vivid red. She was slim and very obviously braless beneath her soft, clingy peach T-shirt. "Okay, Flirts, it's your turn," she said to the guys, completely ignoring Sam, Carrie, and Emma.

"Hey, Kristy," said Pres. "Are you going to make us famous?" "Sure am," Kristy cooed. She placed one hand on Billy's shoulder and leaned so close that her hair brushed his lips. "Sorry, darling," she said, pulling back as she picked at an invisible piece of lint on his black T-shirt. She didn't let go of Billy's shoulder, though.

Billy gently disengaged her fingers. "Kristy, I'd like you to meet Carrie, Sam, and Emma," he said pleasantly.

Kristy shot them a quick, insincere smile. "How nice," she said, barely shifting her gaze. "I'm sure you girls will excuse us, but we need privacy. I'd love to see your dressing room." She directed this last remark at Pres and Billy.

Pres looked amused, but also as if he was loving every minute of it. Billy was harder to read.

"Kristy writes the 'Around Town' column for the Breakers," he explained, naming Sunset IsIand's one and only newspaper.

"Oh yes, I've read your column," Emma said politely.

"Oh yes, everyone does," Kristy answered without the slightest attempt at modesty.

Billy looked at Carrie, laughter in his eyes. Was he laughing at Kristy? Carrie couldn't tell. "I guess we'd better go do this interview," he said. "We struggling musicians need all the exposure we ean get." Kristy walked her long fingernails down Billy's muscled arm. "Stick with me and I'll give you all the exposure you want," she purred.

"Well, then, let's go do it right now," said Pres. "We have to go on in about five minutes, so let's just stay close to the stage, okay?" "See you after we play, ladies," said Billy, letting Kristy drag him away.

"Can you believe she thinks everyone reads her column?" Carrie asked once they were by themselves. "I mean, Sunset IsIand is hardly the media capital of the world." "You were expecting modesty from someone in an outfit like that?" Sam asked.

"She's got a big ego, all right," Emma agreed.

"I wasn't talking about the size of her ego," Sam said pointedly.

"Do you think she's attractive?" Carrie wanted to know. The easy way Kristy had draped herself all over Billy bothered her more than she could admit, even to her friends.

"In a trashy way, I suppose," Emma conceded, wrinkling her nose daintily.

"Trashy!" Sam yelped. "Trashy is being kind. Try s.l.u.t queen supreme. I mean, she might as well be topless. It's kind of impossible for a guy not to notice that.

Hey, I could get guys to look at me, too, if I just took off my shirt." Sam grabbed at her T-shirt dress, and for a moment Carrie thought she was about to demonstrate her point. "Whoa! Down, girl," Carrie said, laughing despite herself. "We don't want you hauled out of here for indecent exposure." "They should haul off that Kristy for indecent everything," Emma said loyally.

Carrie tried not to stare as Kristy interviewed the band in an alcove just offstage. But it was hard not to. Kristy had perched herself on Billy's knee.

And while Billy didn't seem to be playing up to her, he wasn't b.u.mping her off his knee, either.

Suddenly Carrie felt horribly sick. Her stomach churned and a general feeling of anxiety washed over her. What a stupid twerp I am, she derided herself miserably. Why would Billy be interested in me when he has the Kristys of the world throwing themselves at him? Next to someone like that I look like some kind of overgrown Girl Scout.

"Don't let that man-eater get to you," Emma told her gently.

"Does it show?" asked Carrie.

"It's written all over your face," Sam confirmed.

"She is more his age," argued Carrie.

"Oh, bull," Sam said. "Where true love-not to mention true s.e.x-is concerned, there is no such thing as the right age." "Easy for you to say," Carrie murmured, unconvinced. She'd felt so young and gawky next to smooth, s.e.xy Kristy.

Just then the backstage lights dimmed and spotlights illuminated the stage.

Flirting with Danger sauntered to the wings. Jon Hess, the man in charge of the Arts Pavilion, went out to the center microphone. "And now, without further delay, here is Flirting with Danger!" he shouted.

The band members ran onstage amid enthusiastic applause and screams. They had a huge local following and all their biggest fans were in the audience that night.

They launched into a rousing, rocking tune, an original song called "Say What? U Lie," and had the crowd whipped up into a frenzy in seconds.

Before this, Carrie had only heard their demo tape. A friend named Howie Lawrence (who really wanted to be more than just a friend) had played it at a party. She'd liked their music then, but, seeing them live was an entirely different thing. They were explosive. Exciting. s.e.xy. Especially Billy.

"Who does he sound like?" asked Sam, who was gyrating to the music as she spoke.

"He sounds like somebody." "Jon Bon Jovi?" suggested Emma.

"A little, maybe," said Sam, "but I'm thinking of someone else. He sounds almost exactly like somebody else." "I know," said Carrie. "He sounds like that guy from that old group. The one who died." "Jim Morrison!" Emma recalled the name.

"My Aunt Liz has all the old Doors alb.u.ms. She's a major Doors fan. You're right. That's exactly who he sounds like." Carrie sighed. Hearing Billy sing had just put him right over the top on her personal s.e.x-appeal register. Before he sang he'd been a nine. Now he was a ten and a half. She closed her eyes and let his deep voice fill her senses. He had a voice full of experience. It was knowing, a little sad, and loaded with s.e.xual energy.