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Palm Beach? Christmas? Five grand? A jet? Where did they sign?

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p diddy knows how to throw a party

It was time for P. Diddy's annual Labor Day White Party, the last big bash before the summer was over. Eliza had worked the phones for three days straight, trying to make sure they all got invitations. Kit had come through again, and Lucky Yap had sent over a couple, so they were all covered.

Mara hung out in Ryan's room, watching him change into a white linen suit. He buttoned up his shirt in the mirror and caught her eye.

"What are you looking at?"

"My gorgeous boyfrie--" she answered, then caught herself. Did she just say THAT WORD? How could she do that? She didn't even know what he thought they were doing. Maybe they were just fooling around. Certainly she didn't want to label their relationship so early.

Seeing the distress on her face and knowing what put it there, Ryan turned and climbed up on the bed, then crawled up to kiss her on the cheek.

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"I'd rather look at my gorgeous girlfriend," he whispered. Mara leaned back, pulling him closer, tugging on the rawhide

necklace he alway

s wore around his neck. The pillows were still

warm from their earlier activities.

Ryan kissed her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. "Maybe we shouldn't get dressed yet," he murmured.

"Maybe not," she agreed.

Eliza looked at her closet askance. How could this be? Everything white that she owned was dirty, or yellowed, or stained. She had absolutely nothing to wear to the biggest party of the season.

Or did she ...

She walked furtively to the main house. The diaphanous white Versace dress Sugar had asked her to send to the cleaners earlier that week was still hanging in her walk-in closet, waiting to be worn. But Sugar wasn't going to get back from her bikini wax for a while yet.

Sugar would just look washed out in it, Eliza thought. Really, I'm doing her a favor.

Eliza grabbed the dress. It was her last night in town. And didn't she deserve to wear it? She was the one who had taken such good care of it all summer.

Jacqui yawned as she put on her white shirt and a calf-length skirt. The most conservative outfit she owned. For once she

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didn't feel like attracting any attention to herself. Guys were just too much trouble these days. She was enjoying being single.

The group met at the driveway. Mara and Ryan walked out of the main house, holding hands, apple cheeked and glowing in their matching white pantsuits.

Eliza met them at the door in the borrowed (fine, stolen) Versace.

"Isn't that ... ," Ryan asked, thinking the dress looked familiar.

"It's mine," Eliza declared. At least for the night. If she couldn't have Jeremy, she could at least have a Versace dress.

Jacqui walked up from the garden pathway, looking devastating in her "conservative" outfit. "Everybody ready?" she asked.

Mara and Ryan took the Aston Martin, and Eliza and Jacqui thought it would be fun to ride in on the Vespas. It beat having to worry about parking.

They drove to an imposing modern mansion on Settlers Landing with P. Diddy's initials carved into the wrought iron gates. Several billowing white tents were set up near the entrance to facilitate the guest check-in.

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