Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

“What was that for?” he whined.

  “I saw your finger twitch,” she pointed out. “It was a preemptive strike.”

  May sat down primly. Frankie and her brothers watched carefully, and the second the woman’s attention was on her plate, three middle fingers shot up around the table.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. When did you all turn into assholes?” Hugo sighed over his plate.

  “What? What did they do?” May demanded.

  “Nothing,” the three Baranski siblings announced.

  “You sure you want to deal with this?” Rachel asked Aiden from across the table. “There’s still time to get out.”

  Aiden turned his laugh into a discreet cough.

  “Don’t try to scare off the trillionaire. He’s Frankie’s last shot at non-test tube babies,” Marco joked.

  Aiden shot Marco the finger, and the table erupted in laughter. Except for May. She very calmly got out of her seat and smacked him upside the head.

  “Ma!” Franchesca was horrified.

  “I don’t care if Aiden is a trillionaire. No one flips the bird at my dinner table!”

  As soon as she glanced down at her plate, six middle fingers shot up.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When all was said and done, Frankie had to drive Aiden to her place in his car because he’d had one or three too many with her dad and idiot brothers. He was a sweet drunk, complimenting her on her braking and turn signals the whole eight blocks back to her place.

  Frankie slid the key in the lock and gave him a push into her apartment. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter and kicked off her shoes. “Well, that was eventful,” she announced.

  “I couldn’t tell. Did I pass?” he asked, sliding out of his coat and hanging it neatly on the dubious coat rack that leaned like the tower of Pisa.

  “Pass what?” Frankie asked, fishing two glasses out of the cabinet in her kitchen.

  “Your parents’ inspection.”

  She laughed. “My mother hit you upside the head. That’s a gold star seal of approval if there ever was one.”

  “That’s not what it sounded like from the kitchen.”

  Frankie handed him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. “You heard that, huh?” She curled up on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her.

  Aiden flopped down next to her and stared at the pills in his hand.

  “Go on. They always give me a headache,” Frankie joked.

  “You’re very thoughtful,” Aiden said, smiling sweetly at her.

  She indulged herself and ran the fingers of one hand through his thick hair.

  He leaned back against the couch cushion and closed his eyes. “Feels good,” he murmured.

  There was something irresistible about tipsy, vulnerable Aiden.

  “Do you really care if they like you?” she asked, wondering if he could be playing her.

  “Of course I do,” he said, lolling his head to one side to study her. “If they’re important to you, they’re important to me.”

  “Did you and my dad sneak into the bourbon?” Frankie asked.

  “Only one or two times,” Aiden said, listing toward her. “Hey, you know what I heard some people do on Sunday afternoons?”

  “Buy small countries?” Frankie offered. His head hit her in the chest and she continued the slow stroke of her fingers through his hair.

  “Ha. You’re funny. I heard some people nap.”

  She closed her fist in his hair and gave a tug until he was looking at her. “Have you never had a Sunday afternoon nap?”

  “Sure. When I was like three,” he smirked.

  “Sunday afternoon naps are the best. And if rich people can’t take them, I don’t ever want to be rich.”

  Aiden nestled into her, his face pressed against her breast. “Will you take a nap with me?”

  “Take your shoes off, Aide,” she told him.

  “’K.” He shoved his Ferragamo loafers off, and they hit the floor one at a time.

  “Are you always this adorable when you drink?” she teased, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch to cover him.

  “I drink too much,” he murmured. His eyes were closed.

  “You do?”

  “Self-medication.”

  “I’ve never seen you drunk before,” Frankie pointed out as she adjusted the pillow behind her.

  “I don’t like to get sloppy,” he yawned.

  “You’re not a sloppy person,” she agreed.

  “Hey, will you come to a dinner with me this week?”

  “Where?” she hedged.

  “At some museum. It’s a reception for a nonprofit. My mom is on the board.”

  “Your family will be there?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Everybody. Even that asshole Elliot.”

  Frankie laughed softly. “I’m gonna have to pass.”

  “Why?” he sounded disgruntled.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Aiden. It’s better if we keep our relationship… private.”

  He lifted his head and looked at her frowning. “But I just met your family,” he pointed out.

  “I know. But that’s different. I don’t think I should dabble in your world. Okay?”

  It was all temporary, and she didn’t want either one of them to forget that. Meeting her family was one thing. It drove her mother batty. Mission accomplished. If she met Aiden’s family, it would be making a statement. And she wasn’t really a statement kind of woman.

  “I wish you would. I liked meeting your family, and mine doesn’t hit as much.”

  Frankie laughed again. “That just means Ma really liked you.”

  “Even though I’m a trillionaire?”

  “She wouldn’t have smacked you if she didn’t like you.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Despite her better judgment, Frankie dropped a kiss to the top of his head. His hair was soft, silky to the touch.

  “What do you use on your hair?” she asked.

  “Mmm, stuff. Can we sleep now?”

  “Yeah, we can sleep now.”

  His arms came around her waist, and he was out like a light in seconds.

  Frankie tried not to think about how good this felt. A Sunday nap on the couch with her sexy boyfriend. It wasn’t real, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t feel damn good.

  She woke slowly in stages to a gentle stroking. She knew without waking that it was Aiden’s hands in her hair.

  “Mmm,” she sighed.

  “I can’t remember the last time I took a nap,” Aiden murmured.

  Somehow, they’d shifted during the nap and Aiden was now spooning her and stroking his hand through her thick, wild hair.

  “You are missing out,” she said, giving herself over to the luxury of a whole body stretch.

  “I had no idea just how much,” he said, his lips moving against her ear. She wiggled back against him and felt the reward of his exceptional hard-on.

  “Do you always wake up with wood?” she asked.

  His hand slid down to capture her breast through her sweater.

  “When I wake up next to you I do.”

  He sounded sleepy but sober. And there was something irresistible about his lips moving over her hair, her neck.

  “Are you sure you won’t reconsider coming to dinner this week?” he asked, his hand squeezing the tender flesh of her breast.

  “Mmm. Meeting the family? Facing photographers? Sitting around while you wow the room? No thanks.”

  He sighed behind her. Was that disappointment? Relief?

  “But maybe there’s something I can do to make it up to you,” she said rolling to face him and reaching her hand between them to cup his erection.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Aiden shoved his gloved hands in his pockets and watched the crowd fighting their way into Madison Square Garden. There was no sign of the Baranski brothers yet, and he had a brief, unsettling flash of concern, wondering if they weren’t actually serious about the invitatio
n.

  That sort of thing didn’t happen to him. Not with the last name Kilbourn. Growing up, there hadn’t been a birthday party, a bar mitzvah, or a wedding he hadn’t been invited to. However, those invitations usually came with strings. It was the reason he’d been looking forward to the game. Gio and Marco didn’t seem like string-holding guys. And what would it be like to spend an evening being just one of the guys?

  Frankie had been entertainingly shocked when he told her he couldn’t meet her for her booty call tonight because he was hanging out with her brothers. It was good to keep a woman on her toes. And lately, he’d been feeling like Franchesca was holding all the power in their relationship. Turning her down tonight made him feel like he’d taken a step to restore the balance of power.

  “Hey, Kilbourn!”

  He turned with relief at his name and spotted Gio and Marco making their way through the crowd to him.

  “Good to see you, man,” Gio said, slapping him on the shoulder.

  They all exchanged greetings. The brothers were decked out in Knicks apparel. Aiden, not sure of girlfriend’s brother’s hangout etiquette, had kept it simple with jeans and a sweater.

  “We ready to get out of this ball-freezing cold?” Marco asked, digging into his coat pocket for the tickets.

  “Where we sitting?” Gio demanded, blowing into his hands and rubbing his palms together. Aiden wondered if anyone in the Baranski family ever remembered gloves.

  “Well, we’re not nosebleed, but we ain’t front row,” Marco said, waving the tickets.

  Aiden debated for a second before digging into his own pocket. “Actually, we are,” he said, producing the tickets. He didn’t want it to seem like an over-the-top gesture. But when they’d invited him, he’d actually been excited and not in a conquer-the-business-world way. Besides Chip, Aiden’s friends were few and far between, and there was something entertainingly normal about Frankie’s brothers.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Gio snatched the tickets out of Aiden’s hand.

  He couldn’t tell if the man was going to hit him or hug him.

  “Front fucking row?” Marco whooped.

  “I hope you don’t mind—”

  “Mind?” Aiden found himself enveloped in a male embrace and actually lifted off his feet.

  “This is like a real fucking dream come true,” Gio said, still staring at the tickets. Aiden wasn’t sure, but it looked as though his eyes had gone a little misty.

  Marco released him back to the ground and slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Can Frankie pick ‘em, or can she pick ‘em?”

  “I wish you’d tell her that,” Aiden said before he thought better of it.

  “She giving you a hard time?” Gio asked sympathetically.

  Aiden hesitated. Family loyalty dictated that Frankie’s brothers would be one-hundred percent on her side.

  “She’s great,” Aiden said evasively.

  “She’s a slippery one to nail down,” Marco said. “If you want to be in it for the long haul, she’ll make you work.”

  “Overtime,” Gio added.

  “Tough nut to crack,” Marco said.

  “I can’t tell if she wants to be in this relationship, or if she’s just waiting for it to end.”

  The brothers shared a look and a laugh. “How about we get inside and talk over a beer and some steak sandwiches?”

  “Real quick, hang on,” Gio said, snatching the old tickets out of Marco’s hand. “Hey, kid.” He stopped a gangly teenager in a jersey. “You got tickets?”

  The kid shook his head. “No, man.”

  “Now you do.” Gio handed them over with a flourish.

  “Are you serious?” The kid gaped down at his hand as if Santa himself had just bestowed a magical gift.

  “Pay it forward,” Marco announced cheerfully. “Let’s go.” He led the way inside.

  “I feel like Oprah,” Gio mused, bringing up the rear.

  * * *

  The game was action-packed for a basketball game. The courtside seats were worth the astronomical price when Gio and Marco couldn’t stop hitting each other in excitement.

  “This is the greatest night of my life,” Gio announced when one of the Knicks City Dancers blew him a kiss.

  “Top ten, definitely,” Marco said through a bite of steak.

  Together, they razzed the players and shouted along with the rest of the crowd. And Aiden felt like he was part of the unit. He couldn’t imagine spending an evening like this with his half-brother. He and Elliott had never had much, if anything, in common. They were loyal because it was required. But they weren’t tight-knit like the Baranski siblings.

  “Are you excited about being a father?” Aiden asked Marco.

  “Shit yeah,” Marco shrugged. “Never thought I would be. But Rachel? She makes my life a thousand times better than before. And I had a damn good life before.”

  “You know what you’re having?” Aiden asked.

  “Little girl,” Marco puffed up and then shoved a finger in Aiden’s face. “But Rachel wants to be surprised, so she didn’t open the envelope. And neither did I. Got it?”

  Aiden smirked. “Your secret is safe. Does Frankie know?”

  “Not yet.” The way Marco said it made Aiden think there weren’t many secrets the Baranski siblings kept from one another.

  It was an appealing dynamic, he thought. He’d spent his life with family that ruled decisions, friends that he could rarely trust, and hundreds of acquaintances who would sell him out at the drop of the hat. It was nothing like the bond Gio and Marco shared.

  Between plays, the brothers helpfully schooled him on all things Frankie.

  “You gotta understand, Frankie’s looking for what our parents have,” Marco said, washing down the rest of his sandwich with overpriced beer.

  “A partnership,” Gio added. “She’s not settling for less.”

  Less is exactly what they’d agreed upon.

  “So, how would someone prove they’d be a good partner?” Aiden asked.

  “First of all, don’t be a pushover. Don’t give her everything she demands. Like when she calls you tonight and suggests you come over, tell her you can’t, and don’t give her an excuse.”

  “That will drive her friggin’ nuts,” Marco grinned in approval.

  “You’re not giving me bad advice to sink me, are you?” Aiden asked wryly.

  Marco leaned in, the epitome of seriousness. “With the seats you could get us for the Jets? Nah, man. We wouldn’t lead you astray. Hell, we’re hoping you get married and have eight babies.”

  “Frankie grew up with us. She’s basically a guy without the equipment,” Gio pointed out, leading them back to the topic at hand. “Talk to her like you would a VP in your company. Don’t be all like ‘Not now, baby, men are talking.’ She’ll have your balls in a peanut butter jar for that.”

  Marco nodded. “Yeah, she’s a smart girl. Talk to her like she’s one.”

  The crowd exploded as a breakaway was foiled.

  Gio put his hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “Listen, man. Don’t be dicking around if forever isn’t what you’re after. You want to keep it light? Fine, do that. But don’t be getting into her head if you’re looking to jump ship next week, got it?”

  “Fair enough,” Aiden agreed. He didn’t know if forever was what he wanted, but he sure as hell wanted more than just next week.

  “Good. Because I’d hate to have to beat the shit out of you after courtside seats,” Marco chimed in. “I mean, I’d still do it. But I’d probably be pulling my punches a bit.”

  “Hey, so what’s it like being able to buy whatever you want?” Gio asked.

  * * *

  “Hello, beautiful,” Aiden answered Frankie’s call, plugging his other ear with a finger so he could hear her over the din.

  “I saw you and the two stooges on TV,” she told him.

  “I hope you recorded it.”

  “I did. I even took some still shots of them climbing you
like a tree on that last second three-pointer. You do remember which member of the family you’re dating, don’t you?”

  He grinned.

  “Is that, Frankie?” Gio hissed.

  Aiden nodded. Marco grabbed a pen off of a waitress and scrawled a note on a beer napkin.

  Don’t say yes to the booty call.

  “So, where are you guys?” Frankie asked.

  “Celebrating with apparently half of Madison Square Garden in a bar,” Aiden told her.

  “You drinking?” she asked.

  He had a vague recollection of his confession before falling asleep on her Sunday afternoon. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased that she was looking out for him.

  “One beer at the game. One beer here,” he reported.

  “Good boy.”

  He wanted to hate the way the praise she gave him made him hard. Made him want to see her, touch her, taste her.

  Marco shoved another napkin in his face.

  Stay strong!

  “I live to serve,” he said lightly.

  Dismayed, Marco and Gio shook their heads.

  “Are you coming back to Brooklyn with them?” she asked innocently. “I might have a cute, lacey nighty on.”

  He knew her better than that. She was in a tank top and leggings curled up under a mound of blankets.

  “I don’t think so, but you’re more than welcome to come into the city,” he offered. Thinking of her in his bedroom, her dark hair spread out on white sheets, the city lights shining through the windows. Aiden wanted her to say yes. Wanted it more than anything.

  “I’ve got an early morning,” she said. “Don’t stay out too late.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Aiden said, wishing she’d change her mind.

  “Goodnight, Aide.”

  “Goodnight, Franchesca.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Aiden opened the front door of his apartment and, ignoring the fresh flowers on the foyer table, headed down the hallway to his bedroom. He deposited his wallet and cufflinks in their special compartments in his closet. He slid out of his suit jacket and shoes, returning both to their appropriate places before changing into jeans and his favorite Yale sweatshirt.