Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “An athletic apparel designer.”

  “Nice! You finally have an in for all the sports bras you’ve been wanting.”

  Aiden’s lips curved. “I wish you were here.” The words were out in the world before he could stop them.

  She sighed into the phone. “Maybe sometime. But for now, I wish you were here in this big bed with me.”

  Just imagining her stretched out, her wild hair fanning out in all directions, stirred him.

  “So, what does this mean for you? You’re COO—I Googled you—what happens next?”

  “I make the move to CEO, take on more responsibility, including the care and maintenance of one Elliot Kilbourn.”

  “You’re shitting me. That man-child is an epic asshole. Why would your father let him within five-hundred yards of the company?”

  “He’s blinded by Alice the sports bra designer.”

  “Funny. So your dad is dumping all his responsibilities on you so he can what? Retire on a topless beach in Boca?”

  “Sail down the Intercoastal Waterway and spend the summer in the Bahamas.”

  “Is he going to change his mind?” Frankie asked hopefully.

  “I don’t think so. He wants me to carry on in the business and family.”

  “Oh,” she said flatly. “You mean find a nice billionaire debutante and create perfect male heirs.”

  It was amazing exactly how much Frankie understood about the inner workings, the expectations of his life.

  “Something like that.”

  “Did you buy me a bed to break up with me?”

  Aiden laughed, and the sound echoed around the quiet room. “I bought you a bed to fuck you on without dumping us on the floor.”

  “I’m not mistress material, Aide.”

  “No, you’re not. My father also wants me to groom Elliot for a VP position. Something respectable.”

  “Eeesh. Sounds like your dad’s asking for a unicorn for Christmas. Never gonna happen.”

  It was simple for her. When presented with a decision, if it wasn’t satisfactory, turn it down, move on. But his life was so much more complicated than that. Where was the gratitude for everything the previous generations had built that he now enjoyed? Shouldn’t he be happy to sacrifice for that legacy as his father had?

  “So, you’re not out shopping for a wife right now?” Frankie asked.

  “They don’t exactly have stores for that,” he said dryly.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Everything can be bought for a price.”

  “What’s your price, Franchesca?”

  “Hmm. I guess it depends on the currency.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  January gave way to the icy fingers of February. New Yorkers spent the month shivering their way from building to building on gray, slushy sidewalks. But Frankie stayed warm enough with Aiden in her apartment at least three nights a week.

  They were getting along better than she would have imagined. He was smart and funny and horrifyingly generous. The new bed had been broken in, and now when Frankie went to bed alone, it was in the middle, hugging the pillow he’d used last.

  She tried not to think of the countdown clock. His relationships usually lasted between two and three months. They’d been going strong for six weeks. It was longer than she thought they’d survive. In fact, neither one of them was showing any signs of slowing down.

  Frankie finished up the email she was working on and fired it off. It was her half-day today, and with her evening class canceled for the evening, she had a luxury she wasn’t used to. Several unfilled hours. She thought about texting Aiden to see if he would come out tonight, but as he’d been there last night, it wasn’t likely.

  She turned to eye the flowers he’d sent this morning. Raul liked to joke that if Brenda had turned the office into a greenhouse with her pretty plants everywhere, Frankie’s boyfriend had turned it into a tropical rainforest.

  These were exotic and colorful with green spikes.

  Wild and beautiful. Just like you.

  —A.

  Frankie’s phone rang from the desk drawer, and she retrieved it.

  “Well, if it isn’t my old married friend Mrs. Stockton-Randolph,” she answered.

  “Frankie! Tell me you don’t have plans for lunch,” Pru squealed into the phone. “I haven’t seen you in a thousand years, and I need you to tell me if I look like an old married lady.”

  “Send me a selfie so I can see first. I don’t want to be seen in the city with some old lady,” Frankie teased.

  Ever the obedient friend, Pru sent her a selfie with crossed eyes and a scrunched nose.

  “Yeah, I’m definitely not being seen with that.”

  “Har har. It’s your half-day, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I get off in twenty.”

  “Well get off and get your ass downtown. I want all the dish on you and a certain most eligible bachelor who’s been seen smiling from time to time since he got back from my wedding.”

  “Smiling you say?” Frankie asked. So maybe she wasn’t the only one walking around with a stupid grin on her face.

  “Meet me at The Courtyard in an hour,” Pru ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  The host hustled Frankie through the restaurant with its bamboo walls and artsy chandeliers to the bar area where Pru waited. Her friend was dressed in trousers that molded to her like a second skin and a body hugging cashmere turtleneck. Slouchy gray boots poked out from under the wide legged cuffs of her navy blue pants.

  They hugged as if it had been years rather than a few weeks.

  “Well, marriage certainly agrees with you,” Frankie quipped, sliding into the leather backed booth.

  “I’d say that dating Aiden agrees with you,” Pru said, eyeing her coat.

  “Yeah, keep it down, okay?” Frankie glanced around the restaurant. It was one of the places where important private conversations were often overheard for the gossip columns.

  “Tell me everything,” Pru demanded.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Frankie fibbed. She wasn’t exactly prepared to put into words the feelings she had surrounding Aiden. They weren’t identifiable at this point, and she was in no hurry to hash them out.

  “You’ve been dating the most eligible bachelor on the eastern seaboard for six weeks, and there’s yet to be a picture of the two of you together. You never bring him up. You only don’t talk about men when you’re really serious.”

  “We’re not serious,” Frankie said. “We’re just having fun, enjoying the ride.”

  Pru snorted into her still water at “the ride.” “Oh, I bet you are.”

  “He’s great. Okay? He’s smart and funny, so much more than the gorgeous son of a bitch I thought he was. Happy?” Frankie asked.

  The waitress appeared and rattled off the daily specials. Pru ordered the kale salad with steamed chicken. Frankie ordered a beer and a turkey panini with fries.

  “Why do you do this to me? All my snotty rich friends order green juice and plates of air,” Pru lamented.

  Frankie took a bite out of one of the breadsticks the waitress delivered. “I’m your snotty poor friend, and I love carbs. I thought your stupid diet was over the minute the dress came off?”

  “I’m on a new diet called fat blast the honeymoon weight.”

  Frankie shoved the breadstick in Pru’s face and waved it from side to side. “Eat me. Eat meeeee…”

  “God, I miss you,” Pru sighed, snatching the breadstick out of her hand and taking a tiny nibble out of it.

  “You rebel, you,” Frankie teased. “I miss you, too.”

  “So, tell me about Valentine’s Day. What did Aiden the perpetual bachelor do for you?”

  “Well, he tried to surprise me with a long weekend in San Francisco. He had to go for business, but I couldn’t get away. So he ended up bringing over take out when he got back, and he got me a bracelet.”

  A very nice bracelet. One that was too nice to ac
tually wear. But she did open the swanky case and stare at the diamonds every night.

  “Jewelry already? Margeaux would be impressed and dying of jealousy. What did you do for him?”

  “I got him a Knicks hat.”

  Pru sat waiting expectantly. “And?”

  Frankie shrugged. “And that’s it. Well, I did flash him from the fire escape when he got to my place.”

  Pru looked like she smelled something funny. It was her concentrating face that Frankie recognized from a few years of finals weeks.

  “What?”

  Pru shook her head, her honey blonde hair never moving from its sleek knot at the base of her neck. “Nothing. Hey, let’s do dinner tonight! The four of us! We can go to The Oak Leaf.”

  Frankie wrinkled her nose. “Eh. Doesn’t Page Six camp out there?”

  Pru rolled her eyes. “Who cares? Their crab puffs are to die for, and I miss you, and I want to see you and Aiden together so I can give you my official seal of approval. I’m texting Chip right now.”

  “I don’t know what Aiden’s doing tonight,” Frankie began to argue.

  “So text him. Find out,” Pru said without looking up. “It’s Friday night. You’re already here. You can stay at Aiden’s.”

  “I’ve actually never been there,” Frankie said, taking a bigger bite of breadstick. It lodged in her throat.

  Pru dropped her phone on the table with a clatter. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve been dating him for almost six weeks, and you haven’t seen his place yet? Is he taking you to hotels like some skank?”

  A few of the closer diners shot glances their way.

  “I’m not a skank,” Frankie promised them. “She’s just running lines for a play.” Everyone went back to their meals. “Can you try to keep it down, please?”

  “I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you to his place. I really thought this was different. Chip said he’s never seen Aiden so—”

  “Relax, Cujo. He’s invited me plenty of times.”

  “And?” Pru looked at her like she was talking to an idiot.

  “And I live in Brooklyn. By the time I get over here and we do our thing, I’d have to spend the night or go straight to work. Take the train…” She trailed off, feeling a sliver of something uncomfortable.

  “I see. So, when do you see each other?” Pru asked.

  Frankie shifted uncomfortably. “When he comes to Brooklyn.”

  “And how often is that?”

  “Three or four nights a week,” she said. Five times last week.

  “I see,” Pru said primly. “And what kind of events have you gone to with him? Any fundraisers? Galas? The theater?”

  Frankie shook her head to each one.

  “Have you met his family?” Pru asked.

  “Uh, no. He wanted me too, but the timing wasn’t right. He did meet mine.”

  Pru brightened considerably. “Really? How did it go?”

  “Well, I mainly did it to piss my mom off. Like ‘Hey, Ma, here’s this gorgeous guy I’m seeing. But guess what, we’re just fooling around. No future here. Burn.’” Frankie laughed nervously but quit when Pru didn’t join her.

  Pru pinched the bridge of her nose. “Frankie, I’m going to say this with love because I do love you, and I want you to be happy. But you have got to quit the Frosty the Bitch Queen routine before you ruin something amazing.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The waitress reappeared with their meals. “I’ll leave you two to it then,” she said when the silence at the table grew awkward.

  “Frosty the Bitch Queen?” Frankie repeated.

  “Don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You are freezing Aiden out. Why in God’s name, I have no freaking clue. But you’re trying to sabotage this thing. Do you want to be right that badly?”

  Frankie’s jaw was on the table.

  “And while I’m talking and you’re listening, Aiden inviting you to his home, to meet his parents, to go to San Fran? He’s trying to share his life with you, jackass. And you’re basically kicking sand in his face.”

  “That’s not what I’m—”

  “Bullshit.” Pru stabbed her salad with such violence Frankie thought she saw the kale shrivel. “I get that you’re protecting yourself, but you don’t need to hurt him to stay safe.”

  Frankie swallowed hard.

  “It’s just a fling.” She said it to remind Pru and herself.

  “That’s no excuse to treat him like Margeaux treats her housekeeper.”

  Frankie brought her hands to her face. She was trying to protect herself. But that was no excuse for purposely rejecting him. Had she hurt Aiden? It wasn’t her intention. Though if the tables were turned… “I’m such an asshole.”

  “Frosty bitch queen,” Pru corrected with less vehemence.

  “He’s done everything for me, and all I’ve done is reject him.”

  “Good,” Pru said, pointing her fork at Frankie. “That’s the guilt I want to see. This is not like you to treat someone as less than.”

  “How do I fix it?” Frankie asked.

  “We start with dinner tonight.”

  “You still want to go with me even though I’m Asshole the Frosty Bitch Queen.”

  Pru looked down her nose piously, “My dear, some of us can afford to forgive.”

  “Oh. Nice. Now who’s the asshole?” Frankie asked.

  “I didn’t want you to feel all alone up there on your high horse.”

  “I’ll ask him about dinner tonight. But I’ll do it in person,” Frankie decided.

  “Good girl. You can meet me at the salon afterward, and we’ll go shopping so you have something amazing to wear to start your apology tour.”

  Frankie eyed her sandwich. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to know where he works, would you?”

  “You are the worst.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Aiden left the conference room feeling vaguely annoyed. He didn’t care for the old adage, ‘If you want something done right, you’d better do it yourself.’ However, with the fresh crop of new hires in human resources and marketing, he felt like it would be faster to do their jobs for them.

  He made it a point to meet with new hires periodically throughout their first year with the company. He found that flattening the layers of the corporation led to more natural communication and a better absorption into the corporate culture.

  But the early meetings were always a pain in the ass. No, Kilbourn Holdings didn’t need its own podcast. And no, they were not replacing all of the desk chairs with bean bags and exercise balls and opening a juice bar downstairs.

  He nodded at his admin, Oscar, a thin, fashionable dictator with a French accent who ruled Aiden’s calendar with an iron, manicured hand.

  “Well, that ran long,” Oscar announced, glaring at his Rolex watch, a gift from Aiden for the man’s tenth anniversary of dealing with Kilbourn drama.

  “I don’t suppose you have lunch waiting for me like a good admin,” Aiden shot back. Their relationship was closer to that of Frankie’s brothers than boss and employee.

  “Ah, I have something better than that waiting for you,” he said, pointing at Aiden’s closed office door. “I approve, by the way.”

  Aiden frowned and let himself into his office. The sight of Frankie sitting behind his desk swiveling in his chair jarred him hard enough that he froze to the spot for a moment. Oscar closed the door behind him with a stage whisper. “Have fun.”

  “Hi,” Frankie said, ceasing her swiveling.

  “Hi,” he responded, still shocked to find her in his office. She was dressed for work in a neat little suit that made him want to unbutton the jacket and slide his hands inside. She looked nervous. Something he wasn’t used to seeing on her face. Not his confident, energetic Franchesca.

  “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” she began, rising from the chair.

  “No! Not at all! I mean…” He couldn’t seem to regain his composure. He was so damn ha
ppy to see her. “I’m really happy to see you,” he admitted.

  “Yeah?” she asked beaming at him. “I was in town for lunch with Pru, and I well, we… Do you have dinner plans?”

  He did. Business ones. But having Frankie here in his office asking him for anything trumped that.

  “I’m yours,” he said. He meant it.

  She flushed and crossed tentatively to him, a paper bag in her hand. “I was hoping you’d be free for dinner with Pru and Chip tonight.”

  “What’s in the bag?”

  “I know you don’t get a lot of time for lunch, so just in case you didn’t get it yet today I brought you a sandwich.”

  “Is it a Baranski sandwich?” he asked snatching the bag from her.

  She laughed. “Gio really made an impression on you, didn’t he? Remind me to make you a club sometime. You’ll worship me.”

  He already did.

  His gaze must have told her as much because she looked down at her shoes and then the bag in his hand. “It’s not one of ours, but it’s a deli a few blocks away that’s almost as good as us. Don’t tell Dad.”

  “Your secret is safe,” he promised.

  “Why did Oscar let me in?”

  “I told security and reception that you had free rein to come and go as you pleased.”

  “When did you tell them that?” Frankie asked.

  “The day after I got home from Barbados.”

  She bit her lip and dipped her head.

  “Is something wrong?” Aiden asked, nudging her chin up to look at him.

  “There was, but now there isn’t,” she said firmly.

  “Can I ask what?”

  She shook her head. “Uh-uh. It’s better that you just go with it.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll do.” He grabbed her wrist and towed her back to his desk where he spread the sandwich out on the bag. Hot roast beef, and was that a whiff of horseradish?

  “I had them leave the onions off in case you had meetings today,” Frankie said. She was back to chewing on her lower lip.

  “Do I have to share this with you, or am I good to inhale the entire thing?” he asked, keeping the tone light.