Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

“Franchesca?”

  Had he finally lost his damn mind? Was he missing her so much he was now hallucinating her instead of catching the ghost of her scent, the echo of her laughter?

  “May I come in?” she asked.

  It felt as if a bolt of lightning struck the carpet that separated them. The room was charged with electricity. He knew by the parting of her lips, by the guarded expression on her face, that she felt it too.

  It was pathetic how grateful he felt just to see her again. His heart pounded in his chest as if it knew that everything came down to the next few minutes of his life. And he wasn’t in control.

  Franchesca was.

  Oscar quietly shut the door, and Aiden knew it must have cost him dearly.

  “Of course,” Aiden said gruffly. He wanted to cross to her, to take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair. Instead, he gestured toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Sit.”

  She sat, crossing one leg neatly over the other, and he went rigidly hard. His cock had no shame. The woman who had destroyed him, who had turned the life he’d built into an empty shell, still made him want.

  He’d crawl to her if he thought for a second it would work. But Frankie didn’t want a man who crawled.

  “I have a proposition for you,” she began, slipping a folder from her bag.

  She handed it to him across the desk, and when their fingers brushed, he knew without a doubt this woman would never leave his system. A storm was brewing between them, and he only hoped that when it broke, he wouldn’t be alone.

  “I’m listening,” he said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He pulled his chair back and sank into it.

  If she noticed, she didn’t let on. Frankie cleared her throat. “Okay, there’s a new gap in small business services in Brooklyn. I know the neighborhoods, I know the business owners. They need guidance, mentoring. They need education. They need loans and grants.”

  She was pitching him a fucking business proposal?

  “I know you, Aiden. I know that all levels of entrepreneurship interest you. And it could start here,” she flipped to a page in his packet and tapped a finger on a map of her parents’ neighborhood. “Six storefronts are for sale on this block alone. The buildings themselves need some work, but they’ve got good bones. Most of the apartments are rented.”

  She talked real estate and revitalization, and Aiden felt his interest pique despite his profound disappointment.

  She had photos of the street, detailed maps of neighborhood parking, the real estate listings, rental unit potential, and even an itemized list of types of stores that were missing from the neighborhood.

  She talked about weekend farmers markets, about block parties and restaurants with outdoor seating. She painted a pretty picture.

  “You could make a difference one city block at a time. You don’t have that kind of real estate potential here in Manhattan. Not anymore. Think of the communities you could build, the small businesses you could support and watch grow. You’d need a development center. Something that could guide new businesses and help older owners take advantage of new technologies.”

  “And who would manage it?” he asked.

  “Me.”

  Aiden’s gaze flew to her face. “You’re asking me for a job?” He didn’t know whether to be impressed or furious.

  “Oh, Aide, I want you to give me a lot more than that.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Her heart hadn’t stopped hammering against her ribs since she walked in here. Seeing him was hard. So impossibly hard. He was just as beautiful as before. But there was a wall between them. One that she had built. One that was up to her to tear down.

  Frankie took a deep breath and took the plunge.

  “I let you down, Aiden. And I’m having trouble forgiving myself.”

  “And you think me giving you a job will make you feel better?” he asked in confusion. He didn’t even sound angry. But she had to appeal to all of him, starting with the successful entrepreneur driven to win at all costs.

  “You need me, Aiden. And damn it, I need you. Not your money. Not your family connections. You.”

  He was watching her intently now, and she watched him back, noticed him carefully hide the spark of hope behind those cool blue eyes.

  “You’re thoughtful. You listen, really listen. You’re smart and charming and funny and surprisingly sweet. You’re so fucking generous I worry that you’re going to get hurt.”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. The words were spilling faster and faster from her lips. She reached into her bag and her fingers closed around the next part of her plan.

  “No one’s ever touched me the way you do. No one’s ever loved me the way you do. And I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” Her voice broke, and she saw his knuckles whiten as he closed his hands into fists.

  With a shaky breath, she pushed herself out of her chair and walked around his desk on jelly legs. She knelt down in front of him and held up the jeweler box.

  His face gave nothing away, so she popped the lid of the box revealing the simple gold band. “It was my grandfather’s,” she whispered. “It’s nothing fancy. But it’s family, loyalty, love. And I can give you all that. So marry me, Aiden. Be with me. Give me forever.”

  She held her breath and blinked back the tears that were threatening to overflow her lashes.

  “What about Chip and Pru?” he asked, staring at the band.

  “The truth is, I had more trouble forgiving myself than I did you. I was looking for an excuse to end it, to be right, because I didn’t want to get hurt. And I ended up hurting us both. Also, Pru called me the Upper West Side version of a chicken shit, and I hate when she’s right.”

  She saw the ghost of a smile play at the corners of his mouth, and her heart sang with hope.

  “What about my family?” he asked. “They’ll always be a problem.”

  “I have a feeling there will be less drama. I’ve discovered that I fit in quite well with manipulative backstabbers.”

  “You’re going to have to explain that cryptic statement,” he said, reaching for her, his hands closing over her wrists. He stood, pulling her to her feet.

  “First, answer me, please. Then I’ll tell you anything you want. Will you marry me, Aide? Will you take me as I am? Forgive me for being stubborn and proud and so very, very wrong? Because, damn it, Aiden, you fit in my life like you’re the missing piece. I can fit into yours, too. I want you for an ally, a partner. I was wrong to hold back, wrong to be looking for a way out. And I’m so fucking sorry. But I promise you from this day forward, I will be your partner, and we can build something beautiful together. And I swear to you I will always, always, have your back.”

  She was shaking, with love, with fear, with hope.

  Aiden nudged her chin higher and looked her in the eyes.

  “We can’t both be chicken shits, now can we?”

  “Aide, if you don’t give me a yes or a no right now, I swear to God I’m going to ruin your life like I just ruined your brother’s.”

  He grinned down at her, the full wattage that made her weak in the knees.

  “It’s always been yes with you, Franchesca. There is no one I’d rather have in my corner.”

  “Yes?” she repeated.

  He nodded. “Yes, and the sooner, the better.”

  “Well, we don’t need to move too fast,” she began, feeling hesitation rush up.

  “You got down on both your knees—”

  “I can’t get down on one knee in this dress! You’d have been looking at my hooha during my very sweet and inspiring speech!”

  He was laughing now and lifting her off the ground. She felt him hard against her hip and went quiet. Her brain shifted gears into sexy time.

  “I love you, Franchesca,” he whispered against her jaw.

  “I love you, Aiden, you stubborn son of a—”

  He covered her mouth with his, shutting her up with a kiss. She struggled for
half a second, determined to make her point, and then lost her damn mind when his tongue stroked into her mouth. She shoved her fingers into his hair, gripping the silky strands she had missed so much. Breathing him in, she told him again and again as his mouth slanted over hers just how much she loved him.

  “How are we going to celebrate?” he asked, breaking free for a second.

  “You’re going to bend me over that desk and remind me of everything that I’ve been missing.”

  “I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He nipped at her neck, fisting a hand in her hair.

  “Damn right you are.”

  Epilogue

  ONE MONTH LATER

  “Cannonball!”

  Franchesca rolled to her side to watch Aiden at the open terrace door. Sheer white curtains billowed in on the tropical breeze. He was naked, as he had been for most of the twelve hours since they’d been pronounced husband and wife. Her ring finger bore the weight and sparkle of their commitment to each other. A commitment they’d made on the white sand beaches where it had all begun and continued in the same bed where she’d first discovered Aiden Kilbourn’s potency.

  “Mmm,” she sighed, stretching her arms over her head. “I could get used to this view for the rest of my life.”

  Aiden shot her a cocky grin over his shoulder. His muscled back, and gorgeous ass, showed evidence of the tracks her teeth and nails had taken throughout the night.

  “I’m not sure if I’d want this view every day,” he commented. “Your dad just did a cannonball over Marco and Gio and splashed Rachel.”

  Frankie snorted. “You did not have to bring them all along, you know.”

  “They’re family.”

  Marco and Gio shouted something, and there was another loud splash.

  “Antonio! Stop splashing. Don’t you idiots encourage him, or they’ll throw us all out of here,” May Baranski screeched at Frankie’s favorite underage cab driver and her brothers.

  Frankie flopped back on the pillow. “You can’t take the Brooklyn out of the Baranskis. When are they leaving again?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow with Chip and Pru and my parents.”

  “I still can’t believe your dad came to the wedding,” Frankie said. She rolled out of bed and padded across the room to the small refrigerator where she found a bottle of water.

  “He’s getting used to the idea of letting me make my own decisions. In another five years, he might even like you.”

  Frankie laughed. “I’ll hold my breath for that possibility. Did you tell him about Elliot?”

  Aiden shook his head and met her where she stood, his hand stroking over her breast and down to the curve of her hip. He circled her body as if he were taking stock of it. “Some things are best left between brothers. But I did tell him I bought Elliot out of the company.”

  “A clean slate,” Frankie sighed.

  She felt his erection stir as it brushed her ass cheeks. “You’re insatiable.” She reached for him, gripping him at the base.

  “The same could be said of you, my wife.”

  “Oh look! We can see in Frankie’s room from here! Yoo hoo, Frankie!” May stood up on her chaise lounge and waved.

  “Oh my God.” Frankie shoved Aiden out of the line of sight and onto the floor. “I can’t take these people anywhere!”

  “I guess we can go be social until tomorrow,” he sighed with disappointment.

  But she was already sprawled on top of him. And he was already hard and pulsing between her thighs.

  “Maybe we can spare a few minutes,” she suggested, moving to straddle his hips.

  He was laying on top of her discarded veil and the skirt of her crumpled wedding dress. Both of which he’d stripped from her last night.

  He’d refused to tell her just how much the dress had cost, but she’d caught the estimate in the gossip blogs. Leave it to Aiden to spend that much on a piece of clothing worn for a few hours.

  Aiden’s blue eyes hooded with desire. He was a beautiful sight, and he was all hers. He hinged forward, bringing his mouth to her closest breast, his abs rippling with the motion.

  As he sucked and teased, Frankie took him inside her in one languorous slide.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her flesh, teasing the nipple with his lips.

  “You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted, Aide,” she breathed.

  His hips thrust up to meet hers, rocking into her in a slow, steady rhythm.

  She moaned, and he clamped a hand over her mouth. “Quiet now, sweetheart. We have an audience outside.”

  Frankie tasted the metal of his wedding band, felt the drag of him inside her against her trembling walls.

  “It’s never going to be enough,” he whispered. “I’m never going to have enough of this with you, Franchesca.”

  His words, sweet and strained, echoed in her head, her heart. She dug her toes into the floor, rolling her hips against him.

  He hissed out a breath, and she swore she felt him throb inside her.

  “You’d better be with me,” he growled, and with that, he rolled, trapping her between the skirt of her wedding dress and his unyielding body.

  He drove into her powerfully, his hand still covering her mouth. But they didn’t need words. Not when their gazes held, not when their souls locked into place and their bodies came apart at the seams. She felt the first hot burst of his release as she clamped down on his cock as her own climax bloomed like a flower.

  “Yes, Franchesca. Yes.” He chanted sweet and dirty vows as they came together.

  All in. Forever.

  Extended Epilogue

  ONE YEAR LATER

  Aiden Kilbourn and Frankie Baranski revitalize entire city block

  Aiden Kilbourn’s wife wears Target dress to ribbon cutting

  Aiden Kilbourn’s wife chokes on sausage at inaugural event

  * * *

  “Those are ridiculous,” Frankie insisted, pointing at the oversized shears Aiden held in his hand.

  “A big ribbon-cutting calls for big scissors,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. He’d left his trademark suits home today and wore jeans and a simple white button down. If it weren’t for his panty-dropping face of perfection, he could almost pass for a normal human being.

  “What?” he asked, noting her attention.

  She grinned. “Just feeling a little extra lucky today.”

  “You should. It’s not every wife who can talk her husband into buying her a city block.”

  “Us,” she reminded him.

  “Us,” he agreed, squeezing her shoulder.

  “I’m pretty impressed with us,” she said eyeing the street. “A grocer, a coffee shop, a sandwich place, a tiny brewery, and a small business development center open all on one day? You’re going down in neighborhood history.”

  “You mean like Saint Franchesca?” he teased.

  “Well, obviously you won’t be as revered as me. But close,” she predicted.

  In just over a year, the little strip of street in Brooklyn had gone from ignored and dilapidated to rejuvenated. There was a lively jazz band playing on the restaurant’s patio, and the street was roped off with one big, red ribbon. Neighbors and business owners spilled out onto the sidewalks, ready for the festivities to begin. Aiden had hired local restaurants and food trucks to feed the crowds for the neighborhood’s first ever block party. Proceeds would go toward the grant program managed by the brand-new business center, where Franchesca had an office and about six weeks of work ahead of her already.

  “Shall we do the honors?” he asked, nudging her toward the end of the street.

  “Let’s do this.”

  They tag-teamed the speech with a natural rhythm. Frankie’s parents and brothers waved from the front row. They talked about community and neighbors and pride, and then, together, to the raucous cheers of the crowd, they cut the ribbon.

  The press was there in large numbers because it was a Kilbourn project. But Fr
ankie didn’t mind the attention. Not when they had, for the most part, learned to treat her like any other entrepreneur. No one dared to ask her who she was wearing anymore.

  After the ribbon was cut, the speech made, and the doors opened, Frankie and Aiden walked arm in arm down the revitalized street, mingling and munching, tasting and touring. They ate hot sausage from a food truck, drank Pilsner samples from the brewery, and toured each business with each owner. Frankie pinched herself and Aiden repeatedly just to make sure this wasn’t one big, beautiful dream.

  No, it wasn’t, Frankie thought with satisfaction as she sunk her teeth into the Bratwurst Wagon’s bestselling foot-long sausage. She had played a role in the redevelopment of an entire city block. Something that would benefit both the neighborhood and the business community. And Aiden had stood with her, guiding her, and trusting her throughout the process. She loved him desperately for it.

  Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her smart sundress, and she pulled it out.

  Aiden: You’re giving me ideas with that sausage in your mouth.

  She laughed, nearly choking, and then, spotting him in the crowd, made a private show of shoving as much of it into her mouth as possible.

  “Mrs. Baranski,” someone said, shoving a phone into her face. “Care to comment on the predicted revenue of your project here?”

  The sausage and bun turned to sand in her mouth, and she started coughing.

  Aiden was at her side in a moment, slapping her on the back.

  “Sorry,” Frankie gasped, tears stinging her eyes. “Too much sausage in my mouth.”

  The journalist, a woman in a trim blazer and glasses, gaped at her.

  Aiden covered his laugh with a cough. “I’d be happy to answer any of your questions while my wife finds a drink of water,” he said smoothly.

  Frankie, still coughing, decided it was in her better interest to wash down the sausage wad with more beer to calm her butterflies. The public part of their big day was drawing to a close, but she had one hell of a surprise cooking for Aiden, and there was a good chance he would hate it. She took a steadying breath. He had to love it. If she had to love the expansive wardrobe he’d bought for her and the embarrassingly beautiful stash of jewelry and books and kitchen toys, he had to love her surprise.