He shifted on the mattress. Without opening his eyes, he rolled to her side, curling around her and pressing his face against her arm.
The most eligible bachelor in the city was in her bed, holding on for dear life, and her heart was doing something funny and fluttery.
“Son of a bitch,” she murmured. She was falling for him. And this was not going to be a soft landing.
She picked up her eReader and opened the novel she’d started. At least on the page she was guaranteed a happily ever after.
Aiden Kilbourn’s new girlfriend a cocktail waitress?
Just the tip: Waitress bags billionaire
Chapter Forty-Eight
Frankie swung through the crowd, a tray of pancetta crisps in her hand. It was her next to last catering gig. With the cash from tonight, she’d have almost enough to pay off her credit card that was still sobbing from Pru’s wedding.
The rich were raising money for manatees or sea turtles or some kind of endangered marine life in an Upper West Side art gallery. They were scribbling checks with one hand while downing signature cocktails and stuffed mushroom caps with the other.
“These are divine,” a woman in black sequins sighed, plucking another appetizer from Frankie’s tray. “The only reason I come to these things is for the food,” she confessed.
Frankie gave her a smile. “In that case, don’t miss the brie toast points.”
She made a lap around the far side of the room, smiling politely and pointing out the restrooms when asked. And was completely surprised when Cressida’s considerable rack came into her line of vision.
Shit. She’d been hoping to remain as under-the-radar as possible. Her catering boss already had reservations about letting Aiden Kilbourn’s girlfriend hand out apps to her new peers. The last thing she needed was a run-in with Pru’s bridal party.
Frankie ducked behind a tall, stooped gentleman and peered around his elbow. Cressida wasn’t alone. She was on the arm of groomsmen and day-trading boy genius Digby. Frankie was so surprised that she didn’t notice when her cover wandered off toward the bar.
“Frankie?” Digby asked, cocking his head to one side.
Crappity crap crap.
Frankie plastered a bright smile on her face. “Hey, Digby. Cressida. It’s nice to see you,” she said for once wishing she was in a nice dress holding a fundraiser program and not a tray of pancetta snacks.
Cressida eyed Frankie’s uniform. “You are working?” she asked.
Frankie straightened her shoulders, daring them to say anything. “Yep. So, what brings you two here?” she asked.
Digby snatched a piece of toast off her tray. “Cressida owns the building,” he said, chewing happily.
“And I like the manatees,” she added pointing at one of the informative banners hanging from the ceiling.
The big-boobed blonde was a real estate mogul, and Frankie was pushing appetizers for a living. Sometimes life wasn’t quite fair.
Digby reached into his pocket.
“You use your phone, and I will have you killed,” Cressida purred.
Digby sheepishly ended his search and reached for another appetizer.
“I am training him to not be an asshole,” Cressida announced. “Good luck with your training of Aiden.”
“Uh, thanks?” Frankie said.
Digby grinned. “I heard Margeaux didn’t take the news of you two dating well.”
“Why Margeaux thinks it’s any of her business is beyond me.”
“That one does not like to lose,” Cressida announced. “We must go make love now.”
Digby’s face lit up, and for once, it wasn’t from the backlight of his phone. It looked as though he was trading in his day-trader ways.
“Great seeing you, Frankie. Tell Aiden we said hi,” he said in a rush, grabbing Cressida’s wrist and dragging her toward the door.
“Huh,” Frankie said, watching them leave. Maybe there had been something in the water in Barbados. She shivered, pitying whatever man ended up with Margeaux.
She moved on, circulating like a ghost through the crowd until her tray was empty. Back in the cramped kitchen, she restocked. Jana slid through the door with a tray of dirty glasses.
“Another hour, and we start packing up,” she sang. Her blonde hair was streaked with turquoise today.
Frankie couldn’t wait for that hour to end, and with it this portion of her life so she could step into her newly favorite role. Aiden’s bed warmer. Since she was already in town, it only made sense for her to stay at his place tonight. Especially since tomorrow was Saturday. The plan was to sleep in and have a lazy Saturday brunch. Then dinner with Aiden’s father, his new lady friend, and Aiden’s mother. As always, the Kilbourns kept it quite civilized. Though not civilized enough to invite the step-mother/soon-to-be-ex. News of the divorce had leaked early. And the gossip was rampant even here.
Rumor had it that Jacqueline had been on the guest list for tonight but was too humiliated to show her face. Frankie guessed the woman was probably reviewing her prenup with a magnifying glass rather than suffering any actual humiliation. It was funny serving food to some of the same people she’d danced alongside of last week. But as was typical, no one looked a server in the eyes unless they were after something more than food or drink.
The anonymity was more comforting than anything. Aiden hadn’t mentioned anything about her catering gigs, but she imagined it must be odd for him to have a girlfriend who cleaned up after his peers.
“Franchesca?” Cecily Kilbourn cocked her head to one side. “It is you!” She was dressed in a simple yet stunning yellow dress that only a woman with her coloring and bearing could begin to pull off.
“Mrs. Kilbourn,” Frankie said, nearly bobbling her tray.
Her ghost status had just been revoked.
“Please, call me Cecily,” she said with a genuine smile. “Is Aiden here?”
“No. He was working late tonight.”
“Ah. My son is always working,” Cecily sighed. “He takes after his father in that area.”
“He’s very dedicated,” Frankie agreed.
“That’s a very polite way of saying he needs to be careful before he starts following in the rest of his father’s footsteps. I’m very glad he’s found you. He seems quite taken with you.”
“Same. I mean, I feel the same way.”
“I may be biased,” Cecily said, “but he is quite the prize.”
“We’re enjoying our time together,” Frankie said, not knowing how to make small talk with her boyfriend’s mother when she was supposed to be handing out miniature shrimp cocktails served in ceramic spoons.
“What did you find now, Cecily? You’re going to end up ten pounds heavier when you leave here if you don’t stay away from the food.” Jacqueline, neither humiliated nor glued to her prenup, sidled up to them and plucked a sample from Frankie’s tray. She sampled it and wrinkled her pretty nose. “Ugh. Disgusting. I hate shrimp.” She dropped the half-eaten shrimp back on the tray in a masticated lump.
Asshole.
“Where’s the girl with the brie?” she demanded.
“Jacqueline, you remember Aiden’s girlfriend Franchesca, don’t you?” Cecily said pointedly.
It took Jacqueline a moment to realize that Cecily was talking about the tray-wielding Frankie and not someone else. “You’re a waitress?” Jacqueline asked with a laugh. Her eyebrows were trying valiantly to raise, but the flawless forehead only allowed her eyes to widen ever so slightly.
“Among other things, Mrs. Kilbourn.”
Jacqueline looked like she was weighing whether or not she should be seen talking to the help.
“Well, enjoy your girl talk,” she said, going nearly cross-eyed from looking down her nose at them. “I’ve got another party to attend soon, so I must say my good-byes.” She swished away in satin and pearls.
“Let’s hope the next one is slightly more tolerable,” Cecily sighed.
“How did Ferris go from you
to that?” Frankie asked. Oh shit. When was she going to learn to keep her mouth shut?
“It probably had something to do with her being pregnant with his child,” Cecily mused. “Oops. Family secret. Pretend I said something really Zen and sweet instead.”
“You’re right. Jacqueline really is a treasure,” Frankie said.
“Oh, Cecily!” A woman in a burgundy shawl waved from her up-close vantage point of a very naked statue.
“That’s a friend of mine. Would you like me to introduce you?” she asked.
Frankie shook her head. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d rather stay incognito. I’ve only got one more catering gig to go, and it’s just easier if no one knows my… connection to Aiden.”
Cecily nodded. “I understand. Well, it was lovely to see you, and I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Me, too,” Frankie said. And she realized she actually meant it.
Frankie headed in the direction of the kitchen to get rid of Jacqueline’s dead shrimp. Nothing killed the appetite like someone else’s chewed up food.
“Did you see who Cecily was talking to?”
Frankie heard Jacqueline’s voice coming from a cluster of ladies who were lingering near the bar.
“Who?” someone asked, breathy with excitement over any tidbit of gossip.
“A waitress.”
“Was she getting a recipe?”
“The waitress is her son’s girlfriend.”
“No!” someone gasped in horror.
Okay, that was a bit of an overreaction. It’s not like she just announced Aiden was eating homeless dogs for breakfast.
“Yes!” Jacqueline announced gleefully. “Like father, like son, I suppose. They both have a thing for the help.”
“Was Cecily a waitress too?” one of the other women demanded.
“Almost as bad,” Jacqueline continued. “She was a secretary or something at the interior design firm he hired to do the house in the Hamptons. Can you imagine? Poor dear always thought we were friends. But that’s what you do to help. You pat them on the head and tell them they’re doing a good job and then count the silver when they leave.”
They cackled like a flock of chickens.
“There goes the bloodline,” someone sighed.
“I suppose I should have told my daughter to get a job at a fast food restaurant or as a janitor when she wanted to catch Aiden’s eye all those years ago.”
Frankie was amazed that the tray didn’t snap in her hand from the pressure she was applying. She did a rapid calculation. Exactly how bad would the consequences be if she beaned the soon-to-be ex-Mrs. Kilbourn in the head with this tray?
Crap. Pretty bad. She seethed. Okay, physical violence was out. But she wasn’t about to let this go.
Frankie grabbed a cocktail toothpick off of the bar and walked into the midst of the hyenas. “There you are, Jackie. You’ve got a little spinach stuck in your dentures,” she said handing over the toothpick. “I’d hate for everyone to be laughing at you behind your back.”
The laughter screeched to a halt. Jacqueline stared at her coldly.
“Oh, and I’m so proud of you for making an appearance tonight. I can’t imagine showing my face in public after my husband dumped me for a woman fifteen years younger. Good for you, sweetie. Will you be at dinner tomorrow night to meet the new Mrs. Kilbourn with the rest of the family?”
Jacqueline’s mouth was hanging somewhere down around her augmented tits when Frankie breezed away.
Okay, it wasn’t as satisfying as popping her one in the face. But it felt good enough.
She stormed back into the kitchen, took a two-minute breather, and then plastered a professional smile on her face and returned to the thinning crowd. Jacqueline was gone, and it looked like she’d taken most of her cronies with her. Probably to prove she wasn’t wearing dentures.
Everyone was looking at her, though, and laying on the profuse thank-yous when she passed with the tray. Ugh. She preferred it when they were too important to look at her. Word traveled fast in high society. Aiden Kilbourn’s girlfriend was slinging apps in an apron on a Friday night. What was the world coming to?
“I’d love a piece of whatever it is you have.” The voice was smooth with a practiced flirtatiousness that immediately put Frankie’s back up.
“Stuffed mushroom caps?” she asked, shoving the tray between them.
He was leanly muscled and slight of frame, close to her own height. She guessed that she outweighed him by a good ten pounds.
There was something insolent about the way he perused her tray before popping the mushroom cap into his mouth and making a show out of licking his fingers.
“I’m Lionel, by the way.”
“Hi, Lionel,” she said, not interested in continuing the getting-to-know-you portion of their evening.
“I’m sure Aiden’s mentioned me before. I usually beat him on the polo field,” Lionel said, tossing his mop of blond hair off his forehead. “We like to compete against each other in everything.” He lowered his voice as if he were imparting a secret.
“Good for you,” she said side-stepping him. But he followed her, blocking her path.
“You’re very beautiful, you know. I saw you from across the room and just couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Cut to the chase, Lionel,” Frankie demanded with the minimum of politeness she could muster. She hated being restrained by the required professionalism of her current role.
He reached out and traced a knuckle over her cheek. “I think you’d like being in my bed better than Kilbourn’s. What do you say?”
Fuck off. Go fuck yourself. Go slather yourself with ground beef and walk into a grizzly bear den. “No thanks.” There was enough chill in her words that Lionel should have gotten frostbite.
“Maybe you need a little convincing. I like it when a girl plays hard to get.”
“Are you talking to me like this because I’m the help or because your wallet says you can?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “What a wildcat you are. Come on. Forget Kilbourn. Have a drink with me. I’ll pay you for the rest of your shift.”
Lionel made a fatal mistake by grabbing her wrist and giving her a tug.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Aiden frowned at the text from Frankie.
Frankie: Can’t make it tonight. Raincheck?
The last time they’d talked, they were both looking forward to a night together. Aiden drummed his fingers on the desk, a dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Had Elliot actually carried out his threat? Had he underestimated his sniveling, lazy coward of a brother? The fact that Elliot needed money was obvious. But as for the why? It was still a nagging mystery.
Aiden’s investigation had barely begun, and he had yet to dig up any connection between Elliot and Donaldson.
He’d assumed it was an empty threat. Elliot was many undesirable things, but his quest to be an important asset to their father was equal to no other goal. And Aiden was counting on that consistency to buy himself some time. He needed to figure out just how to break the news to Franchesca that he’d caused their best friends years of misery.
He could either do that by meeting Elliot’s financial needs or maneuvering his way out of his commitment to his father.
In short, he was fucked.
His phone rang, and Aiden snatched it up. It was his mother. He briefly debated letting it go to voicemail but changed his mind.
“Sorry for calling so late,” Cecily said, her voice bright. “But I knew you were working anyway. I wanted to tell you I ran into Franchesca at an event tonight. She was working.”
“Was Elliot there too, by chance?” Aiden pinched the bridge of his nose and hoped for good news.
“Not that I saw. But his mother was.”
Aiden’s lips curved at the slightest hint of derision in his mother’s tone. She should have been awarded sainthood for her gracious acceptance of Jacqueline and Elliot after his father’
s philandering. Now that the marriage was over, Cecily had been sprung from the prison of politeness, of putting on a brave face.
“Anyway, Franchesca’s so different from anyone I’ve seen you with before, Aiden. And I wanted you to know that I like her very much. And that assessment was already in existence before she put Jacqueline in her place tonight when she was running her mouth about father and son enjoying ‘the help.’”
Aiden swore quietly. He felt twin pangs. One of relief and one of dread. Even at work, Frankie couldn’t escape his family. And though it hadn’t been Elliot telling secrets, Jacqueline could do enough damage on her own.
“What exactly did Jacqueline say?” he asked, his tone steely.
Cecily laughed. “No need to ride into battle. Your girlfriend handled herself well enough that Jacqueline left with her tail between her legs. She’s a good match, Aiden.”
“Dad doesn’t seem to think so,” Aiden admitted.
“Your father needs his horizons expanded. I hope you keep her.”
“We’ve only been dating two months. Are you designing wedding invitations already?”
“Two months is the outside for most of your relationships, dear son. And I don’t see any of the usual tells that you’re growing bored with her.”
No, if anything, he was more fascinated, more enamored by the day. And someone in his orbit had upset Frankie tonight. It was his job to protect her from that.
“Where was this Save the Whatever fundraiser?”
* * *
He found her, finally, in a bar a block from the fundraiser. The crowds had thinned, and Frankie sat alone at the bar, still in her catering uniform, staring morosely into a glass of something. He barely registered the dark paneling, the soft lighting, and the subtle art under brass lamps. His focus narrowed to her, to the slump of her shoulders, the sweep of her hair, the pursing of her lips.
“You’re blowing me off so you can drink alone?” he demanded, taking the stool next to her.
She didn’t look up, her long hair hiding her face. Aiden could be a patient man when the situation called for it. He signaled the bartender and ordered a scotch.
Beach Reads Box Set Page 252