Secrets of a Playboy

by Janice Maynard

  Frannie nodded. “And the rest of you?”

  Farrell gave her a thumbs-up. “I’m in.”

  Katie raised her wineglass. “Me, too.”

  “And me.” Quinten grinned as he snatched another roll.

  Frances Wickersham turned in her seat and gave Zachary a cool, steady glance. “And you, Zachary?”

  * * *

  Frannie stared at Zachary calmly, hiding the fact that his mere presence in the room turned her back into a hormonal, overly emotional teenage girl. Her pulse fluttered, and her mouth was dry. Zachary Stone was both the same and yet different from the boy she had known so long ago.

  His stunning good looks had matured, but the perfect features and flashing smile were no less jaw-dropping now than they had been when he was sixteen. The fact that he’d earned a reputation over the years as a playboy didn’t surprise her. He was a man who liked women. And they liked him.

  Frannie, herself, would have to be on her guard. She couldn’t get sucked into his orbit. The residual fondness she felt for Zach was dangerous.

  There was a reason she was a loner. It was easier that way. Less chance of getting her soft heart stomped on or her feelings bruised.

  Zachary’s thick chestnut hair gleamed beneath the warm light of the chandelier. His skin was perpetually golden, either because of all his time spent outdoors or because he had a dollop of Mediterranean genes somewhere in his DNA. Like his brothers, he was tall and lean and athletic. In high school, he had wanted desperately to play sports with Farrell and Quinten back in Portland.

  Unfortunately, the gifted school in Connecticut had budgeted for microscopes and computers rather than football equipment and soccer fields. Zachary had been forced to find an outlet for his energy in intramural athletics.

  Frannie unwittingly zoned out for a moment, but she finally realized that Zachary had not answered her question. “Zachary?” she said. “Do you want to do this?”

  He seemed conflicted, and that was bad. Spending this kind of money when one of the business partners wasn’t a hundred percent on board could spark conflict. His hesitation hurt.

  Finally, he gave her a terse nod. “I don’t think we have a choice. The past couple of years have been tough. Quinten’s injuries. Our father’s death. The three of us learning how to run the company. We can’t afford to lose what we’ve worked so hard to preserve.”

  “Well, then,” she said. “I’ll turn over every tiny pebble until we know for sure. Either Stone River Outdoors is in danger, or you have nothing to worry about. I’ll have answers for you one way or another.”

  The conversation shifted then, allowing Frannie to finish her meal and witness the byplay between the other adults in the room. Watching the family dynamics in person helped her, but she already knew a great deal about the parties involved. She never undertook a job unless she was confident that she understood what she’d be dealing with. And whom. One of the perks of her skill set was uncovering secrets. She made no apology for the digging she did.

  So far, her research told her the Stones were much like any wealthy family. They’d had their good times and bad. She had read about Quinten’s competitive skiing accolades and the subsequent injuries that forced him to give up the life he loved. His wife, Katie, was an extremely loyal longtime employee who had fallen for the youngest Stone brother and married him earlier this year.

  Frannie also knew that Farrell had been widowed tragically in his midtwenties and spent the next eight years alone. Petite Ivy Danby had come into Farrell’s life recently—with her baby—and by all accounts, had coaxed the gruff, withdrawn inventor into taking a second chance on love.

  Oddly, Zachary was not quite so easy to profile, despite the reams of material Frannie had found online and the fact that she had known him fairly well before.

  Zachary was an enigma. In school, he had been brilliant though reluctant to apply himself, as the report cards used to say. His brain was razor sharp, but he preferred to be known for his hijinks and his sense of fun. Zachary was never happier than when he was in the midst of a crowd, usually serving as the ringleader.

  Though he did go on to get an advanced degree at Harvard, he had stopped short of a doctorate, either in defiance of his father’s wishes or because Zachary was simply done with academia.

  It made perfect sense that he was now the chief financial officer for Stone River Outdoors. His brothers would trust him to handle the money coming in and going out. She suspected, though, that the job was not one he found particularly fulfilling.

  Since leaving school, Zachary had traveled the world. Extensively. His exploits were well documented. Though he could most likely have excelled in an individual athletic pursuit as Quinten had with skiing, Zachary was more often than not found with a gaggle of companions. Exploring remote sections of the Amazonian rain forest. Racing camels for the hell of it across sections of the Sahara. Dabbling with the idea of commercial space exploration.

  Zachary Stone was brilliant, and brilliance required stimulation.

  Frannie knew that firsthand. It was why she did what she did.

  And then there were the women. Legions of them. Zachary Stone’s name had been linked with any number of high-profile females. But he’d never come close to the altar. Though his older brother and his younger brother had found love, the middle Stone sibling continued to sail through life, noticeably alone.

  Frannie didn’t know what to make of that.

  Once the caterer had served coffee and hot apple cobbler for dessert, Katie insisted the young woman head home to her sick child. Ivy stood and began gathering plates. “I’ll help with cleanup, Katie.”

  Frannie joined them. “Me, too.”

  Katie shook her head. “Oh no. You’re our guest this evening.”

  “Please.” Frannie cocked her head at the three brothers, who had gathered at one end of the table and were arguing football statistics. “Save me.”

  The other two women laughed and agreed to let Frannie participate in what seemed to be a female ritual for this family. But Frannie had no quarrel with the status quo. She was eager to learn more from these women about the man who had once been her teenage crush.

  When the kitchen was spotless and the dishwasher running, Frannie leaned against the counter and grinned. “So, tell me. What’s it like to tame one of the Stone brothers?”

  Katie sighed. “Well, it’s not for the faint of heart. I work for one, and I’m married to another. Together, the siblings are three men who were raised by a single father. That tells you all you need to know.”

  “Because their mother died young, right?”

  Ivy nodded. “Yes. It’s probably understating the case to say they lacked a female influence. They’re arrogant and stubborn and completely unwilling to accept limitations, but they can be surprisingly sweet despite all that alpha-male testosterone.”

  “They’re pussycats at times,” Katie agreed. “But never make the mistake of thinking you can pull something over on them. They hate being handled.”

  Frannie nodded. “Even as a teenager, Zachary had this incredible self-confidence. I envied him, to be honest. It took me years to feel comfortable in my own skin.”

  Ivy smiled. “I don’t think it’s ever easy for a woman to be seen as ‘too smart.’ You must have had female friends, didn’t you?”

  “I did. Oddly, though, most of my friends were guys. But it was because I was a tomboy, I suppose. Not athletic, believe me, but more interested in science than makeup and fashion. I was hopelessly awkward.”

  The kitchen door swung open, and Zachary walked in. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Frannie. You were cute in a quirky kind of way.” He grinned at Katie and Ivy. “She had these oversize corduroy overalls, one forest green pair and one navy, and she swapped them out with half a dozen T-shirts.”

  Frannie gaped. “I can’t believe you remember that.�
��

  “We spent a lot of time together, Bug. I have a damned good memory.”

  Katie lifted an eyebrow. “Bug?”

  Zachary reached in the fridge for a beer and popped the cap. “Everybody at the Glenderry School for Gifted Children had nicknames, me included.”

  “We didn’t pick them,” Frannie said hastily. “Other students, usually upperclassmen, handed them out like toxic candy, and they invariably stuck. Of course, if you were popular like Zachary, they weren’t so bad. Right, Stoner...or Stone Man?”

  He shrugged, a light in his eyes. “Bugs are cute. Ladybugs. You know.”

  Katie and Ivy gave her identical sympathetic looks. Katie shook her head slowly. “I’ll bet you hated that nickname, didn’t you, Frannie?”

  “Oh yes.” Although hearing Zachary speak it casually made it not so bad. He had never said it with malice.

  Ivy, bless her, went to bat for wallflowers everywhere. “But look how you turned out, Frannie. You’re tall and gorgeous and brilliantly successful. No one would ever guess that some dumb kid in high school named you Bug. Living well is the best revenge. Isn’t that what they say?”

  Though Frannie didn’t have a lot of close friends, mostly by choice, she liked Ivy and Katie. In other circumstances, she might have enjoyed getting to know them better. Her chosen career left little time for socializing, and because she bounced all over the world, she had learned to be self-sufficient. As soon as she started her task at SRO headquarters, she would be immersed in the job. That’s how she worked best. Head down. All her focus on the puzzle.

  Looking for one single thread that could lead her to answers.

  If such a thread even existed.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ivy,” Frannie said. “I’ve come a long way since my Glenderry days. Most people harbor a few unpleasant memories from adolescence. Mine aren’t really so bad. It was better than being stuck in a regular public school and not being allowed to study all the things I wanted to... At Glenderry, there were no limits.”

  Katie shook her head slowly. “I’m glad you and Zachary had that opportunity.”

  Ivy frowned. “But Stoner?”

  “It was a joke.” Frannie grinned. “Zachary never touched drugs. Everyone knew that. He was too determined to stay in good shape physically. That’s why it was such an aggravating nickname.”

  Zachary sighed. “I was what you might call conflicted. Glenderry was a hell of a good place for me, but I fought that reality every day. I just wanted to be normal.”

  Frannie smiled, a smile that started small and grew to include Katie and Ivy and Zachary’s two brothers, who had joined the party in the kitchen. “Oh, come on, Zachary. You were never normal.”

  Two

  Zachary couldn’t decide whether he was insulted or amused when everyone in the room laughed uproariously. At him.

  “Very funny,” he muttered. “You’re all off my Christmas list.”

  Frannie bit her lip, clearly trying to stifle more giggles. “I’m sorry, Zach. I couldn’t resist.”

  Farrell winced. “Yikes.”

  “What’s wrong?” Frannie asked.

  Quin patted her arm. “We’ll protect you.”

  “From what?”

  Katie whispered loudly. “Zachary hates having his name shortened.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Frannie stared at him. “Are they serious?”

  Zachary shrugged. “I decided in college that Zachary had more gravitas. Nobody has called me Zach in at least ten years.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “Sorry.”

  “You shouldn’t be,” he said quietly, pulling her into the hall for a moment of privacy. “I called you Frannie when you’re obviously a Frances now. All grown-up. Serious. Mature. We’ve come a long way, Frances Wickersham. But I still want to believe that sweet girl is in there somewhere. I liked her.”

  Her eyes were huge, the color deeper, darker now. “And I liked Zach,” she said. “But shouldn’t we keep the past in the past if I’m going to be working for your company?”

  “We’re old friends, Frannie. It’s true I didn’t know that when I hired you, but does it matter? We shared a lot back then. Glenderry helped make us who we are today.”

  “Do you like who you are?” she asked, her expression wary.

  The question was spot-on. He might be a genius, but Frannie was too smart to believe any of his usual lines. “Maybe.” He said it grudgingly. “I’ve had to step up the past couple of years. My brothers have needed me.” And being needed was easier than mapping out his own future.

  “So, you abandoned the serial dating and the globe-trotting?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Which part?” He drawled the two words for the sheer pleasure of making Frannie blush. “I may be in the midst of a dry spell, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Frannie sputtered and backtracked. “Your romantic life is none of my concern. I should get back to the hotel.” She pulled out her phone and tapped the app for the car service.

  Zachary took her phone and held it over his head, ignoring her scowl. “The Frannie I knew was very thrifty. Why pay for a ride when I can drop you at your hotel on my way home? Or better yet...”

  “Better yet what?” she said, not even trying to retrieve her phone.

  He gave her his best nonthreatening, charming, cajoling smile. “On the way, we could stop off for a drink. I’d love to hear what you’ve been doing since the last time we saw each other.”

  Her expression was equal parts suspicious and interested. “That might be fun,” she admitted. “Hotel rooms get old. Yes, Zach. I’ll let you take me home.”

  “Good.” He handed over her phone. “I love my family, but I wouldn’t mind heading out in the next few minutes after we say our goodbyes.”

  When they returned to the kitchen, the other four adults pretended they hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop.

  Frannie smiled at Katie and Quin. Quin had one arm curled around his wife’s waist. “Thanks for inviting me tonight,” Frannie said. “The meal was great, and I enjoyed getting to know you.”

  Quin nodded. “It was our pleasure. You’ll have to come again. Especially since it sounds like you’ll be here in Portland for a while.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” Frannie turned to Farrell and Ivy. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I’ve always thought December ceremonies were beautiful.”

  Ivy leaned her head on Farrell’s shoulder. “If you’re still here by then, I hope you’ll come.”

  Frannie shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, but I can’t imagine my role will take much longer than four or five weeks. I hope to take some vacation time after I finish with SRO, and then I have a huge job that starts in January.”

  “Well,” Ivy said. “The offer still stands.”

  After that, everyone moved en masse toward the front of the house. Farrell and Ivy were leaving, as well. Ivy’s daughter, Dolly, was with a babysitter, and Ivy wanted to get home to her.

  In the car, Zachary turned the radio on low and adjusted his lights. The rain had stopped, but the air was thick and heavy. Fog reduced visibility to only a few feet. Beside him, Frannie was quiet. He remembered that about her. She didn’t chatter. Not that he would have minded. Conversations with a woman like Frannie were never dull.

  The bar he had in mind was cozy and warm. Sometimes on the weekends a lone jazz musician played. It was actually not the kind of spot he took his dates. But he often met friends there. The distinction was one he had never considered.

  After finding a convenient parking spot on the street, he slid into it and scooted around to open his passenger’s door. Frannie stepped out and turned up her collar. “Brrr... Is it colder now?”

  “Feels like it.” He put a hand under her elbow a
nd escorted her to the building.

  Inside Dante’s, the warm, convivial atmosphere wrapped them in welcome. The bartender cocked his head. “We’re slow tonight,” he said. “Take your pick. Someone will be with you in a minute.”

  There were only eight small booths in addition to the bar itself. Four at the front and four at the back. Zachary headed for the most private of them all. It was tucked in the far rear corner near the restrooms.

  The wallpaper in the bar was antique, and the comfortable leather banquettes were scuffed and worn. Over the bar, an enormous mirror enlarged the room, its vintage glass mottled with age.

  Frannie shrugged out of her coat and looked around with interest. “What a cool place. It feels like Hemingway might walk in any minute.”

  “I hoped you would like it.” Zachary shed his overcoat, as well.

  The young woman who came to take their order cut to the chase. “You want hot coffee or the hard stuff? Nasty out there tonight.”

  “Frannie?” He smiled at his guest, feeling unaccountably relaxed and mellow. As long as he didn’t dwell on the shape of her breasts beneath that clingy sweater, he could forget F. Wickersham was a woman. Maybe.

  Frannie glanced at a drink menu. “I’ll have a virgin strawberry daiquiri, please.”

  “And I’m driving,” Zachary said. “So, keep the hot coffee coming. A shot of Bailey’s in the first one wouldn’t hurt, though.”

  When they were alone again, he studied her face. “You’re not a drinker?”

  She shrugged, her long fingers shredding a napkin. “It dulls me. I don’t like that. I tried the social drinking thing at university, but I was no good at it. I prefer to stay alert. Plus, my college roommate was almost raped at a party, so it sobered me, if you’ll pardon the pun. I work with men a great deal. It pays to keep vigilant.”

  He fell silent, realizing that he had no idea what it was like for a woman to survive in the twenty-first century. Everything was supposed to be equal, but that was a joke. Pay scale aside, the female sex was always going to physically be at the mercy of a larger, stronger male.