Page 105 of Wicked Fantasies

“Oh.” Reed could hear from her mother’s tone she was disappointed. He forced back a chuckle. It appeared Georgia and his mother shared the matchmaking streak. His mother despaired of him ever getting married and giving her grandchildren.

Clearly Frankie felt the need to change the subject to something safer. “So how was your dinner? The food here is pretty good, isn’t it?”

Georgia nodded, but it was her father who replied. “The bread was hard. The service was mediocre and your mother hardly touched her steak.”

“Steak?” Frankie asked. “I thought red meat upset your stomach. Why would you order it?”

“I ordered it for her,” her father barked. “She’s eaten steak for years and never had any trouble.”

Mrs. Carlyle shook her head quickly. “I think I must’ve had a touch of the flu the last time I ate it.”

Frankie’s face and the tone of her voice told Reed his lover was quickly losing her temper. “It’s made you sick the last three times you’ve eaten it. Did you read that information I sent you about Irritable Bowel Syndrome?”

Her mother nodded. “Of course, I did, but your father?—”

Mr. Carlyle cut off his wife’s comment. “She’s fine.”

Frankie opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs. Carlyle quickly took her daughter’s hand. “Your father’s right. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Frankie’s father looked at him. “Leave it to women to overreact over every little thing.”

Mrs. Carlyle laughed uneasily. “No need to worry. The steak here was just a bit tough. That’s all.”

“Waste of good money,” Mr. Carlyle muttered.

Mrs. Carlyle smiled at Frankie and quickly changed the subject. It seemed to be a talent the mother and daughter shared, and Reed wondered how much of their lives they’d spent trying to distract Mr. Carlyle from his anger. “I wish I’d known we were going to run into you, Frannie. I would have brought your birthday present. It’s been sitting on the counter for weeks.”

“Birthday?” Reed asked. Had he missed her birthday?

Frankie looked at him, clearly reading his thoughts. “I celebrated it at a bar about a month ago. Spent the evening with this arrogant, but sort of charming man who bought me a glass of red wine.”

He smiled. Not only had he not missed her birthday, he’d been her gift to herself. “Sounds very nice.” He paused, then the devil prodded him to add, “Frannie.”

Frankie narrowed her eyes in warning when he used her mother’s nickname, and then she turned back to her parents. “I’ve been busy with the new job, Mom. I’m sorry. Things should ease up next week, so I’ll swing by for a visit then.”

Ronald snorted at her reply. “Too busy with work.”

Reed was surprised by the amount of malice that laced the man’s words.

“Yeah, Dad. Too busy.”

“Maybe if you put as much energy into dating, you could get married and quit that silly job of yours.” Ronald turned to him, and Reed had a strong premonition the next few minutes were about to take an ugly turn. “Don’t you think a thirty-year-old woman should at least be looking toward marriage?”

Reed wasn’t sure how to answer. He certainly wasn’t one to lecture anyone on the institution of marriage. Until he’d met Frankie, he’d resigned himself to thinking it wasn’t for him. He’d been married to his job, committed to making money, being a success. It was a trait he and Frankie shared.

He was also an all-or-nothing kind of guy, and he didn’t think it was fair to ask a woman to sign on for a lifetime of eating dinners and spending evenings alone, which was why Frankie was tailor-made for him. She’d be working with him in his ideal future, side by side, as his partnerandhis wife.

“Don’t answer that, Reed.” He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief and take the out she’d provided, but he felt he owed both of them an answer.

“I think everyone is different, Mr. Carlyle. What may have worked for you and your wife may not work for Frankie. When she meets the right guy, when she’s ready to settle down, she will.”

He’d been rather proud of his speech, thinking he’d supported Frankie’s cause against her father. However, Frankie’s face went white with anger, and he suddenly wondered what he’d said wrong.

It didn’t matter. Her father harrumphed and her mother bid them both a hasty goodbye. He watched the couple leave and he waited for the onslaught. She didn’t disappoint him.

“Settle down?”

He was confused by the fury lacing her tone until she continued. “And what if I already consider myself settled down? What if I’m living the life I want to be living and I don’t need some asshole man trying to tell me what to do twenty-four seven?”

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