Modern Girl's Guide to Friends With Benefits Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Inner Circle

  Excerpt from A Modern Girl’s Guide To Friends...

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  The Inner Circle

  Reviews

  Other Books by Gina Drayer

  Copyright

  The Modern Girl's Guide

  To

  Friends With Benefits

  (Book Three in the Modern Girl's Guide Series)

  by

  Gina Drayer

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  From The Modern Girl's Guide To Friends With Benefits

  In a relationship slump? A friends with benefits arrangement can be just the thing a Modern Girl needs—a just-sex relationship between friends, without the emotional commitment of dating.

  Whether it's your "bestie," an old childhood friend, or that hot guy who lives up the street, you can find the perfect partner anywhere. Sometimes there's a mutual attraction between you and your friend like a magnet is pulling your bodies together. Sometimes something catches your eye. Like the hottie in 4B—you know, the one who somehow makes taking out the trash sexy. Sometimes it's been a while and your friend comes over with wine.

  Friends with benefits can be rewarding to both partners, but it takes a lot more work than a random hookup. This isn't a stranger, it's someone involved in your life. So in order to keep the friendship healthy, we've outlined a few tips. Follow them and you can get in, get off, and get out, without anyone getting hurt.

  Chapter One

  Modern Girl Tip #2 Pick A Friend, But Not Your Best Friend: Friends with benefits works best if the person you're knocking boots with doesn't know all your secrets. Things can go south when you have an underlying emotional attachment to one another. And that can lead to a hot mess of a relationship.

  "They've rejected it?" Megan asked, sure she'd heard her agent Jackie wrong. "I don't understand. In my contract, they agreed to publish three books. This would be the third."

  "The contract also gives them the right of first refusal. They didn't want it," Jackie said without an ounce of sympathy. "The market is oversaturated with rock stars right now. What the publisher really wants is another Alpha FBI book. That series is still one of their best sellers. It's money in the bank."

  Jackie's lack of empathy made her a great agent, but it didn't make Megan feel any better right now.

  "I'm glad it's selling, but it's not what I want to write. I'm out of ideas for that series. I'm having trouble finishing the one I'm working on. If I try to push out another book, it's going to suck."

  "Listen, Meg, I've told you this a hundred times—you don't kill the golden goose while it's still laying eggs. I know twelve books is a lot for any series, but your readers love those books. Ending it now is a bad business decision."

  Megan gnashed her teeth, trying hard not to tell her agent to fuck off. She just needed to remember that this was why she paid the woman. Jackie looked out for the bottom line. "So, what's our next step?"

  "If you insist, I can shop around your rock star series, but I'm not sure I will find any takers for the money you're making now. Have you thought about rewriting it as a New Adult—college garage band hitting the big time? I might be able to do something with that."

  Writing about life on a college campus was the last thing Megan wanted to do. The kids she saw every day in her classroom weren't romance hero material. They were messy and loud, and a lot of them lacked even basic social skills. Not that she'd been much better at that age. Megan had been such a hot mess in her early twenties. And her love life had been a series of bad choices and naive assumptions about love. She couldn't imagine writing a novel about young love without it turning into a horror fest. Even continuing her FBI protector series ad nauseam was a better option.

  "I'll think about it," Megan said with a sigh. "Let me get back to you after the holidays."

  "Don't get too wrapped up in planning a new series," Jackie said in a warning tone. "I still need the rest of those chapters by January fifteenth to make your deadline or you'll be in breach." There was a pause, and then she added, a little softer, "You're burnt out. I get it. We'll find something else for you, but let's finish up this contract first. There's plenty of time to plan your next move."

  "There's no need to worry. I'm making good progress. I'll have your pages before the deadline," Megan said, knowing full well that it wasn't the truth. She'd rewritten the first three chapters five times and had no idea what to do next.

  "Fantastic," Jackie said, back to her usual no-nonsense tone. "We'll talk again after this book is done. Oh, and Megan, happy birthday. I hope you liked the flowers."

  Megan stared at the limp, dying lilies. Yeah, happy fucking birthday indeed. "Thanks again, Jackie. I'll talk to you soon."

  Megan slammed the old corded phone into the cradle, cracking the plastic. Then picked it up and banged a few more times for good measure. "Fuck!"

  "It must be pretty bad to get that kind of response from you," Connor said from the doorway. "Is there anything I can do?"

  Caught mid-tantrum, Megan eased the phone back down and pressed her forehead onto the desk. What a craptastic morning. Maybe the combination of his large biceps and the accent would lighten her mood.

  "It's nothing. Talking business always gives me a headache."

  "I can come back later," he said.

  She took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and twirled around in her chair to face him. She could play off the bad mood, but it was pretty bad when not even Connor's soft Irish lilt couldn't bring a smile. Then again, she wasn't happy to see him standing in her office. Megan's contractor never bothered her during the day while she worked, so his arrival could only mean one thing—more bad news.

  "So what's up? And be sure to go into great detail. Could you maybe, flex while you're doing it? I wouldn't object if you wanted to take off your shirt."

  "We've talked about this before. I won't be charmed by with your womanly wiles. We've agreed to keep it strictly business," he tried to say in a stern voice, but couldn't hold back the laugh. "I'll let it slide because I know you're under a lot of stress. And it's your birthday and all."

  "I know something else you could let slide," she said with a wink.

  "Oh, I don't think you could handle me, love."

  Before she could continue their playful banter, her cell chirped. Her stepmother Michelle was calling, again. She had been avoiding her call. Michelle always wanted something when she called, and Megan was too busy. But her day had already gone to hell, so she might as well get all the bad news at once. Megan held up a finger to Connor and answered the phone.

  "Shelton complaint line," Megan said.

  "Megan dear, I'm glad I've finally got you. I've been trying to reach you for a week."

  It had just been two days, but it felt like a
week. "I've been busy. You should have left a message."

  "You know I hate doing that. You never know who will get their hands on the recording. As a senator, your father has to be so careful. The press is notorious for taking things out of context."

  "I'm his daughter. I'm not about to sell your voice messages to the press," Megan huffed, not really in the mood to get into it with her stepmom. Michelle was nice enough, but Nixon was more trusting than she was. Megan had little patience for her father and his politics. "What can I do for you?"

  "Something came up, and we're not going to be able to attend the museum luncheon this year. We've made a sizable donation and your father feels that someone from the family should be there. Would you go in our place?"

  She knew it. The only time Michelle or her father called these days was to ask her to be in some photo op, like she was some cardboard cutout. Insert loving daughter here. "You know I hate going to those type of events. Ask Simon. I'm sure he and Julia would look better in the paper than me."

  "I already asked," she said flatly, as if Megan should have known she was the second choice. "He's leaving for New York and doesn't have time. That's why we wanted you to use our tickets."

  "I'm sure everyone realizes that the senator and his wife are busy people. You don't need me to go." In the end, she would say yes, but Megan got great pleasure out of making her stepmother work for it.

  "It's a party. Honestly, Megan, one afternoon won't kill you. Your father doesn't ask much of you, and you know he'll appreciate it."

  "Sure he doesn't," Megan said under her breath. He never asked for anything, except that she stay out of newspapers, be the perfect daughter, and look pretty for the voters. Her father loved her in his own way, but more often than not Megan felt like she was more useful as a talking point than she was as a daughter. "My daughter, the teacher," was one of his favorite lines to slip into speeches. It pissed her off every time because he'd been so upset when she dropped out of graduate school that he cut off her access to the family trust. It was a hollow punishment because Megan had her own small inheritance from her mother's estate, but it still hurt. Now he embraced her more "humble" career choice with open arms, wrapping himself in the banner of the working class. She'd love to tell him how she really made her money.

  "You don't have to do anything but show up," Michelle said, continuing to plead her case. "I'll even call the car service to come pick you up."

  "I'll go," she said, tired of this conversation. If she pushed Michelle, she'd likely get a call from Dad, and that's the last thing she needed. "But I'm driving myself."

  "Great. Do you need help picking out a dress?"

  "I've been dressing myself for years now, Michelle."

  "I know that, dear. But you know how unkind the press can be. The event is day formal. So something classic, like a black sheath dress, would work well. That dress you wore to Thanksgiving would have worked, but we released some photos to the press. Maybe something new is in order. And of course, you'll need an escort. I was thinking…"

  Megan pulled the phone away from her ear as Michelle went on. "So, what's the damage?" she asked Connor.

  "Shouldn't you finish your call?"

  "She can go on like this for hours." Megan put the phone back to her ear and said, "Sure, good idea," and pulled it away again. "I just need to say some affirmative words every now and then. So is this about the termites? I know you wouldn't come up here unless you have some news."

  "Sorry, it's not good. The termite damage extended to the exterior wall. I'm going to have to open it up."

  Megan closed her eyes and counted, trying to calm her nerves. She was almost to one hundred when Connor cleared his throat and nodded to the forgotten phone in her hand. Shit.

  "That sounds great, Michelle. I'll be there with bells on."

  "I knew you'd agree, so I had Lesley contact Ethan," Michelle said. "Everything is set up. He'll meet you there. I'll have Lesley email you all the details."

  "Wait. What details?" Megan asked, totally lost.

  "For your date with Ethan. This way you don't have to worry about bringing someone…appropriate. I had a dossier drawn up with his background and family history. He'll be the perfect escort for the luncheon. It would be nice if you made the style page."

  She should have known better. The way her day was going even her old trick of agreeing with Michelle to get her off the phone had turned into a disaster. "Whatever," Megan said, frustrated. "I have to go. We can talk about this later."

  After disconnecting, Megan was tempted to toss the phone across the room. Instead, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking deep breaths.

  Connor must have picked up on the ratcheting tension because he laid on the accent a little thick. "Sounds like you're having a bad day. If it makes you feel better, you can help me tear down the wall. I'll even let you use the big hammer."

  Must not make a penis joke. She opened her eyes and smiled, but his sincere expression was just too much. "Why Connor, I'd love to handle your big hammer. Don't you think Pat will be jealous? I could always watch while you handle the beast yourself, if that makes you more comfortable. Can you do it without your shirt on?"

  He frowned at her double entendre. "Megan, love, I've already told you, I draw the line at working without a shirt."

  Oh, the boy was sexy and really sweet. It was just too bad he was gay. At least he was good at his job and didn't have a problem with all the sex talk. Heck, she got some of her best dirty dialogue while teasing him. Connor usually gave as good as he got, even though there wasn't a chance in hell she'd ever get into his pants.

  "Alright, I guess the shirt can stay." Megan sighed dramatically and waved him off. "Give me a few minutes. I have a couple things to finish up, and then we can have lunch up at the coffeehouse with Patrick. I'm going to need some food before you show me exactly how much of the house we're going to have to tear down."

  She did need to work, but the call from her agent had pretty much wrecked Megan's will to do any more writing. At least that's what she was telling herself. The truth was, she couldn't finish the FBI book she'd started months ago. The plot was too complicated and the mood had turned serious. Not at all like the other sex-filled, fast-paced stories from the series. And the most troubling thing was, Megan had no idea how to get her mojo back to finish the book.

  So instead of getting back to work, she called her friend Julia.

  "Hey, girl, I've had a shit day. Do you want to hit The Sparrow and help me wallow in self-pity?"

  "I'm sorry. I know today is your birthday, but I can't," Julia said. "I've got a ton of things to do before we leave tomorrow. Are you sure you can't fly down with us? Because I'd be all about getting drunk in first class."

  "I'd love to leave early, but I've got a city inspector coming tomorrow and, of course, they couldn't make an appointment. I just have to be available all day. Like I don't have anything better to do than wait around for some jackass to approve my wiring."

  "I tell you what, I'll call the spa and get us in on Saturday. We'll do a whole day of it. Let the boys hit the slopes. We'll enjoy the resort's other amenities."

  "Fine, but after, promise me we'll all go out and drink all the wine in Vail."

  "It's a date," Julia said. "Oh, that's Simon on the other line. He's been driving me up the wall today, but if I don't take it, he'll come over. Happy birthday. I hope your day gets better. Just keep telling yourself you'll be on vacation in less than twenty-four hours."

  "Say hello to my rotten brother," Megan said. "I'll see you two tomorrow."

  Megan hung up and immediately scrolled to Peter's name. She wanted to call her best friend and have the mother of all bitch sessions, but she didn't want to bother him. He was already stretching himself thin by joining them in Vail for her birthday. Ever since they'd opened that stupid office in New York, Peter, her brother Simon, and everyone else in her small circle of friends seemed to be busy. But these last few months had been pa
rticularly hard for Peter, so she didn't need to pile on her shit, too.

  The weekend would come soon enough and Peter would be all hers, at least for a few days. She tossed the phone onto the desk and headed downstairs to see what kind of mess Connor had uncovered.

  Unfortunately, things were far worse than she'd expected. The entire south wall of the kitchen had to come out. Connor played it off as a simple matter, but Megan knew he was just trying to put her at ease.

  Chapter Two

  Modern Girl Tip #5 Emotional Maturity Required: A Modern Girl understands what kind of a relationship she's getting into right from the start. You're not looking for a happy ever after. You're just looking for a satisfying ending. In order for that to happen, you need to be in a healthy place emotionally.

  By the time Friday rolled around, Megan was more than ready for the trip. But of course, it turned into the longest day ever. The city inspector didn't show until four and then proceeded to take over an hour to check the wiring and fuse box. The traffic to O'Hare was so awful, Megan barely made it to the gate on time. But it wouldn't have mattered if she was late because the flight was delayed for hours.

  When she finally made it to the Rocky Hill Resort, Megan was exhausted and ready to forget the entire week with lots of booze.

  Dragging her bag through the lobby, she headed straight for the desk. It was late, and she really hoped everyone else was already checked into their rooms and in bed for the night. After her long flight, she really didn't feel like socializing.

  "Megan, I'm so glad I caught you before you checked in." A harried-looking Julia caught her by surprise and yanked Megan away from the front desk. "There's been a slight hiccup. When Simon made the arrangements, the travel agent assumed we were three couples traveling, so instead of four cabins, she only booked three."

  Sighing, Megan glanced at the desk, desperate to get to a room. "Fine. I'll get a room at the main lodge. It's not a problem." It would have been nice to have the extra space to spread out, but she was fine with a regular hotel room. "On the plus side, I'll be closer to the bar," she said, trying to put a positive spin on the day.