Ice Creams at Carrington’s
The third book in the delightful series set in Carrington’s Department StoreGeorgie Hart and Carrington’s Department Store have got the world at their feet. Since a reality TV series put them both on the map, life has been amazing! Carrington’s profits are in the pink, Georgie has carved herself a place in the nation’s heart and even better, her romance with Tom, the store’s boss, has finally blossomed after a shaky start.Now summertime has come to Mulberry-on-Sea and Georgie is in great demand. The town is holding a big summer festival and she and her mates from Carrington’s are planning on making sure that Mulberry puts on the show of its life!But Georgie is about to get the offer of a lifetime – one that is just too good to turn down and something that will test her loyalties to their limits… Will Georgie be able to pull off it off once again, or has her luck finally run out?
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
First published in Great Britain by Harper 2014
Copyright © Alexandra Brown 2014
Cover illustration © Sarah Gibb
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014
Alexandra Brown asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007488278
Ebook Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9780007488285
Version: 2014-09-20
For my dad, Michael
Table of Contents
It’s Sunday morning in Mulberry-On-Sea and, if the dust-speckled shard of sunshine peeping through the chink in my bedroom curtains is anything to go by, then it’s going to be one of those gloriously uplifting start-of-summer days. Bliss. And if this isn’t reason enough to feel happy, then my boyfriend Tom, aka hottest man alive for sure, is leaning over the bed to kiss my cheek.
‘Mm-mmm. Well, hellooooo, Mr Carrington.’ I grin and run my fingers through his thick curly black hair, drawing in his delicious chocolatey scent and wishing he’d jump right back into bed, but he’s already dressed – jeans and a soft grey T-shirt to nicely accentuate his velvety-brown eyes.
‘I have to go,’ he whispers, tracing a path to my ear with his lips.
‘Stay a little longer. Go on … you know you want to,’ I tease, doing my best to sound sultry and seductive.
‘I’d love to, Georgie, I really would,’ he says with a smile. ‘But I want to squeeze in a swim and then sort out some stuff at home, plus I’ve got a ton of paperwork to plough through before the party later on.’ Tom stands up to pat the leather laptop bag that’s slung diagonally across his magnificently firm body.
‘Hmm, well OK, if you must …’ I stick my bottom lip out and pull a cross-eyed funny face to make him laugh.
‘Pick you up at one o’clock, yes? And, seeing as we’re making plans – can you keep the weekend after your birthday free?’ He tilts his head to one side. I nod, and stretch out like a starfish.
‘Oooh, why’s that then?’ Mmm, curious, my birthday – the big three zero is coming up soon! Friday 15 August, to be exact.
‘If I tell you, then it won’t be a surprise, will it?’ Tom grins mischievously and my stomach does a somersault. God, he’s gorgeous, and I hope this exquisite fluttery butterfly feeling never fades. I can see it now, I’ll be an old woman and still infatuated with him. Oh yes, how wonderful would that be?
‘Already missing you.’ I blow a kiss as he goes to leave.
‘Sweet Jesus, what are you doing to me, woman?’ Tom turns back to the bed and gives me another kiss, his lips hot on mine, one hand in my hair, the other tantalisingly close to my knickers. I open my eyes to sneak a peek at his long dark lashes. I’ll say it again … he is officially gorgeous! The perfect blend of chiselled features and delicious Mediterranean real tan – his mother is Italian. ‘I just can’t resist you. And when are you going to move in with me? All this coming and going just isn’t practical any more.’ He goes to tickle me just as Mr Cheeks, my supersoft black cat, leaps onto the bed and snuggles down beside me.
‘Too slow.’ Laughing, I roll away, almost squashing Mr Cheeks with my left thigh. ‘Aw, poor thing, I’m so sorry.’ I scoop the cat up and bury my face in his silky fur.
‘Don’t avoid the question. It really would make things easier; it doesn’t seem sensible, all this toing and froing. And you can bring this little dude too, if you like.’ Tom lifts Mr Cheeks from the bed and gives him a gentle hug before depositing him on the carpet, much to the cat’s disgust. He likes nestling on the end of my bed; now he slinks off to the kitchen in a huff instead – I can always tell by the way his tail wafts extra-majestically, and I imagine he’d be giving us the finger right now, if he could …
