Revenge Wears Prada Read Online Free PDF

bathing suit.”
    “A bathing suit? I’m sure I’ll also need to—”
    Emily handed her an oversize DVF straw tote. “Bikini—high waisted for you, of course—the cutest little Milly cover-up, floppy sun hat, and SPF 30, oil-free. For afterward, bring those belted white shorts you wore yesterday and pair them with this linen tunic and those cute white Toms. Any questions?”
    Andy laughed and waved good-bye to Emily before dumping the contents of the tote on her bed. She grabbed the hat and the sunblock and tossed them back into the bag, adding her own bikini, jean shorts, and tank top. There was only so far she was willing to go with Emily’s dictatorial costuming, and besides, if Max didn’t like her look, that was his problem.
    The afternoon was perfection. Together Andy and Max went tooling around in Max’s little speedboat, jumping in the water to cool off and feasting on a picnic lunch of cold fried chicken, sliced watermelon, peanut butter cookies, and lemonade. They walkedon the beach for nearly two hours, barely noticing the midday sun, and fell asleep on the cushy lounge chairs beside the Harrisons’ glistening, deserted pool. When she finally opened her eyes what felt like hours later, Max was watching her. “You like steamers?” he asked, a funny little smile on his face.
    “Who doesn’t like steamers?”
    They each threw one of Max’s sweatshirts over their bathing suits and jumped in his Jeep Wrangler, where the wind whipped Andy’s hair into a wonderful, salty mess and she felt freer than she had in ages. When they finally pulled up to the beach shack in Amagansett, Andy was converted: the Hamptons were the best place on earth, so long as she was with Max and there was always a bucket of steamers with cups of melted butter beside her. Screw city weekends. This was heaven.
    “Pretty good, aren’t they?” Max asked as he shucked a clam and tossed the shell in a plastic discard bucket.
    “They’re so fresh some of them are still sandy,” Andy said through a full mouth. She munched her corn on the cob unself-consciously despite a dribble of butter running down her chin.
    “I want to invest in your new magazine, Andy,” Max said, looking her straight in the eyes.
    “Really? That’s great. I mean, that’s more than great, it’s fantastic. Emily said you might be interested, but I didn’t want—”
    “I’m really impressed with everything you’ve done.”
    Andy could feel herself blush. “Well, to be honest, Emily has done almost everything. It’s incredible how organized that girl is. Not to mention connected. I mean, I don’t even know how to put together a business plan, never mind a—”
    “Yeah, she’s great, but I mean everything you’ve done. When Emily approached me a few weeks ago, I went back and read almost everything you’ve written.”
    Andy could only stare at him.
    “The wedding blog you write for? Happily Ever After ? I have totell you, I don’t read much about weddings, but I think your interviews are excellent. That feature you did on Chelsea Clinton, right around the time she got married? Really well done.”
    “Thank you.” Her voice was a whisper.
    “I read that investigative piece you did for New York magazine, the one on the restaurant letter-grading system? That was so interesting. And the travel piece you did on that yoga retreat? Where was that? Brazil?”
    Andy nodded.
    “It made me want to go. And I assure you, yoga is not my thing.”
    “Thanks. It, um . . .” Andy coughed, trying hard to suppress a smile. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”
    “I’m not saying it to make you feel good, Andy. I’m saying it because it’s all true. And Emily has given me an initial sketch of your ideas for The Plunge, which I think sound terrific, too.”
    This time Andy allowed herself a wide grin. “You know, I have to admit I was skeptical when Emily approached me with her idea for The Plunge. The world didn’t seem to need another wedding