Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (2 page)

“Jo, I’m not doing this. I’ll take my chances.”

His words pulled her from her jumbled thoughts. She
sucked in a breath and looked at him. “It’s not your choice. I’m
staying.”

His eyes narrowed and he shot her a wicked grin. It
made him look somehow sexier and sent unwanted pleasure rocketing
through her. He walked around her, scrutinizing her. Then he stood
in front of her again, so close she could smell his cologne, no
doubt expensive, with just a hint of sandalwood. Everything about
him reeked of money. He was so out of her league. She shook her
head as if she could dislodge her disquieting thoughts. He was a
job. Nothing more.

He touched her chin with his fingers and tilted her
face until their eyes met. “Maybe you’ll do.”

She jerked free. “What are you up to?”

“My cousin Anita is the best stylist in the city.
She can do something with that hair.” He touched her braid where it
rested on her shoulder. His eyes darkened, and he brushed a finger
over her lips. Her skin tingled where he touched. She should pull
away, but she didn’t want to. She’d spent untold nights lying in
her bed, her lonely bed, thinking of him. The thought hit her like
a splash of icy Delaware River water.

She stepped back, putting distance between them. She
didn’t need a man, especially a rich guy who’d had the world handed
to him. Besides, no decent man would want her. Hadn’t she been told
that before?

A mischievous gleam glinted in Franco’s eyes. “If
you’re so hell bent on masquerading as my girlfriend, you have to
look the part. We’ll get you a new hairdo, new wardrobe, make you
into the kind of woman I’d take as my lover.”

“No. Take me as I am. Don’t think you can chase me
away by threatening to turn me into a sexpot. You need me.”

He waved a hand. “You want this charade, you play by
my rules.”

“What will your real girlfriend say if she sees me
all glammed up? It’ll be easier to convince her to go along with
this if I’m myself.” The thought of Franco and any lover tugged at
her heart, swirling sadness through her. She’d seen him numerous
times, always parading a leggy blonde. It shouldn’t bother her now.
Yet, it did.

“I haven’t had a girlfriend in more than six
months.”

“Losing your touch, Callahan?”

He moved closer. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

She glared at him, then released a resigned sigh.
“I’ll go along with your rules.”

He gave her another of his wicked smiles that made
excitement jolt all the way to her toes.

“Game on,” he said.

***

F
ranco was sure he’d seen
hurt in her beautiful green eyes when he’d voiced what they both
knew—Jo Fortune wasn’t his type. Even though he’d known her for
years, there were depths to her he couldn’t fathom.

She’d lifted her chin, defiance in her stance. Truth
be told, he enjoyed sparring with her. Jo was a lot more
fascinating than most of the women he’d dated. She took as good as
she gave, and she never gave an inch. Yet, there was something
different about her now, a new softness that brought her
vulnerability closer to the surface. He hadn’t meant to hurt
her.

“I have a ton of work, as you can see.” He waved a
hand over his desk. “I’ll be here until late. I don’t have time now
to discuss all the ramifications of this…this situation. But I do
have some questions that can’t wait. Sit.” He gestured for her to
sit again.

She arched an eyebrow but sat down, crossing one
booted foot over her ankle. “What questions? Shoot.”

He sat too, then leaned forward, locking his gaze
with hers. “I get why you and my brother-in-law have concocted this
whole scenario. But it’s not a good idea. People who know me won’t
buy it. I’ve never lived with a woman.”

“Really?”

“I like my space.”
And I’ve never found any woman
interesting enough to have around
24/7
. Franco had the
feeling that living with Jo Fortune would be very interesting.

Jo rolled her eyes. “I’ll bet you love your
space.”

He ignored her jibe. “Even if we could convince
people you’re my live-in girlfriend, you can’t be with me every
minute. I have a company to run, and you can’t come with me to work
every day.”

She uncrossed her legs and grinned. “Logan is
smarter than that. He knew you’d need two bodyguards. That’s why he
hired Harris.”

Franco rubbed a hand down his face. “Why don’t you
and Logan just take over my life?”

“Settle down.” She gave a small laugh. “Logan isn’t
about to let a family member be killed, spoiled playboy or
not.”

He blew out a breath and let the playboy remark
pass. He’d probably never live down his reputation. Did he care?
Yeah, on some level he did. “Who is Harris?”

“He’s a PI slash bodyguard, an ex-SEAL our firm uses
when we need someone investigated or if some hotshot CEO on the
East Coast needs protection. As you well know, considering that
Logan caught the perp trying to bring down this company five years
ago, our security firm specializes in corporate espionage and
protection. What Logan did for Callahan Construction got our firm
lots of high profile cases. Harris has guarded some major CEO’s. So
have I. You’d be surprised what kinds of trouble those guys can get
themselves into.” She folded her arms across her chest. “We haven’t
lost one yet.”

A soft female voice diverted Franco’s attention to
the doorway. “Franco. Excuse me.” His assistant, Ruth, stood there,
a frown on her face.

“What is it, Ruth?”

She looked at Jo then back at him. “I’m sorry I
wasn’t here earlier. You didn’t tell me you had an
appointment.”

“Jo’s a friend,” he lied. Might as well start the
charade now, in case he decided to go along with this crazy scheme.
“What’s up?”

“There’s someone else here to see you. He says his
name is Harris. He doesn’t have an appointment either.”

“It’s okay, Ruth. Show him in.” These people really
were determined to take over his life.

A barrel-chested middle-aged guy, gray-haired and
dressed in a well-cut black suit, sauntered into the office. Jo
stood and nodded to the guy. “Harris. It’s good to see you again,
man.”

Harris gave an imperceptible nod toward Jo. “You’re
lookin’ good, darlin’. But then you always look good.”

An arrow of jealousy hit Franco like a shot between
the eyes. He definitely wasn’t thinking straight.

Hand held out, the guy headed toward him. “Hello,
Mr. Callahan, I’m Harris. I assume Jo’s been fillin’ you in.”

“A little.” Franco came around his desk and shook
the man’s hand. “Harris what?”

The other guy grinned. “Just Harris.”

“Call me Franco.” He looked over to find his
assistant hovering in the doorway. “Everything’s fine, Ruth. You
can leave us. Would you shut the door please?”

Still frowning, Ruth softly closed the door.

“Please sit, Harris.” Franco gestured to a second
chair facing his desk. The burly Harris lowered himself into the
chair. Jo sat down as well. Franco eased into his chair and shifted
his gaze between the two of them. Was something going on between
them? He dismissed the thought, and tamped down another hit of
ridiculous jealousy. The guy was old enough to be her father and
didn’t seem like Jo’s type, whatever that was.

“Franco doesn’t like the idea of my pretending to be
his girlfriend and living with him,” Jo said with a glance at
Harris. “He says I’m not his type.”

“Why not?” Harris shifted in his seat. “Any man
would want this lady on his arm.” Grinning, he edged forward, his
brown eyes on Franco. “I could move in with you if you don’t want
Jo.”

Franco brushed a hand over his hair. He didn’t see
any way out of this mess. If he wanted to stay alive, he’d have to
go along with their plan. But a choice between Harris and Jo? A
no-brainer.

He grabbed a pen from his desk and squeezed his
fingers around it, pressing away his annoyance. “I don’t like this
whole situation. I like my privacy, but I am in a jam. Privacy
isn’t worth much if I’m not alive to enjoy it. So, it looks like I
have to go along with you. No offense, Harris, but I don’t think
anyone will believe you’re my girlfriend.” He dropped his pen and
gave Jo what he hoped was a pointed look. “Jo can play the part,
but I’m not so sure anyone’s going to believe that either.”

“We’ve already been through that, Callahan,” she
muttered.

Did he imagine the twinge of hurt in her voice? A
spasm of regret tugged at him. “Remember what we agreed.”

Her clear green eyes, shadowed now, met his. “I said
I’d do it. Sheesh. You don’t believe me?”

He gave her his most flirtatious grin, trying to put
the sparkle back in her eyes. “No, not entirely.”

“What am I missing?” Harris asked.

“Franco wants to glam me up so people are more
likely to believe I’m his latest girlfriend.”

“You, glammed up?” Harris laughed. “That I’ve got to
see.”

Her faced pinked.

Franco had never known her to be so sensitive. He
missed his sparring partner, yet this new side of Jo made him want
to take her into his arms and comfort her. That was a thought he
needed to diffuse.

Jo straightened and looked at him with a sober
expression, all business now. “We’d better get started, map out our
plans. And we have questions for you.”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I need my tablet.” Jo strode to her duffel bag and
knelt to open it. She slipped a tablet out and powered it up as she
walked back to the desk.

As she settled into her chair, Harris dug into his
jacket pocket and pulled out a few pieces of wrapped hard candy. He
held them out to Jo and Franco, who both declined. Harris unwrapped
a piece and popped it into his mouth.

“Since I gave up smoking a few years ago, I’m never
without this candy,” Harris said.

Jo grinned at Harris. “Candy is better than
cigarettes, my friend.”

Fingers poised over her tablet, she turned to
Franco. “What’s happened since your car was blown up? Any more
phone calls?”

“A couple,” he said. “The guy always threatens to
kill me if I don’t give him the money.”

Harris bit down on his candy. “What money?”

Franco let out a frustrated sigh. “I have no idea.
Believe me, if I knew, I’d give him the money to save my life.”

“Is it always the same person who calls?” Jo
asked

“I think so.”

Jo typed in some notes, then looked at him. “What
are the police doing?”

“They can’t trace the calls. They’ve set up extra
patrols in my neighborhood, but the police are short-staffed and
can’t give me a lot of protection.”

“More reason you need us,” Jo said. “Anything
else?”

“I’ve already told the police, but here goes. I came
out of my house last Saturday morning to go for a run and a black
Escalade drove by. Someone fired shots from the car.”

“What?” Jo’s head came up. “They blow up your car,
then fire shots in your direction?”

He waved away her concern, if that was indeed what
it was. “They didn’t hit anywhere near me. I figured it was another
threat. If they’d wanted to kill me, they would have.”

“No more going anywhere alone and no more morning
runs until this is over,” she said. “Tell us everything, and don’t
leave out anything.”

<><><>

Jo flopped on the beige silk comforter in Franco’s
spacious guest room and put her hands behind her head, staring at
the ceiling, painted white in stark contrast to the dark green
walls. Harris had driven her in his bullet-proof Town Car to
Franco’s Delancey Street townhouse fifteen minutes ago, then left
to return to Callahan Construction, where he’d settle in to keep
Franco safe while he was at work. She smiled, thinking how
uncomfortable Franco was over this whole situation.

He wasn’t used to anyone giving him orders, that was
for sure. But if he wanted to save his life, he’d learn to listen
to Harris and her. They made a good team.

Despite the work Franco kept insisting he needed to
get back to, she and Harris had grilled him for forty-five minutes,
getting the names of his friends, acquaintances, business
associates, past and present, and former girlfriends. No one was
above suspicion. He’d squirmed a little when they’d asked about his
women. Surprising that he didn’t have a woman in his life now.

For the first time since she’d known him, Franco
Callahan was available. She tamped down the pleasure that began to
build in her. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what it
would be like to kiss him. Then her mind veered to imagine the feel
of those full lips on her mouth, trailing down her body. Fear
slammed into her, shattering the fantasy. She couldn’t go there.
She knew where it led—knew the hurt and the guilt.

She slid from the bed before her mind could betray
her again with dreams of what could never be. She’d been sent here
to do a job. Forcing her thoughts back to their elaborate plans,
she unpacked her duffel bag quickly and put her clothes in the
dresser drawers. The one closet in the room was bigger than her
bedroom back in Tucson. Now it was empty, but soon it’d be filled
with the kinds of clothes Franco insisted she needed. Anxiety
twisted in her gut.
Haute couture
wasn’t her style. She’d
look like a fool. Her face flushed at the thought of Franco
laughing at her.

In an effort to keep busy and focus on her job, Jo
decided on a quick tour of the large townhouse, decorated with
modern furnishings. Entering the room next to hers, she saw it was
a media room, outfitted with the latest TV and sound system and
comfortable-looking chairs, perfect for TV or movie viewing or
listening to music.

Two framed photographs on a side table snagged her
attention, pulling her from visions of soft music and Franco. She
strode toward the table and lifted one of the photos. Franco’s
parents, Lena and Dan, smiled from the picture. Dressed casually in
slacks and silk shirt, petite, dark-haired Lena looked the epitome
of the stylish matron. Dan, an older, slightly shorter version of
Franco, and dressed in slacks and a golf shirt, had his arm around
his wife. A sophisticated, handsome couple, good parents who loved
their children and grandchildren. Jo’s mouth tilted in a wry smile.
She sure didn’t know anything about parental love. That had died
along with her father.