Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (22 page)

Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms, satiated
and spent.

Franco drew her closer and kissed her temple. “I
told you when this was over, I’d take you somewhere exotic and
isolated. I want you all to myself. I want to make love to you all
day.”

“Sounds heavenly,” she said, scrunching closer to
him. “But I have a job to get back to.”

He pulled away to look into her eyes. “I’m sure
Logan will give you some time off. A friend of mine owns a place in
the Caymans. I know he’ll let us use it. I’ll call him today.”

“Then after that, what happens to us, Franco?” She
was afraid of the answer but she had to ask.

His expression sobered. “I can’t promise anything,
Jo,” he said quietly, maybe even regretfully. “I’m not the settling
down type. Stay with me here for awhile. We’ll have fun. Be
together.”

Her heart shattered into a million pieces, like
crystal hit by a hammer. She really was just another woman to
him.

Fighting tears, she scooted to the other side of the
bed. “Sorry, Franco. Doesn’t work for me. I’m going back to Tucson.
Today.” She slid out of bed and strode toward the door.

“Don’t leave, Jo. Not yet. Stay with me.”

She turned to face him in all his naked glory,
confusion on his beautiful face. She loved him so much. She doubted
she’d love anyone like this again. Her heart broke a little
more.

“What do you want from me, Jo?”

“Something you apparently can’t give. Go to work,
Franco. I’ll be gone by the time you get home.”

He stepped back as if stung, but before she had time
to regret her words, he smiled that insolent player smile she knew
all too well. “I see. Well then take the company jet,” he offered
almost casually. “You deserve that at least. I’ll have Ruth make
the arrangements. She’ll call you later.”

<><><>

Jo stood in the entry hall, her duffel bag at her
feet. While they’d slept, two of Franco’s site foremen had replaced
the broken front door with a sturdy new one and switched out the
steel back door to the original one. Everything in Franco’s life
was settling back into place. Her life would never be quite the
same again.

She pulled the collar of the leather jacket a little
closer over her silk blouse and adjusted her skinny jeans. She’d
left most of the beautiful clothes Franco had bought her. She’d
taken some of the delicate lingerie, a few pairs of jeans, some
tops, the large designer handbag, and the leather jacket with the
matching boots that she wore now. And the silver stiletto
sandals.

She’d changed in the time she’d been there. Franco
had taught her to appreciate her femininity, to be proud of her
looks. Taught her that no matter how she dressed, she was the same
person inside. She hadn’t lost herself as she’d once feared. More
importantly, he’d helped her on a deeper level. Because of him,
she’d let go of her demons, seen them diminish on her soul’s
horizon until they were gone, where they wouldn’t bother her ever
again. He’d freed her sensuality, made her a complete woman. She’d
always be grateful. She blinked back tears. So why wasn’t she
happy?

Franco’s assistant had made all the arrangements for
the Callahan jet to fly her to Tucson, had even hired a car to
drive her to the airport. Her ride would be here any minute.

Part of her wanted to cry, but another part of her
was dead. Franco didn’t love her. She refused to be one of his kept
women, someone he’d discard when he tired of her, the way he had
Lynn and the others. She deserved better than that.

A black limo glided to a stop outside. Her ride was
here.

<><><>

He was an idiot. Franco looked out the large window
in his office and stared across the city to the statue of William
Penn atop Philadelphia’s City Hall. “I’ll bet you were never this
stupid, were you, old Billy?”

Raking fingers through his hair, he paced his
office. Jo was gone. And he had let her walk away. What kind of
fool was he? He’d been living under his player image for too long.
He’d gotten used to hiding his true self from the world. Despite
what he’d been through the past four years—the fear that others
would see the real him and find him wanting had stayed with him. Jo
had seen through him. He didn’t have to hide anymore. She’d shown
him that.

And he’d let her go.

He strode out of his office to his assistant’s desk.
“Ruth, did our jet leave for Tucson yet?”

She glanced at the clock. “It should have taken off
about fifteen minutes ago.”

He swore. “Then move heaven and earth to get me on a
flight west. Today. Any flight to Arizona. Charter a plane if you
have to.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Half an hour later Franco stared at his computer
screen, not seeing the figures before him. He pushed away the pile
on his desk, scattering the papers. Shoving a hand through his
hair, he dropped his head into his hands. He’d lost Jo. She’d never
forgive him for being such a jackass.

“Heard you need a bodyguard, Callahan.”

The sultry female voice jerked Franco’s attention.
He lifted his head. His heart started to pound. He swallowed hard,
not quite believing what he saw. He made a last grab at his
careless cool. “Well, if it isn’t Josephine Fortune. What are you
doing here?”

She stepped into the room and deposited her duffel
bag on the floor. “I’m here to save your sorry ass.”

He got up from his desk and marched toward the door.
Leaning out, he said, “Take the rest of the day off, Ruth. I won’t
need that flight to Tucson after all.”

She smiled. “Anything you say.”

Franco closed his office door and turned to Jo. His
gaze scanned her. Dressed in a leather jacket, pale green silk
blouse, jeans that hugged her lithe body, and wearing high-fashion
boots, she was hip, cool, and sexy. A far cry from the fatigue-clad
spitfire who’d first shown up at his door. But inside she was the
same Jo, the warm, wonderful woman he loved.

“What are you going to save me from?” he asked.

She moved closer and ran her hand down his necktie.
“Tucson?”

“I was coming to get you.” He grabbed her hand and
pressed it to his chest. “What do I need saving from?”

“Yourself.”

His heart still pounding, he smiled. “Why?”

“Because without me, you’ll end up a bitter, lonely
old man. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Her full lips, pink and soft, beckoned. He bent and
took her mouth in a tender kiss, letting her know with his body how
much she meant to him. Pulling away, he slid his palm down her arm.
“I agree I need saving.”

“What kind of reward do I get for saving you?”

He laughed. “Demanding, aren’t you?”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, Callahan.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. “Don’t ever leave me
again.”

“Don’t ever send me away again.”

He slid his finger across her lips. “I love you, Jo
Fortune. I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Even when I
wore fatigues and combat boots?”

“I love you for who you are, not for what you
wear.”

“You could have told me sooner, you know.”

“Not really. I’d held onto my player image so long I
thought I was beyond redemption. My feelings for you scare me.
Always have.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “My feelings for
you scare me too.”

He crushed her to him and buried his face in her
hair. “Jo. My Jo. I almost lost you.”

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried, Callahan. You
taught me to have faith in myself, to believe in myself. I knew
deep down you loved me.” She pulled away and smiled up at him. “You
were too dense to know it. I’m no quitter. I wasn’t about to give
up on you.” She frowned. “You need to do one thing for me.”

“Anything, sweetheart.”

“You need to tell your family about your community
center, the charity, everything you’ve done for those kids, the
truth about Mac. Come clean. Don’t hide who you are anymore. You’ll
never be happy hiding parts of yourself.”

He took a step back. “It won’t be easy. I’ve kept
that part of myself locked away for so long.”

“Do it for me.”

“I’d give you the world if I could, Jo.”

“I don’t want the world. I want you, the real you,
the honest, big-hearted guy I love.”

The love shining from her magnificent green eyes was
almost his undoing. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took
her hand. “You’re the only person to really have faith in me, to
believe in me. For you, I’ll tell my family everything.”

Still holding her hand, he sank to the floor on one
knee.

“What are you doing?” she asked, startled.

“You’re more precious to me than gold, Jo Fortune.
Will you marry me?”

Tears sparkled from her eyes. He’d never seen her
look more beautiful and he’d never loved her more.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you big lug. Someone has
to look after you.”

With a laugh, he straightened and grabbed her by the
waist. He swung her around until they were both breathless from
laughing. He set her down and gazed into her eyes. “We’ll get
married as soon as we can. We’ll go shopping for rings
tonight.”

She wound her arms around his neck. “I love you,
Franco Callahan.” She stroked his face. “I have for a very long
time.”

“And I love you.”

***

“I
’m so nervous.” Jo stood
in front of the mirror in the dressing room off the church
vestibule and stared at her reflection, not quite believing the
stylish woman staring back was really her. The strapless white gown
with ruching on the sweetheart neckline and delicate lace over
satin skimmed her body to end in a small train. A green satin
ribbon adorned with a crystal brooch wound around her waist and
trailed down her back.

Her hair, thanks to Anita, fell in soft waves to her
shoulders and shone with gold highlights. She hadn’t wanted a veil.
Instead, a garland of white rosebuds circled her head. Her makeup,
also thanks to Anita, was perfect. But Jo knew the sparkle in her
eyes wasn’t from makeup but from her happiness. The June day was
brilliant. She’d soon marry the man she adored. Tomorrow they’d
leave for the Cayman Islands to spend a week alone in Franco’s
friend’s house, isolated from the rest of the world. A week to make
love, to laugh, to start their life together.

Next to her, Doriana gave Jo an assessing look.
“You’re gorgeous.”

“You are,” Anita echoed.

Jo blinked back tears. “I still can’t believe
today’s my wedding day.”

“You’d better not cry,” Anita said. “You’ll screw up
the terrific makeup job I did.”

Doriana and Jo laughed.

“That’s better,” Doriana said. “A bride should laugh
on her wedding day.”

Anita put her hand on her hip. “Fine advice from
you. You cried buckets the day you married Logan.”

Doriana patted her protruding belly. “I did, didn’t
I?”

Jo’s heart swelled as she looked from Doriana to
Anita. Her new family. She had a family now, one who loved and
accepted her. And a man who showed her every day how much he
worshipped her. He listened to her, respected her opinions,
believed in her. In everything he did and everything he said, he
made her feel cherished and real and loved. Overwhelmed with
happiness, she smiled at her two bridesmaids.

Doriana, at seven-months pregnant, had never looked
more beautiful. Both women looked amazing in the pale green silk
dresses that complemented their raven hair and creamy skin.

“You’re next, Anita,” Jo said.

Anita shook her head. “Not me. I’m perfectly happy
on my own.”

Doriana raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

Jo grinned at their good-natured teasing. Taking a
deep breath, she scanned the small room in the historic
Philadelphia church. The scent of roses wafted through the open
stained-glass windows, their sweetness holding the promise of sunny
days and moonlit nights in the arms of the man she loved. Their
reception after the ceremony would be held on the extensive grounds
of an elegant mansion on Philadelphia’s Main Line. A friend of Dan
Callahan’s owned the house and gladly lent it to them for the
wedding festivities.

A knock at the door made them turn. Lena, beautiful
in beige silk, peeked in. “We’re almost ready.”

“Oh, God.” Jo pressed a hand to her stomach where
the resident butterflies were going crazy.

“Jo, things will be fine,” Lena said, stepping into
the room. A smile on her face, she approached Jo. “You look
beautiful. My son is a lucky man. We’re lucky to have you in our
family.”

Jo blinked tears away and swallowed. “Thanks,
Lena.”

“Call me mom if you’re comfortable.”

“Mom.” Tears slipped down Jo’s cheeks.

Lena hugged her, then swiped at her own tears.
“Thank you for helping my son. We’re so proud of all he’s done. We
don’t understand why he couldn’t tell us before.”

“It’s complicated. Tell him how proud you are of
him. Franco needs to know that.”

“We’ve told him,” Lena said. “And we’ll continue to
tell him.”

The strains of Pachelbel's
Canon in D
from
the string quartet in the church filled the room. Doriana and
Anita’s cue.

“Oh, God,” Jo said again.

Lena gave Jo another hug. “I’ve got to get out
there. The usher’s waiting to escort me down the aisle.”

“Go, Mom,” Doriana said. “We can’t go until you’re
seated.”

Lena hurried from the room.

“Don’t worry, Jo. Everything will be fine,” Doriana
said, giving her a hug.

“My turn,” Anita said. She hugged Jo. “Go get that
cousin of mine.”

Feeling slightly more relaxed, Jo grabbed her
bouquet of white rosebuds and followed her bridesmaids from the
room. Logan, handsome as always in a dark blue suit with a white
rosebud boutonniere, stepped from the shadows. His hazel eyes,
flecked with gold, shone with love when he looked at Doriana. He
bent to give his wife a peck on the cheek.