Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (10 page)

She bit back a groan. Her nipples puckered, and her
breasts felt swollen, needy. “What are you doing?” she ground
out.

“What does it feel like?” He caressed one breast,
his thumb massaging the nipple through the silk and lace.

“We can’t. I work for you.”

“I know.” Pulling her closer, he bent and lightly
brushed his lips over her cleavage, then, with agonizing slowness,
kissed his way to her neck.

She gripped his shoulders, fighting the fierce need
his touch provoked. He continued to seduce her with hot kisses, his
gentle caress of her breast. Her legs felt watery as if her bones
were dissolving. With a low moan, she threw back her head,
surrendering.

He kissed the sides of her mouth, then slid his
tongue along the seam of her lips. He tasted like coffee and cognac
as she opened to his invasion. Their tongues danced and mated in an
erotic byplay.

Together, they slid onto the sectional, Franco on
top of her. Hungry for him, Jo wrapped her arms around his neck and
deepened the kiss. Her body on fire, she barely recognized her low
moans of pleasure.

Finally, he pulled away and propped himself up on
his elbows to stare down at her. “I want you.”

The heat of his eyes held her captive. Words dried
in her throat. She touched his face, his beautiful face. Her mind
told her to stop. Her body craved him. Her soul needed him. What
could it hurt to give into her needs just this once?

With a small smile, he slid off the sectional to
kneel on the floor next to her. Slowly, with tenderness, he slipped
her dress off her shoulders to her waist, then he unclasped her bra
and tossed it aside. His eyes, hot and wicked, seared her.
“Delicious.”

Cradling one of her breasts, he took the nipple into
his mouth. Arching her hips, she scraped her fingers on the soft
leather of the sofa and gave herself over to his skilled mouth and
tongue.

He turned to her other breast, massaging, licking
and sucking. A fresh wave of wetness seeped onto her lacy thong and
hot need wracked her as Franco continued his exquisite torture.
Something began to build in her, a raging storm she couldn’t
control. Nothing existed but her and Franco and the desperate need
that slammed the breath out of her. Little cries broke from her as
she twisted beneath him.

“Not yet, Jo.”

Did she imagine the slight tremble in his voice?

He straightened and slipped a hand under her dress,
stroking the inside of her thigh. Burning desire overtook her.
Moaning, she gave herself over to his sensual touch. He pushed her
dress up to her waist, then slid off her thong. Exposed now to the
desire that flamed from his eyes, she gasped and put out a hand to
shield her most private parts from his gaze.

Gently brushing her hand away, he said, “Easy. I
won’t hurt you.” He stroked the curls at the apex of her
thighs.

She bit her lip as old memories, old fears pressed
against her mind. No, she wouldn’t let the memories in. She wanted
Franco. He wasn’t like the others. He wouldn’t hurt her. She
trusted him.

Then he was kissing her there, so tenderly, so not
like those other times. She began to relax, to surrender. When he
slipped one finger, then another into her, she almost purred. He
moved slowly at first, then faster and harder.

She gripped the edge of the cushion and twisted her
head from side to side as her whimpers of pleasure filled the
room.

“Like that?” he rasped.

“Yes,” she croaked out.

Need, molten and overwhelming, built in her, a
tempest growing stronger and stronger. The storm rolled over her in
flaming waves, taking her to a place she’d never been. All thought
fled as he drove his fingers into her. Heat pumped into her veins
and an ache built between her legs. Her world spun out of control.
She cried out his name as shudders racked her.

When her trembling body settled down, Franco slid
his fingers out of her and kissed her mound. Then he brushed the
hair from her face. “Okay?”

She opened her eyes to his scorching gaze. “More
than okay. That was…wonderful. I’ve never…that’s never…”

He furrowed his brow. “You’ve never…what, Jo?”

Embarrassment warmed her cheeks. “I’ve never…” She
took a deep breath. “I’ve never felt like that before. That’s never
happened.”

With gentleness, he fixed her dress to cover her
nakedness, then helped her sit. He sat next to her and gathered her
to him, stroking her hair. “You’ve never had an orgasm before?”

She buried her face in his neck and shook her head.
He was a man of the world, he’d been with sophisticated women. What
must he think of her?

“You haven’t been with the right man, Jo.”

The right man
. His words hit her with the
force of a pail of cold water thrown in her face. She couldn’t tell
him those things she’d kept hidden. She didn’t want his pity, or
worse, his disgust. When she’d confessed her darkest secret to her
ex-fiancé, he’d thrown her aside in revulsion. She couldn’t handle
Franco’s rejection.

She pushed against him and stood. He stood with her,
a confused look on his face. When he reached for her, she flinched
and stepped away, putting the coffee table between them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“That was wrong. All wrong.”

“It was right. Very right.” He moved to the other
side of the table and leaned close. “You want me as much as I want
you,” he said with quiet determination. “I’ll get past whatever
armor you’ve got. And when I do, I’ll make you mine.”

Anger flared. She pulled it around her like a heavy
coat. “You don’t own me. No one does, especially not some man.” She
blinked away tears, hiding her fears. “Don’t touch me again,
Franco.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Try me.” Even as she said the words, she knew it
was an empty threat. Franco Callahan could melt her with a touch or
a look. She’d have to be careful

Because she knew Franco didn’t really want her. He
wanted the conquest.

***

M
onday afternoon, loud
cursing, followed by the rattle of a key being forced into a lock
had Jo instantly awake and alert. She jumped out of bed, grabbed
her jeans and a T-shirt from the chair and yanked them on. A quick
glance at the bedside clock told her it was just before two in the
afternoon. Still adjusting her top, she scooped up her gun and
raced down the stairs.

Voices came from the other side of the front door,
then the rattling sound of a key again. Good thing she’d convinced
Franco to change the locks. Apparently whoever was out there had a
key to the old lock. She sighed. Still another individual Franco
had given a key to?

She looked through the peephole. Three teens, two
Hispanic-looking and one African-American, huddled together,
staring at the door and cursing.

“What do you want?” she shouted through the
door.

All three heads jerked up and looked around.

Finally one of the Hispanic youths said, “We came to
water Mr. Franco’s plants and take out the garbage.”

“He told you he didn’t need you for awhile.”

“We came anyway,” the black youth said. “He’s payin’
us to do nothin’. We’re no slackers. We work for our money.”

“For God’s sake,” Jo muttered. Her sleep was
interrupted for this? “What are your names?”

The African-American kid stepped away from the door
so she could see him more easily. He touched his chest. “I’m
Marcus.” Tilting his head, he said, “And this here is Pedro and
this is Felipe.”

The others stepped back too and nodded.

“Just a minute,” she said.

Somehow she believed the kids. But in her line of
work she’d learned to take no one at face value. Without a tangible
lead as to who was after Franco, she’d take no chances. Hurrying
into the living room, she snatched up the phone and punched in
Franco’s cell phone number.

He answered immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“There are three young men standing at your door,
wanting to come in and water your plants and take out the garbage.
Their names are Marcus, Pedro, and Felipe. Sound like anyone you
know?”

“What are they doing there? I told them to stay
away.”

“Apparently you didn’t make yourself clear.”

“They’re okay. Let ’em in.”

“All right, I will and I’ll also make sure they
understand they can’t come back.” She disconnected the call and
hoped these were the last of her unexpected visitors.

Jo disengaged the security alarm, and holding her
gun behind her back, cautiously opened the door. A quick look
showed no one else on the street.

“Get in here.” She stood aside to usher them in,
then closed the door and locked it.

Giving her astonished looks, they crowded into the
entry way. They were all scrawny as hell. She could take them down
easily if necessary.

“Who are you?” Pedro asked.

“I’m a friend of Fra…Mr. Franco’s.”

They gave her assessing looks, as if they couldn’t
quite believe Franco had a woman living there, or maybe they knew
his reputation with leggy blondes. She didn’t fit the stereotype,
especially with her hair mussed and wearing jeans and a T-shirt,
and with her feet bare and her hand behind her back.

“What’s your name?” Marcus asked.

“Jo.”

“Funny name for a girl,” Felipe said.

“Can we go into the living room?” Pedro asked.

“Go ahead.” Before following them, she engaged her
gun’s safety, then shoved the gun behind her into the waistband of
her jeans and pulled her T-shirt over it.

“Mr. Franco asked you not to come for awhile,” she
said after they’d all edged into the living room.

Felipe’s brown eyes studied her. He seemed to decide
she was okay because he visibly relaxed. “We know, but it ain’t
right he pays us for not working. He taught us to give a good day’s
work for pay. ”

“What do you mean, Mr. Franco taught you?” Jo
asked.

“He teaches us things, at the center,” Marcus
said.

“He owns the center,” Pedro said.

“No he doesn’t, you jerk,” Felipe said. “The city
owns it.”

“He pays for it, and you’re a jerk,” Pedro said with
narrowed eyes.

“Boys, that’s enough,” Jo said. “What center is
this?”

“The Second Chance Youth Center in North Philly,”
Marcus said.

“And Franco comes there a lot?” she asked.

Felipe shook his head. “Not so much anymore, but he
said he’d be back. Is he in trouble?”

“No,” Jo lied. She didn’t want to drag them into
this mess. She also had to be sure they didn’t come back until the
police caught whoever was after Franco. She’d never forgive herself
if anything happened to these kids.

She glanced at the wall clock, then back at Marcus.
“It’s only two o’clock. Shouldn’t you all be in school?”

“Nah,” he said. “No school today. It’s a teacher
service day or somethin’.”

“Okay then. You guys do what Mr. Franco’s paying you
to do. I have some fresh-made iced tea in the refrigerator. How
about some of that when you’re done?”

“Cool,” Pedro said.

Smiling, Jo moved closer to them, hopefully gaining
their trust. “Listen up, guys. I know you want to help Mr. Franco,
but you really can’t come back here until he tells you it’s okay.
What if I make sure he gives you lots of extra work later so you
know you’ve earned your salaries? What do you think?”

“Um,” Marcus said, looking at the ceiling.

“Okay with me,” Felipe said.

“Me too,” from Pedro.

“I guess,” Marcus said.

“Cool, guys. Now get to work and I’ll get that tea
ready.”

What had they meant about the youth center? There
was a whole side of Franco Callahan she knew nothing about.

<><><>

Jo stifled a yawn and sipped more of her coffee, her
fourth cup of the day. She hadn’t been able to get back to sleep
after the kids left. They’d worked hard, taking their tasks
seriously. She smiled. If Franco had instilled that work ethic in
them, he’d done a good job.

As she sat at the kitchen island, the quiet closed
around her, a silent reminder of the loneliness of her life,
especially now, all by herself in Franco’s expensive townhome.
She’d liked having the three boys here, hearing their laughter as
they teased each other. She’d been sorry to see them go.

Franco would be home soon, then her loneliness would
be shoved aside for a time. She ran her hand over the rim of her
mug as desire, unwanted and unbidden, stole over her. Whenever
Franco was near, everything around her, even the most mundane
objects, seemed to take on a new vibrancy. He brought excitement
and a lust for life that encompassed all he touched, even her.

She closed her eyes and let the memory of his
lovemaking two nights ago roll through her mind, imagining his
hands and mouth on her again. Her dreams had been filled with
erotic images of him, disrupting her sleep. She pressed a hand to
her stomach, reliving the wildness and passion he’d incited. And
the climax that had sent her to the stars and back. Could he do it
again? Would he try? He’d left her to herself since that tumultuous
evening after the wine shop booksigning, apparently backing down
from the challenge she’d flung at him to “try her.”

Yesterday, Sunday, Harris had driven Franco to the
gym early. When he got home, he’d closeted himself in his home
office. Other than eating takeout together, they’d managed to avoid
each other. But today she had to face him.

Her cell phone rang and she jumped, grateful for the
noisy intrusion. She snatched the phone off the counter and looked
at the name on the ID, then grinned.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you on your way?”

“Hey, darlin’, we’re headin’ out now,” Harris said.
“You need anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

“See you in fifteen.”

“Thanks, man.”

A little more than fifteen minutes later she heard
the sedan pull up and ran to look through the peephole, then opened
the door to Franco. Watching him race up the steps, that sculpted
body the well-cut gray suit couldn’t quite hide, the short dark
hair and the brilliant blue eyes, revived her long-abandoned wish
for a home and family. Husband, kids, dog, cat, the works.