Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (4 page)

“All business now, are we?” he said. “All right. Hit
me with your questions.”

“I need to satisfy my curiosity first.” She scanned
the elegantly decorated modern room. “The police report says your
house was broken into two weeks ago. Sofa cushions ripped, tables
overturned, drawers pulled out and emptied, food taken out of the
refrigerator and thrown on the floor. Glasses and dishes broken.”
She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “And a death threat
written in black marker on the living room wall. Is that
right?”

“Don’t forget the mattresses that were cut
open.”

Despite his nonchalant attitude, she’d seen the
glint of fear in his eyes. “Yet, when I look around, this place is
perfect. The upstairs is perfect. Your house looks like something
out of a magazine.”

“When you’ve got money, all it takes is a few phone
calls—” he swept a hand out “— to end up with all this. Next
question.”

“Marissa said something about a lawyer you hired.
She said she’s legal, but was still afraid I was going to send her
back to Mexico. What’s going on, Franco?”

“Let it go, Josephine. It has nothing to do with
what’s happening now. Marissa’s okay.”

“I need to know everything about your life, Franco.
You can’t pick and choose what to tell us. Sometimes the smallest
connection can unravel a bigger mystery. What are you into?”

“Next question.”

He’d closed down. He was the most stubborn,
hard-headed…

She sighed, knowing he had her in check. For now.
“Who else has a key to your place?”

“Just some kids. They come in to water my plants,
take out the garbage, things like that. I told them I don’t need
them for awhile.”

“Kids? You hire kids to water your plants and take
out your garbage? You can’t even do that for yourself? And you gave
them your key? How many kids? ”

His lips tilted in one of his sexy smiles. “I can do
a lot for myself. Care to find out?”

“Stop that. This is serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he said in a husky voice.

She ignored him and the warmth flooding her.
Lowering her gaze, she entered her notes, then looked back up at
him. “Who are these kids? I want names.”

“The kids are okay. You’ll have to trust me. I don’t
want them dragged into this. They won’t come around again until
it’s safe, so don’t worry about them. They’ve had it hard enough as
it is.”

Jo set the tablet on the table. “Damn it, Franco.
Cooperate.”

HiHiH

His jaw set in a stubborn line. “There are parts of
my life that are off-limits to everyone, including you and my
family.”

Jo rubbed the back of her neck to ease the tension
that had taken root. “All right. I’m letting it go for now, but no
one, and I mean no one—except you, me, and Harris—is to come in
here until the cops find whoever’s after you. And we need to change
your locks.”

“No need to change the locks. The kids and Marissa
will stay away.”

She leaned closer. “Locks get changed. And your back
door too. We need a more secure door there.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then clamped
it shut.

“What aren’t you telling me? You know I’ll find
out.”

His eyes darkened and his features relaxed. “You
want to know about me?” He reached for her and gently pulled her
toward him.

She flattened her palms on his chest. “Of course,
I—”

He touched the mole on her left cheek. “Your beauty
mark is a real turn-on.”

“It’s a mole.”

“On you, it’s sexy as hell.”

Before she knew it, his lips were over hers, soft at
first, then more demanding. He tasted like brandy and aroused male.
She stiffened even as a low moan escaped from her. Heat centered in
her stomach and flared outward. Anxiety, unwanted but always
present, reared up, diffusing the heat. She couldn’t do this. Not
with this man. She pushed away from him, her breathing ragged.

Wiping her hand across her mouth, she rasped, “Still
the player, I see.”

***

F
ranco stared at Jo’s
retreating back as she bolted from the room. The woman had him
reeling. She’d wanted him. There’d been no mistaking her response
to his kiss. But when she’d pulled away, her eyes had glittered
with fear, a fear he knew too well. He’d seen that look before,
more times than he’d care to admit. It couldn’t be. Stress must be
playing with his mind. Jo was too tough. His imagination was in
overdrive. And yet…

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

He wanted her. And Franco Callahan always got what
he wanted. But if what he suspected was true, he’d have to be
careful, go easy with her, bring her around slowly. He would never
hurt Jo. If he’d read the look in her eyes right, she’d been hurt
enough.

<><><>

“Most of my clients would kill for your hair.” Anita
Santisi, Franco’s cousin and one of Philadelphia’s top hair
stylists, loosened Jo’s hair from its braid and fluffed it out
until it streamed down Jo’s back. Feeling out of her element in the
upscale surroundings of Anita’s hair salon, Jo shifted
uncomfortably in one of the large chairs. She glanced around,
anything to avoid the wall of mirrors that reflected her very real
discomfort. The bustling salon was filled this morning with
sophisticated women dressed in the latest casual fashions. Somehow,
even wearing kimonos over their clothes, with dye on their hair or
sitting under dryers wearing plastic caps, the women projected high
chic. Flashes of gold and diamonds on fingers and wrists peeked
from the sleeves of the dark gray kimonos. Anita’s staff, men and
women alike, was young and beautiful and dressed in head-to-toe
black.

Anita had been welcoming and friendly since Harris
had dropped Jo off at the shop fifteen minutes ago. With her edgy
sophistication and sexy clothes, Anita had always rubbed Jo the
wrong way. While Anita and Doriana resembled each other with their
thick black hair and large gold-brown eyes, Doriana was softly
sweet to Anita’s sharp angles. Now Jo saw that despite Anita’s
brazen sexuality, her eyes were sad. Jo knew little about Anita’s
personal life except that a man had once hurt her badly. Maybe she
and Anita had more in common than anyone would think.

Jo sighed. Focusing on Anita diverted her from the
real purpose of her visit. She was here to get glammed up. She
hated that expression. Drawing on the well of pride that had always
been the source of her defense, she pushed aside her misgivings and
stole a glance in the mirror. She seldom wore her hair down. The
sunlight streaming through the large windows highlighted the golden
strands in her wildly flowing red hair. She wouldn’t admit it to
anyone, but she’d always been a tad vain about her hair.

“Girl, you are going to look ravishing when I’m done
with you,” Anita said.

Jo caught Anita’s gaze in the mirror and shot her an
ironic look. “You’d have to be a miracle worker to do that.” She
grabbed the mug of coffee from the worktable in front of her,
needing a little caffeine sustenance.

Anita frowned. “Why do you say that? You’re gorgeous
with those green eyes and high cheekbones. I’m only enhancing
nature. You’re going to drive Franco crazy. I can’t wait to see my
arrogant cousin taken down a notch or two.”

Widening her eyes, Jo nearly dropped her mug onto
the Formica counter. “I’m not here to drive him crazy. I’m here
to…you know why.” Franco had already explained Jo’s presence to his
cousin. Anita was family and could be trusted.

Anita came around to face her, leaning her hip
against the counter. “Seriously, Jo, there isn’t a part of you that
wants to see the man squirm? The times we’ve been together at
family gatherings, you and Franco are like two sparks, ready to
flare up the minute you touch.” She laughed softly. “Or like two
cats hissing at each other.”

She gave Jo a self-satisfied smile. “You two don’t
fool me one bit. Why do you think I’m so successful? I can read
people. You are going to have my cousin worshipping at your feet
when we’re done with you. The man’s already got a thing for
you.”

Jo laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Please,
Anita. I am in no way Franco’s type.”

“You think not? Girl, open your eyes.”

“They are very open to how Franco feels about me.”
She lowered her gaze. Anita had hit on a partial truth. When Franco
had kissed her yesterday, a part of her had been tempted to give in
to the curiosity that had eaten away at her from the first time
she’d met him. But fear had reared up as always, pounding in her
chest, driving her away. Franco was dangerous. He made her want
something she’d long ago decided she didn’t need.

Anita’s soft laugh cut into Jo’s gloomy thoughts.
“You’ll admit soon enough you and Franco have something going on.
Now, let’s wash this hair and I’ll work my magic, although it is a
shame to trim even a little of it.”

Twenty minutes later a new kind of anxiety wound
through Jo while Anita snipped her hair. As large swatches of her
damp hair fell to the floor, an overwhelming urge to run out of the
shop hit Jo. She gripped the chair arms.

“You look scared to death,” Anita said. “Trust me.
You’re going to love your hair when I’m finished.”

Jo forced herself to relax. “It’s just that in the
last sixteen years, since I was seventeen, I’ve only had my hair
trimmed a few times. In the Army I was allowed to keep it long, but
I had to wear it in a tight bun.”

“You’re not seventeen or in the Army now,
girlfriend. You’re a grown woman. You wouldn’t want to be seventeen
again. It’s not a good age, at least not in my family.” Anita shook
her head. “Doriana got pregnant with Josh when she was seventeen,
and Franco got himself into big trouble when he was that age. Even
Uncle Dan couldn’t get him out of it.”

Jo’s gaze met Anita’s in the mirror. “What kind of
trouble?”

“The usual kid stuff, but it wasn’t the first time
he’d gotten into trouble. Uncle Dan’s money and influence got him
out of it the other times. Let Franco tell you if he wants.” She
stopped snipping, a thoughtful look on her face. “Franco was the
sweetest little boy even though Doriana and I teased him
mercilessly. She’s four years older than him and I’m three.
Something changed when he became a teen. Got smartass and arrogant.
Maybe it was because Aunt Lena and Uncle Dan spoiled him. The
Italian-Irish prince. And he stayed arrogant and smartass until
Uncle Dan had the stroke. We’re all shocked at how Franco finally
manned up and put himself on the right track.” She shrugged. “Guess
he had it in him all along.”

<><><>

Jo blinked several times and looked into the mirror
again. Yup! That was her staring back. She touched her hair,
running her fingers through the shoulder length cut. The layering
brought out the golden highlights and framed her eyes. And the
makeup Anita had applied made her skin glow and covered up the
sprinkling of freckles on her nose. Her eyes looked wider and
greener now, and the subtle rose-colored blush brought out her high
cheekbones. Never having taken the time to learn to apply makeup,
Jo had eschewed it.

Anita’s smiling staff gathered around her, oohhing
and aahhing.

“I can’t believe the change in you,” one of the
shampoo girls said, awe in her voice.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” one of the stylists
said.

Jo flushed at their compliments. She must look like
a Christmas bulb with her red face and her red hair.

Anita studied her. “Jo, you are one of the most
beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

“You did it, Anita.”

The other woman shook her head. “I had a lot to work
with.” She nodded toward the small bag resting on the counter. “All
the products you need are in there. You remember how to use the
makeup and style your hair?”

Jo nodded.

“Okay, then, but if you ever need help with any of
that, call me.” Anita’s gaze swept Jo. “Time to burn those fatigues
and have you looking like a real girl. Come on, let’s go next
door.”

Jo groaned, making the women around her laugh.
Mitzi, the owner of the boutique next to the salon was a personal
shopper. She’d offered to outfit Jo in some new clothes now, then
take her shopping tomorrow at Neiman Marcus to choose an entire
wardrobe. Franco had insisted on paying for everything.
Embarrassment at the thought of him buying her clothes, including
lingerie, warred with indignation. The idea of Franco, or any man,
buying her clothes made her feel like a kept woman. No, she
wouldn’t go there. She wasn’t anyone’s woman. She’d been on her own
since she was eighteen, and she could take care of herself. At
least he hadn’t insisted on coming shopping with them.

Plastering a smile on her face, she waved goodbye to
the others in the shop and followed Anita out the door to the
boutique, her mind awhirl. Franco was picking her up in two hours
to take her to dinner. Their farce would begin tonight. Not for the
first time she wondered if she’d been too hasty to agree to this
whole masquerade. She’d never convince anyone that handsome, rich
Franco Callahan could be in love with someone like her.

<><><>

Two hours later Jo stood in Anita’s now-closed shop
and smoothed her hands down the sides of her short black dress. The
dress flared around her thighs, giving her movement. She’d insisted
on that. Above that, though, the stretchy material clung to every
curve, making her feel exposed, vulnerable. With each new piece of
clothing she’d slipped on she’d felt like she’d lost a little of
herself, lost the armor that had protected her all these years.

She tugged on the hem of her dress again and looked
down at the strappy black high-heeled sandals she wore. The sexy
shoes were surprisingly comfortable, and with her good sense of
balance, she’d gotten used to the high heels much quicker than she
would have imagined. A part of her longed for her sturdy, familiar
combat boots. Wearing fatigues and boots felt right. The slinky
black dress and high heels didn’t. At least the silly little
jewel-encrusted purse she carried was large enough to hold her gun,
in addition to her lipstick, a comb, and her phone.