Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2) (11 page)

He winked at her as he slid through the door, and
once again she remembered what they’d done the other night. Her
face burned hotter than the desert on a scorching day.

She waved to Harris, then closed the door, locked
it, and reset the alarm. When she turned around, Franco was staring
at her.

“What?” Her hand instinctively shot up to wipe her
mouth. “Do I have food on my face?”

He smiled that lopsided smile of his, and her heart
did a little flip.

“You’re so damn sexy,” he said.

She pressed against the door. “Let’s not go there.
We need to talk, mister. Like, right now.”

He loosened his tie. “I need to get out of these
clothes. How about you pour me a glass of wine and we’ll talk as
soon as I change. That Pinot Noir I opened the other night will
do.”

“Do I look like your maid?”

He stepped closer. “Please pour me a glass of wine,
Jo,” he said, speaking soft and low. “If you will.”

She slid away from the unwanted note of intimacy in
his voice. “Get changed and meet me in the kitchen.”

“Sure thing, boss.” With a salute, he bounded up the
stairs.

She couldn’t help smiling as she headed toward the
wine rack.

Jo set his filled wine glass at one end of the
center island. The woodsy aroma of the wine teased her nostrils and
tempted her. Once this assignment was over, she’d drink a whole
bottle of Pinot Noir. With a last, longing look at the deep
burgundy liquor, she settled onto a seat at the other end of the
counter, her tablet in front of her.

“Hey,” he said, coming into the kitchen. He glanced
at her tablet. “This looks serious.”

Dressed in a dark blue T-shirt and tight-fitting
faded jeans, Franco was smokin’ hot. She only had so much
willpower.

“Sit,” she said. “I need answers and you’re going to
give them.”

Eyebrows raised, he straddled one of the stools and
picked up his wine. He took a sip, set the glass down on the
granite top and caught her gaze. “This has something to do with the
guys who were here today, doesn’t it?”

She nodded. “It’s not safe for them to be here. What
if whoever’s after you had gotten hold of the boys? I thought you
were going to make it clear they can’t come here for awhile.”

He held up his hands. “I did. I had no idea they’d
show up.”

“I don’t think they’ll be back until you tell them
it’s okay. I worked out something with them. When they do come
back, you need to give them lots of work. Apparently you’ve
instilled a real work ethic in them, and you need to make them feel
they’re earning what you pay them.”

“Lady, with that tone of voice you could run some of
my construction sites. You’d straighten those guys right out.”

The teasing gleam in his eyes broke her resolve and
made her smile.

“You’re even more beautiful when you smile,” he
said. “You should do that more often.”

Trying to cover her discomfort at his compliment,
she picked up her tablet. Feeling more in control, she raised her
gaze to his. “I think you haven’t been completely honest with us,
Franco. We need to know everything about your life if you expect us
to protect you and the police to catch the people after you.”

His eyes hardened to blue chips, the teasing light
gone. “I’ve told you and the police everything I think you need to
know. There are parts of my life that are private, and they’ll stay
that way.”

Hurt knotted into a tight ball in her chest. Two
nights ago she’d trusted him with her body, but he wouldn’t trust
her when his life might depend on it.

Jo set her tablet on the counter, pressed her palms
on the cool granite, and leaned toward him. “That’s the problem.
You aren’t allowed to keep parts of your life secret. Don’t you get
that?”

“I get it, but I don’t like it.”

“Too bad. You’re not making the decisions here. I
am.” She sighed, settled back and picked up the tablet again. “The
boys talked about a youth center. Tell me about it. And I want the
truth.”

“Okay, okay.” He blew out a breath and raked fingers
through his hair as though he were about to argue and thought
better of it. “About ten years ago I helped start a center for
disadvantaged kids in the inner city. We’ve done good work, getting
the kids off the streets, teaching them skills. During the summer I
hire some of the older ones to work at my company’s construction
sites. The center has great volunteers. We try to teach the kids to
handle money and take personal responsibility. The kids who were
here today are three I’m mentoring. They’re good kids.”

Stunned, Jo put down her tablet. “You’ve done all
that? You have a good heart, Franco Callahan.”

He shot her a self-deprecating smile and picked up
his wine glass, studying the red liquid. “Don’t tell anyone. It
would ruin my reputation.” He sipped his drink, not looking at her.
When his gaze met hers again, hurt flashed in his eyes. “No one
will believe you anyway.”

“I believe you.”

“Really? Jo Fortune thinks I have a heart? Now I
know I’m slipping.”

She rolled her eyes, then picked up her tablet
again. “Tell me about the center. Why did you start it? Who helped
you?”

“I’m hungry,” he said, setting down his glass. He
got up and strode toward the huge side-by-side refrigerator. “Do
you want a sandwich?”

With a frustrated sigh she shoved her tablet aside.
Getting anything out of Franco was harder than cracking a titanium
double-lock safe. “Okay. I’ll help.” She started to get up, but he
waved her back down.

“Stay comfortable. I don’t need help. I make a mean
sandwich.”

She lowered herself onto the stool and watched as he
pulled rolls, a piece of leftover chicken breast, tomatoes,
lettuce, cheese, an avocado and condiments from the refrigerator.
Opening a cabinet door, he took out two plates.

Without looking at her, he finally said, “I got into
some trouble when I was a kid. Little stuff, stuff my dad was
always able to smooth away. But then I did something really stupid.
When I was seventeen, I stole a car.”

“You’re kidding.”

He glanced her way. “Pretty bad, huh?” With a shrug
he went back to assembling the sandwiches. “I avoided juvie, but I
had to give a year of community service. I was only too glad to do
anything the court asked to stay out of that hellhole.”

Jo put a hand to her mouth, wondering what he’d say
if he knew she’d barely escaped juvie herself.

“I did my community service at a youth center,
teaching the kids reading, writing, helping with some sports,” he
continued. “I saw a side of this city and a side of life I didn’t
know existed. All through college I kept thinking about the kids
I’d met at that center.” He put down the knife he was using to
slice the chicken and turned to her. “Some of those kids lived
lives of total desperation with no hope of anything good ever
happening. I had to do what little part I could to make things
better.” He picked up his knife again and went back to slicing.
“Whatever I do is never quite enough though. But I won’t ever
stop.”

She knew what he meant on a level most people
didn’t. Would that surprise him? Probably. At the regret in his
voice, she pushed up from her stool and went to him. He turned to
look at her.

“I know, Franco,” she said. “We all do the best we
can with what we’re given. There are some things that are out of
our control.” A small voice urged her to tell him more, to share
her own soiled past. But she couldn’t.

The knife fell out of his hand onto the counter with
a clang. Franco gathered Jo into his embrace and held her
tight.

“We can’t solve all the problems of the world.” Her
voice was muffled.

He pulled away and held her at arm’s length, his hot
blue gaze studying her. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “We’re
not going to solve any of the problems of the world—tonight at
least. Let’s eat.”

Later, Jo pushed away her empty plate. “That was
good. You were right. You do make a mean sandwich.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I aim to please.”

His teasing grin reminded her he knew how to please
her in so many ways. The thought pushed into her mind like a spring
bud reaching toward the light, soft and filled with promise. Trying
to cool her rising libido, she reached for her tablet, one of the
tools of her trade, and tonight a weapon against her traitorous
body and mind.

“I have more questions.” As they’d eaten, they’d
made small talk, but she had to get back to business.

He shifted on his stool and smiled. “I figured you
weren’t through with me.”

She ignored his double-entendre and the mischievous
glint in his eyes. “You started the center ten years ago. That
would be when you were twenty-five. Why haven’t I heard of this
before?”

“Because no one in my family knows.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. How could they not?”

“I didn’t want them to know. I got a nice chunk of
money from my parents when I graduated from college and I invested
that. I’m a silent partner in the center and that’s the way I like
it.”

“Who’s the other partner?”

He blinked and looked away.

“Franco?”

When he turned back to her, a look of resignation
washed over his features. “My original partner was Bob MacIntyre.
Mac. He’d been my best friend since high school. We started the
center and the charitable group to fund it. Mac was chief financial
officer.”

“What happened?”

“He died.”

“How?”

His features closed. “He died in prison. And that’s
all I’m going to say.”

Her instincts told her there was a lot more to this
story, that Mac’s death affected Franco more than he wanted to
admit. She resolved to get more out of him later.

“I’ve answered your questions,” he said. “Now I have
some of my own.”

“I don’t have to answer your questions. You’re the
one in trouble.”

“Who hurt you?”

Anxiety and shame pressed into her chest, stifling
her breath. She tried to look away, but the concern in his eyes
drew her like a moth to flame.

“Tell me, Jo.”

She didn’t know what to say. What to do. How could
he have guessed?

She blinked back tears. “I’ll clean up. You go
relax.”

***

J
o looked both ways
instinctively, though it was a one-way street. Franco was already
safe inside the car. After she slid into the back seat, Harris
closed her door and sank his heavy bulk into the driver’s seat. He
popped a piece of hard candy into his mouth before pulling away
from the curb. The butter-soft leather upholstery whispered around
her as she settled in. She stole a glance at Franco, careful to
keep distance between them. With his dark indigo jeans, white
T-shirt and black leather jacket, his short hair slightly mussed,
and a day’s growth of dark stubble, his dangerous, sexy appeal made
her heart hammer and her mind conjure erotic fantasies. It had been
a whole week since he’d given her that mind-blowing orgasm.

Get over it already. He has.

He hadn’t touched her in a sexual way since that
night.

The car purred along, headed toward I-95 and the New
Jersey Turnpike to Rumson, where Lynn DiGiacomo lived. Jo could
think of better ways to spend an April Saturday than visiting one
of Franco’s former girlfriends.

She absently brushed a hand along her denim-covered
thigh. The designer jeans were shockingly expensive, as were her
yellow combed cotton sweater and glove-soft tan leather jacket. Her
mid-heel boots were the same leather as the jacket. She hated to
admit it, but the well-fitting jeans that hugged her butt and the
leather boots and jacket, so different from the loose-fitting
androgynous fatigues she favored, made her feel special and
feminine. She was getting used to being a woman, to showing off her
figure. Appalled at the direction of her thoughts, she sucked in a
breath and concentrated on watching the city flash past as the
smooth-riding car ate up the roadway.

“You really think this is going to work?” Franco
asked, drawing her attention.

She faced him, grateful to talk business. “Your
girlfriend won’t talk to the police but she agreed to see you. If
she’s telling the truth that she’s got information that might help
us, it’s worth a shot.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and his brow furrowed.
“She was never my girlfriend. We only dated a few weeks. I don’t
quite trust Lynn. She doesn’t always tell the truth. She likes to
please. She used to do whatever I asked and she’d tell me whatever
she thought I wanted to hear.” His eyes met Jo’s. “I like my women
with a little fight in them. And a lot of honesty.”

“Could have fooled me. I thought you liked shallow,
malleable women.”

“I dated women like that because they expected
nothing from me but a good time. No one ever expected much from me
anyway so why not enjoy myself?”

“Sure, why not?
Carpe diem
and all that.”
Despite her glib reply, she’d seen the way his eyes shadowed. She
forced herself to look out the window again. The intimate confines
of the car were playing havoc with her emotions. For a second,
she’d thought Franco had allowed her a glimpse into his soul. How
foolish.

As if realizing he’d revealed too much, his voice
took on that arrogant note she knew so well. “Jealous, Jo? Maybe
those women have, or had, something you want.”

She twisted her head around to face him. “You’re
disgusting.”

“Losing your cool, Ms. Fortune? I must be getting to
you.”

Refusing to answer, she turned toward the window
again. Franco was getting to her all right. Pieces of her hard-won
control, along with pieces of her heart, crumbled a little more
every day she spent with him. She should have fought Logan harder
when he presented her with this assignment.