Franco's Fortune (Redemption Book 2)

  Franco’s Fortune

  by

  Cara Marsi

  ***

  Franco’s Fortune

  Cara Marsi

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Carolyn Matkowsky

  Discover other titles by Cara Marsi at Smashwords.com and CaraMarsi.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Carolyn Matkowsky.

  This book is a work of fiction and all characters exist solely in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any references to places, events or locales are used in a fictitious manner.

  Edited by Laura Kelly

  Formatting by Sandra Edwards

  Cover by Harris Channing

  ***

  "When a female bodyguard is hired to protect a rich playboy, she finds saving his life is easier than protecting her heart."

  When the past and present collide...

  Somebody wants rich playboy Franco Callahan dead. When security expert Josephine Fortune arrives on his doorstep thanks to his sister Doriana, Franco finds it hard to refuse. He's had a secret attraction for the diminutive bodyguard since they met at Doriana's wedding five years before.

  But attraction is all it is. Combat boot-clad Jo is not the kind of woman Franco usually loves and leaves. Which makes the ruse that Jo is his new live-in girlfriend just that until Jo gets a makeover. Suddenly seduction is on his mind and Franco has all the time in the world to pursue it—and Jo.

  Martial artist Jo can take down men twice her size without blinking, but Franco's appeal outmaneuvers her emotional defenses. Jo's tough exterior hides a dark past, and Franco seems determined to learn her every secret. But he has secrets of his own.

  The more Franco gets to know Jo, the more he realizes he needs her in his life, and not as his bodyguard. But as the threats to Franco escalate, Jo must use every one of her combat skills to protect him.

  Can Jo keep both Franco and her heart safe, or will they pay the ultimate price for love?

  ***

  Chapter One

  Franco Callahan slammed the door to his Delancey Street townhouse and hurried into the April morning, glancing at his watch as he ran down the steps. He was late. He’d wanted to get to work early. He had a busy day ahead. His mind on the Connecticut casino bid and the pile of work waiting on his desk, he strode along the uneven pavement to his black Mercedes parked at the other end of the narrow street.

  He answered his ringing phone as he hurried toward his car, and heard a deep male voice rasp, “You didn’t get our message the first time, Callahan. You’ve forced us to play dirty. Give us the money and we might let you live.”

  The menace in the stranger’s voice chilled Franco, tightening his gut. “Who is this?”

  “Maybe you’ll listen to our new message.” The call disconnected.

  Franco stared down at his phone.

  An ear-splitting boom rent the air, vibrating the ground beneath his feet. The blast sent Franco on his rear, the breath knocked out of him. Ears ringing, struggling to sit, he saw a ball of fire at the end of the street. Flames licked at what was left of his car.

 

  One Week Later

  “Heard you need a bodyguard, Callahan.”

  The sultry female voice jerked Franco’s attention from his computer. He swiveled his chair and glanced toward his office doorway. A thrill shot through him at the sight of the petite redhead, arms folded across her chest, leaning impudently against the doorjamb. He tamped down the excitement she always aroused in him and narrowed his eyes.

  “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 real glad to see you too, Callahan. And the name is Jo.”

  The tough little spitfire rarely wore anything other than camouflage fatigues, T-shirts, and combat boots. He couldn’t help noticing the way her khaki-colored T-shirt stretched over her firm breasts and the way her full, pink lips—kissable lips—parted. She wasn’t his type he reminded himself, not for the first time in their five-year association. His type was tall, blonde, leggy, and a tigress in bed—not a fireball more comfortable on the shooting range than between satin sheets. He shot her an insolent smile, retreating into the playboy persona he showed the world.

  Her green eyes, translucent and light as a spring leaf, studied him. “Logan and Doriana sent me to protect your sorry ass.”

  His eyes never leaving hers, he stood. “I told them I don’t need protection. I’m sorry you had to come all this way. Go back to Tucson.”

  Tension in every line of her toned body, she moved closer. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Callahan. Think I want to spend my time babysitting some spoiled playboy? As far as I’m concerned, if one of your bimbos has it in for you, that’s your problem.”

  “Then leave.”

  “No can do. Logan’s my boss. He sent me to keep someone from killing you and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  The fear that was his constant companion these days pressed against his chest. Masking his feeling of vulnerability, he flattened his palms on his desk. “Tell Logan and Doriana thanks, but the Philadelphia police are handling the case. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  She moved even closer and leaned over the desk until their faces were inches apart. The woman had guts. He had to hand that to her. He wondered if anything scared her. A familiar scent surrounded her, teasing his nostrils. Grapefruit? On her the fruity aroma smelled tantalizing and seductive. Jo Fortune, seductive? He moved back from temptation.

  She straightened and stepped away from his desk. “Sure, I’d rather be in sunny Arizona than rainy Philadelphia. But Doriana’s not too keen on her brother getting killed. So you’re stuck with me until the cops get whoever’s after you.”

  He studied her and something stirred in him, the same feeling he’d had minutes ago; the feeling he’d gotten the first time he’d met her at Logan and Doriana’s wedding five years before, and every time after that. As an honorary member of the Callahan-Tanner clan, Jo was present at family holidays and functions. For all her smart mouth and bluster, he recognized the hurt that shadowed her eyes and softened her generous mouth. A part of him wanted to find out who put that hurt there and to take it away if he could. Jo brought out a protectiveness in him that scared him nearly as much as the thought of someone killing him.

  Franco sank into his chair and gestured to the chair facing his desk. “Sit, Josephine, and we’ll talk.”

  She sat and crossed her booted feet at the ankles. “It’s Jo, Callahan.”

  He suppressed a smile. “And it’s Franco, Fortune.”

  A glimmer of amusement shone in her eyes. “All right. A truce. You call me Jo and I’ll call you Franco.”

  “Agreed, since you’ve come all this way.” He settled back in his chair. “Why did Logan send you without telling me?”

  She held out her palms. “Logan figured once I showed up, you wouldn’t send me away.”

  “He figured wrong. How did you get past my security?”

  “Your father contacted the head of building security. They were expecting me. I only had to show my ID.” Her lips quirked in a faint smile. “It helped that your assistant is at lunch too. We timed it just right.”

  “My father knows?” The old, familiar insecurity knotted his gut. “I run this company.”

  “He still owns it.”

  And he still owns you. The unspoken words were clear in her tone.

  With effort, he
dislodged the unsettling thought. Four years ago he’d been forced to turn his life around when his dad had a stroke. Then there was the situation with Mac, the betrayal that had Franco questioning all he stood for, all he’d worked for. A double whammy that had shifted his world on its axis. After a rough start, he’d done a good job with the company, bringing in more revenue every year, expanding into even more countries. Yet, the force that was Dan Callahan was imprinted on Callahan Construction.

  Franco positioned himself more comfortably and concentrated on his immediate problem—the slim redhead sitting before him. He gave her his smoothest smile, one that had won over beautiful women and business sharks alike. “I appreciate Logan sending you, but I told him I’ll be okay. I have faith in the police,” he lied expertly.

  Jo gripped the arms of her chair and leaned forward. “The police haven’t done beans so far. Someone breaks into your house two weeks ago and rips it apart. Then your car is blown up. And they don’t even have a suspect.”

  Franco loosened his tie, feeling suddenly warm. He’d tried to push the incidents out of his mind, but they were always there, threatening his peace, his control. His life.

  He scanned her again. She was pretty, with those eyes, those sharp cheekbones and those kissable lips. He cleared his throat. “No offense, Jo, but what can you do for me? You’re what? Five foot one, a hundred pounds? I’m five eleven and I work out. I’d beat you in any kind of a fight any day. How can you possibly act as my bodyguard?”

  Sitting straighter, she grinned. “You think you can beat me, Callahan? Care to find out?”

  He laughed. “Simmer down. I don’t fight women, no matter who they are.”

  She sobered. “Look, Callahan—uh, Franco, I’m good at what I do. No one is going to hurt you while I’m around. And my size makes it easy to fool people. I’ll protect you.”

  He loosened his tie some more. “And you expect to be with me 24/7? I don’t see that happening. What about when you’re not with me? Whoever is after me could strike then. It won’t work. Tell that to Logan.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll make it work. I’ll move in with you. That’s Logan’s plan.”

  “What? Us, living together? I don’t think so.” He moved out from behind the desk and began to pace. “And what will I tell people? I have a pint-sized bodyguard because I’m afraid? No, absolutely not.”

  She moved too, cutting off his route and facing him. “Logan and Doriana care about you and they want you safe. I’ll keep you safe.”

  The sparks flying from her eyes hit Franco like shards of glass. He couldn’t admit to anyone—least of all, her—that the thought of someone trying to kill him scared the crap out of him. After the two incidents, a thought had niggled at his brain. Was someone from his party-guy past out to get revenge, or worse? He’d done some things he was ashamed of. Were they coming back to bite him? He didn’t want to put Jo in danger, yet he had no choice. He was outflanked.

  “Earth to Franco.”

  Jo’s voice dumped him back to the present. He leveled his gaze at her. “I wouldn’t want anyone to know I’ve got a bodyguard. So what story do we tell to explain us living together?”

  She gave him a self-satisfied smirk. “So you’ve agreed to let me help you?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t agreed to anything. I’m curious to know what story you and Logan concocted.”

  She lifted one T-shirt clad shoulder. “Simple. We tell people I’m your girlfriend.”

 

  Shock registered on his face. If she weren’t so pissed off over this whole assignment, Jo would have enjoyed Franco’s reaction. She expected him to start sputtering any minute. She didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted her here. But Logan had sent her, and she owed Logan her life. She’d do anything for him and Doriana.

  “No way,” he said. “No one will believe you’re my girlfriend. You’re not my type.”

  Hurt came out of nowhere and kicked her in the stomach. Almost against her will, her gaze swept him. God, he was beautiful, with his GQ-model high cheekbones, those chiseled lips, and those wide shoulders under the beautifully cut suit, a suit that probably cost more than her whole wardrobe. Of course, no one would expect the rich, powerful, gorgeous Franco Callahan of having a girlfriend who looked like her. She swallowed, mustering her pride.

  She hated that she’d always been attracted to the spoiled playboy. Yet, looking at him now, she saw the subtle changes in him—the strands of gray in his short dark hair, the seriousness in the depth of his light blue Irish eyes, eyes that gave no hint of the Italian heritage that flowed through him also. Fine lines of tension bracketed his mouth. Had running an international company done that to him? Gone was the arrogant player she’d first met years ago, the one who swaggered through life, a blonde babe on his arm. He’d changed and she’d been too busy fighting her attraction to him to notice.

  He must have ticked off someone bad enough to want him dead. Years in the security business had her mind whirling with possible scenarios. Maybe one of his old girlfriends was out for some sort of revenge. Except the women she’d met didn’t seem to have the smarts to come up with a vendetta.

  “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.

  ***

  Chapter Two

  Franco 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. br />
  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?”