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If that’s what happened to his eyes when he was pleased, she really wanted to see them stormy with desire.
She shook her head. They were talking about hobbies.
Leo took her hand, casually, as if he’d done it a thousand times. “I don’t want you to be disappointed by our marriage. In the past, it’s been a struggle to balance work and a relationship because the expectations weren’t clear from the beginning. Women in my circles tend to demand attention I can’t give them and I’m grateful we won’t have that issue.”
The feel of her hand in his sparked all the way up her arm, unsettling her. It was the only plausible excuse for why she blurted out, “You couldn’t find one woman besides me who was willing to forgive your absence in exchange for a life of luxury?”
Her mother would have a coronary if she could hear Dannie being so outspoken. But he’d said in the car they could discuss anything. She hoped he meant it.
“Sure. But I wanted the right woman.”
All at once, the reason he’d gone to a matchmaker seemed painfully obvious. He’d tried to buy his way out of putting any effort into a relationship and his previous girlfriends had told him to take a hike. So to avoid a repetition, he bought a wife.
Her.
No wonder he’d been so adamant about honoring commitments. He didn’t want her to bail when she figured out she’d be all alone in this big house from now on.
Gothic indeed.
“I see.”
“Daniella.” His gaze bored into hers, pleading with her to believe...something. But what? “Neither of us have any illusions about this marriage, and that’s why it will work. I understand the drive for security. I’m happy to provide it for you because it’s a drive we share.”
She nodded and excused herself to unpack—and get some breathing room. Security was important and she’d married a good, solid man who’d never leave her like her father had. She just hadn’t expected gratefulness for that security to blossom into unexpected warmth toward the husband who’d provided it. And who promised to never be around.
As she climbed the stairs to her room, she realized what his unspoken plea had been meant to communicate.
He needed her as much as she needed him.
Three
The scraps of silk had definitely not been in Dannie’s suitcase when she packed it.
She fingered the baby-doll lingerie set and noticed the note: “For a red-hot wedding night. —Elise.”
Dannie held up the top. Such as it was. Black lace cups overlaid red silk triangles, which tied around the neck halter-style. Red silk draped from the bust, allowing a flirty peek at the tiny G-string panties beneath. Or it would if she was insane enough to actually wear something so blatantly sexy for her husband.
This lingerie was definitely the ticket to a red-hot wedding night. For some other woman, not Daniella Reynolds. Dannie had married a workaholic. With her eyes wide-open.
She tucked the sexy lingerie into the very back of the drawer she’d designated for sleepwear. Ha. There’d be no sleeping going on if she wore that outfit. She sighed. Well, it would be the case if her husband pried his eyes off his bottom line. And was attracted to her. And they shared a bedroom.
And what exactly had she expected? That Leo would take one look at his new wife and fall madly in love? She needed to get over herself and stop acting as though Leo had taken away something that she’d never planned on having in the first place.
Elise, the eternal optimist despite being perfectly aware Dannie and Leo had only met that same day, couldn’t have known how things would shake out. It was still depressing to be so soundly rejected. How would there be a possibility of children if they didn’t share a bedroom?
Dannie slammed the drawer a little harder than an adult probably should have and stomped to the bed to finish unpacking her meager wardrobe.
If she was going to be alone, this was certainly the place to do it. Her bedroom rivaled the finest luxury suite she’d ever seen featured in a movie. She didn’t have to leave. Ever. There was a minibar with a small refrigerator, fully stocked. An electronic tablet lay on the bedside table and she suspected Leo had already downloaded hundreds of books since her profile had said she liked to read.
The entertainment center came equipped with a fifty-inch flat-screen TV, cable, a DVD player, a sound system worthy of a nightclub and a fancy touch-screen remote. The owners’ manuals lay on the raw silk comforter. Of course. Leo never missed a trick.
She wondered where he kept the owner’s manual for Leo Reynolds. That was something she’d gladly read from cover to cover. A forty-seven-point profile only went so far into understanding the man.
There had to be more to Leo than met the eye, because no one voluntarily cut themselves off from people without a reason.
By the time she folded the last pair of socks, the hour had grown late. Leo’s parents were due in thirty minutes. She called her mother to see how she was getting along with the nurse and smiled at the effusive recounting of how her mother’s new caregiver played a serious game of gin rummy. Her mother sounded happy.
Relieved, Dannie went into the bathroom, where she had left half a cosmetic counter’s inventory strewn across the marble vanity. She took a few minutes to organize it in the drawers, which had built-in compartments of different sizes. The bathroom alone was bigger than her entire apartment.
Dannie agonized over what to wear and finally selected a simple pale lavender skirt and dove-gray button-up shirt. Her small wardrobe of coordinated pieces had been another gift from Elise. She was between sizes so everything had to be altered, adding yet more cost to the already expensive clothes. Shoes, however, posed no problems whatsoever. She stepped into a pair of calfskin sling backs that fit as if they’d been custom-made for her foot, then redid her chignon and makeup.
Who was that woman in the mirror?
“Daniella Reynolds,” she whispered to her reflection, then said it louder to get used to the sound of it. Only telemarketers and her grandmother called her Daniella. She liked the way Leo said it, though.
Since it was far past time to assume her duties as hostess to Leo’s parents, she navigated downstairs with only one wrong turn.
Leo was not in the lavishly appointed living room. Or the kitchen, or any of the other maze of rooms on the first floor. Finally she spied his dark head bent over the desk in his study, where he was clearly engrossed in the dollar signs marching across his laptop screen.
Leo was working. Gee. What a shock. Why hadn’t she thought to check his study first? Wishful thinking?
For a moment, she watched him, curious to see her husband unguarded. Towering bookshelves lined the room and should have dwarfed the man in it. They didn’t. Leo’s persona dominated the room. He’d shed his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves to midforearm. With his hair slightly rumpled, he was kind of adorable.
He glanced up with a distracted, lopsided half smile and her stomach flipped with a long, feminine pull. Okay, he was more than adorable. He was quite delicious and thoroughly untouchable, a combination she suddenly found irresistible. Her inner Scarlett conjured up a naughty mental scenario involving that red-hot lingerie and Leo’s desk. Hey, here’s a bottom line you can check out.
“Busy?” she croaked and cleared her throat. Duh. Of course he was.
“I’m, uh, just finishing up.” He shot a furtive glance at his laptop as if the screen contained something shamefully un-work-related.
“What are you doing? Watching YouTube videos?” Shut up, Scarlett. It was none of her business whether he was monitoring stock prices or carousing in a role-playing-game forum. “I mean...”
Well, there was really no recovery for that slip.
“No.” He shut the lid and she thought that would be the end of it. But then his mouth twitched. “I mentor college students online. I was walking through a business plan with one. Via chat.”
“That’s wonderful.” What in the world was shameful about that? “They must really pay close attention when they see your name pop up. That’s like winning the mentor lottery.”
Her new husband was so generous and kind. Of course he was. Elise wouldn’t have matched her with this man otherwise.
“I mentor anonymously.”
“Oh. Why?”
“The business world is—” Flustered, he threaded fingers through his already slightly rumpled hair and she itched to smooth it back for him. “Let’s just say my competitors won’t hesitate to pounce on weakness. I don’t present them with any.”
Mentoring the next generation of businessmen could be perceived as a weakness? “Richard Branson mentors young kids. I don’t see why he can do it, but you can’t.”
“He’s considered successful.” The unspoken I’m not hung in the air, but Leo stood and rolled his sleeves down, then rounded the desk, clearly signaling the end of the conversation. “Shall we?”
Her mouth fell open and she clamped it closed, swallowing the dozens of questions that sprang to her lips. His expression had closed off and even she could read the tread-with-caution sign. “Of course.”
The doorbell rang and she trailed Leo to the foyer to meet Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. Leo introduced his parents and Dannie shook hands with smiling, silver-haired Mr. Reynolds.
The spritely woman with Leo’s dark hair bounded into the house and swept Dannie up in a fierce hug. “I’m so happy to meet you!”
“I’m happy to meet you, too, Mrs. Reynolds.” Dannie breathed in her new mother-in-law’s perfume, which reminded her of vanilla cookies.
“Oh, please. I’m Susan.”
“I’m sorry, but I was expecting someone...” Cold. Unforgiving. Judgmental. “...older.”
Susan laughed. “Aren’t you sweet? Come with me to the kitchen and let Leo talk to his father while we fetch drinks.”
After a glance at Leo to gauge the appropriateness, Dannie followed Susan into the kitchen and proceeded to watch while Leo’s mother bustled around gathering glasses and chattering as if they were old friends. Obviously Susan felt comfortable in her son’s house. Unlike her son’s wife. Dannie wouldn’t have known which cabinet contained glasses.
“I apologize for missing the ceremony, Daniella.” Susan handed her a glass of tea and touched her shoulder. “It was a stupid, useless protest. But I’m mad at Leo, not you.”
“Oh.” She had to find a new response. That one was wearing thin. But it had been so appropriate. All day.
“He’s just so...Leo. You know?” Susan sighed dramatically and Dannie nodded, though she didn’t know. But she’d like to. “Too focused. Too intense. Too everything but what matters.”
No way was she letting that pass. “What matters?”
“Life. Love. Grandchildren.” With narrow eyes, Susan peered at Dannie. “Did he tell you that he draws?”
The tea she’d just sipped almost went down the wrong pipe. “Draws what?”
Susan snorted. “That’s what I thought. Leo would rather die than let anyone know he does something frivolous. He can draw anything. Animals. Landscapes. Bridges and buildings. He’s very talented. Like his namesake.”
“Leo was named after someone who draws?” She envisioned a stooped grandfather doodling cartoon characters on the back of a grocery list.
“Leonardo da Vinci.”
Dannie nearly dropped her tea. Leo’s full name was Leonardo? Not Leonard? She’d noticed the little extra squiggle at the end of his name on the marriage license but had been so fixated on signing her own name she hadn’t thought anything of it.
It shouldn’t matter. But it did.
She’d married a man with a romantic name who created art from nothing more than pen and paper. She wanted to see something he’d drawn. Better yet, she wanted him to voluntarily show it to her. To share a deep-seated piece of himself. To connect with his wife.
Leo’s mother had torn open a tiny corner of her son’s personality and it whipped up a fervor to tear away more. They’d been matched and Dannie hungered to learn what they might share beyond a love of books, family and commitment.
“Daniella.” Susan crooked her finger and Dannie leaned in. “I get that your marriage to my son is some kind of arrangement and presumably, that’s all right with you. I won’t pry. But Leo needs someone to love him, someone he can love in return, and neither will come easy. If it’s not going to be you, please step aside.”
Her pulse hammered in her throat. This marriage was nothing more than a means to an end. An arrangement between two people based on compatibility, not love—exactly what she’d signed up for. But nothing close to what she wanted, what she dreamed could be possible.
Leo had asked for a wife to run his household, organize his parties and charm his business associates. Most important, his wife should give him what he needed, which wasn’t necessarily the same as what he professed to need.
The woman behind the man had to be smart about how best to do her job.
Her inner Scarlett snickered and said new plan.
“What if it is going to be me?”
Leo had such a generous heart, but he cut himself off from people. He needed Dannie’s help to understand why. If she could figure him out, it could lead to so much more than an arrangement. It could lead to the enduring love story she’d dreamed of.
Susan’s smile could have powered every light in Paris. “Then I say welcome to the family.”
* * *
Leo shut the door behind his parents and paused a moment before turning. For fortification. It did nothing to ease the screaming awareness of his vibrant wife. Sure enough, when he spun, there she was. Watching him with those keen eyes, chest rising and falling slightly, straining against her soft gray shirt.
He was noticing the way she breathed.
Clearly, he needed to go bury himself in a spreadsheet for a couple of hours.
His parents had liked Daniella, fortunately, because their lively discussion covered the fact that Leo hadn’t contributed much. He’d been too busy pretending not to be preoccupied by his wife. But she’d been so amazing. A good conversationalist. A good hostess. Warm, friendly. Sexy.
It was just the two of them now. Talking was unavoidable.
“Thank you for entertaining my parents.”
She shot him a perplexed look. “You’re welcome. That’s what I’m here for. Right?”
Since she was gazing at him expectantly, he answered her, though the question should have been rhetorical. “Yes, and I appreciate it.”
“I enjoyed meeting your parents. Your mother is very interesting.”
That sounded like a lead-up if he’d ever heard one. “What did she say to you in the kitchen?”
“Nothing of consequence.” The smile on his wife’s face was gracious and innocent. Too much so.
“Don’t listen to anything my mother says, Daniella. She suffers from a terrible affliction with no cure—overt romanticism.”
“Dannie.”
“What?”
She’d inched forward until they were breathing the same air. And her chest nearly touched his with each small inhalation. “Daniella is too formal and stuck-up, don’t you think? Call me Dannie.”
He shook his head. The more formality the better for his peace of mind. “There’s nothing wrong with the name Daniella. It’s unusual. Beautiful. It suits you.”
Her eyes lit up and suddenly, she was the only one breathing because all the organs in his chest stopped functioning. Nothing to the south suffered from the same problem. Everything there hummed on high alert.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
Had he said that? His brain was not refreshing fast enough. “Your name. I said your name is beautiful.” Her expression fell and he cursed. If only he could converse with his wife exclusively by email, then maybe he could avoid hurting her feelings. “Of course you are, too. Very lovely.”
Nice save, he thought sarcastically. Lovely. That described a winter snowscape. From the perspective of an eighty-year-old woman. This was the point where he usually escaped to go do something where he possessed proficiency—work.
