Secrets of the Playboy's Bride

by Leanne Banks

  “You feel so good,” she said, sliding her hands over his chest and up to his shoulders. She sank against him and sighed against his mouth.

  She felt him slide his fingers through her hair and tilt her head to give him better access. He kissed her deeply as if he were making his mark on her, possessing her. “I don’t want you going to dangerous places.”

  “I’ve lived in Philly for a while. I’m not a complete novice,” she said as he slid his mouth over her throat.

  “But you haven’t been married to Leo Grant. That changes things,” he said.

  She pulled back slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s possible that someone would want to take advantage of you because you’re my wife,” he said bluntly. “I won’t let that happen. I refuse to be taken advantage of.”

  She felt a chill run through her at his cold-as-ice tone. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “I’m saying I’ve never had a wife before. Never had anyone at risk. I’ve had my security detail on call for you, but in the future, I’ll make sure they’re always close by.”

  She frowned. “Close by?”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t notice them. They’ll just be available anytime you need them.”

  Calista didn’t like the idea of being watched every minute. “I can’t believe I would draw that much attention. I don’t need that kind of supervision.”

  “It’s not supervision,” he said. “It’s security. You’re my wife. It’s my job to take care of you.”

  She stared into his eyes, feeling a passion as deep as her bones. It struck her in her heart. “I’m not used to someone watching over me.”

  “Get used to it,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers. “You’re mine now.”

  He made love to her, rendering her speechless and nearly mindless. In the back of her mind, though, she remembered that she needed to get answers from him. After the glow of climax, she curled against him, still breathless. “I don’t know your birthday,” she whispered.

  He swore. “Why do you need to know?”

  “So I can bake you a birthday cake,” she said.

  He chuckled. “November 3,” he said.

  “What year?” she asked.

  “I’m thirty-two. Why are you asking me this now?” he asked, pulling her naked body against his hard naked one.

  “Because I want to know more,” she said. “How old were you when you were in the accident?”

  He stilled. “Why do you ask?”

  Her heart hammered at his still, emotionless tone. “Because that was a big event in your life. As your wife, it’s important for me to know the good and the bad things in your past.”

  He took a deep breath. “I was eight years old. I don’t remember anything before or during the accident,” he said, breathing heavily in the darkness of the room. “I hate it that I can’t remember.”

  Her heart twisted at his words. “Maybe it’s best that you don’t,” she said. “Maybe it’s too painful.”

  “I would rather have a painful memory than no memory,” he said and rolled onto his side, facing away from her.

  Deep pain emanated from him. She felt it in her heart, in her pores, and her stomach twisted at the power of it. Confusion twisted through her. How could she feel such empathy for a man who’d had a part in her family’s destruction? How could she feel such a connection to him?

  She fought it for several moments, but she couldn’t stop her arm from folding over his chest and sliding closer against him, her breasts pressed against his back. She felt his heavy sigh. Did she have that much of an effect on him? Did she bring him a little peace? Calista marveled at the thought, at the possibility of such power. It couldn’t be true, she thought. It couldn’t.

  The following morning, George met him outside the condo building. “Good morning. How is Mrs. Grant?” George asked.

  “Fine, this morning,” he said and climbed into the back seat of his Town Car.

  “I can’t imagine what clients would want to meet her at the place she went last night,” George said, his disapproval evident as he drove down the one-way street.

  “I have no reason to believe she wasn’t meeting clients. She said they’d heard The Mark was an authentic Philly landmark,” Leo said.

  “For gangs,” George said.

  “She didn’t seem to enjoy her time at The Mark,” Leo said.

  George paused a long moment. “True,” he finally conceded. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “About what?” Leo asked.

  “About her security,” George said.

  “I’m going to assign a guard to her, but I’m going to tell him to stay on the down low,” he said. “I don’t want her to feel infringed upon because of her marriage to me,” he said.

  George gave a rough chuckle. “She’ll have to be the dumbest girl in the world not to know that her life would turn upside down because she’d married you.”

  “She may know that, but I also think she’s fighting it,” he said.

  Silence followed. “Could be,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “This is a marriage,” Leo said. “It takes time to trust. She will trust me,” he said. “And soon.”

  “But will you trust her?” George asked. “Can you trust her?”

  “You know I don’t trust anyone completely,” Leo said. “I’ve given her your cell number if she ever needs it.”

  “Okay,” George said. “But what if I find out she’s doing something you wouldn’t like?” he asked.

  “Like what?” Leo asked.

  “I don’t know. Seeing an old boyfriend? Or a new one?”

  “She won’t,” he said, because although he might not have Calista’s trust and complete adoration, he knew he had her passion.

  Calista’s cell phone began ringing on Monday morning.

  “Congratulations,” said a distantly familiar voice.

  Calista didn’t recognize the number. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s Jennifer,” she said. “Your roommate from college. I know we haven’t kept in touch as well as we should, but I thought you would call me if you got married.”

  Calista frowned in confusion. “How did you know I got married?”

  “It’s in the paper today—a little sidebar in the society section about how Philadelphia’s most eligible bachelor has been taken off the market. Aren’t you the lucky one? How did you pull this off?” Jennifer asked.

  “We met at a charity event,” she said, fumbling as she tried to remember how she’d described her relationship to her cousin and sisters. “It was just one of those things where we instantly clicked. I wonder why it just made the paper. We’ve been married for weeks.”

  “Did you make an announcement?”

  “No,” she said and realized that probably wasn’t very bridelike. For that matter, she hadn’t even told her coworkers. “I’ve been so busy…” She hesitated. “With Leo,” she said with emphasis.

  “Well, we must get together for lunch. I want to hear all about this. You were so studious in college. Never took time for dating when you and I roomed together. And now you’re married to Leo Grant. When can we get together?” Jennifer demanded.

  “I don’t know,” Calista said, reluctant to face Jen’s questions. “I’ll have to look at my calendar. My work schedule—”

  “Work,” Jen echoed. “You’re not still working, are you? If I were in your shoes, I would have dumped my job before the ink dried on my marriage license.”

  A beep interrupted her, signaling another incoming call. “Oops, I’m sorry. I have another call. I need to go.”

  “Call me back,” Jen said.

  “Hello?” Calista said, this time recognizing the caller as a member from her elite women’s society club.

  “You little sneak,” Rachel said. “Why didn’t you bring your husband to our event last week?”

  Calista swallowed a sigh. “We’ve both been terribly busy,”
she said.

  “But the two of you went to other events together,” Rachel complained.

  “Those were required of him,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t talk now, Rachel. I really need to get back to work.”

  “Work?” Rachel said. “Why are you working?” She laughed. “Oh, Calista, we should talk. Better yet, why don’t you and Leo come over for dinner? Would Friday work?”

  Calista blinked. “I need to ask Leo first. He’s in so much demand with his company. I try to encourage him to take breaks,” she invented. “Thanks for calling though. I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Bye now,” she said and hung up and turned off her phone. Peace, she thought, breathing a sigh of relief. At the touch of a button.

  She heard a knock on her door. Wary because of her previous calls, she rose to answer it. Three of her female coworkers stood there with their faces wreathed in smiles. “Congratulations! We’re so excited for you,” Susan said.

  “I’m sure you’ve already given notice,” Anna said. “Do you know who is going to get your office?”

  Calista dropped her jaw. “No, I—”

  Hal, her boss, a middle-aged man, approached from behind the three women. He shook his finger at her playfully. “No wonder you wanted all that extra time off. You told me you got married, but you didn’t tell me your husband’s name.”

  Calista smiled weakly. “We wanted to keep things quiet.”

  “Why?” Susan asked. “This is the most exciting news we’ve had around here in a long time.”

  Her boss’s assistant waved as she approached the group. “There’s a journalist from Philadelphia Magazine on the phone. She wants to do a feature of you and your new husband. Wouldn’t it be great if they put you on the cover?”

  Not really, Calista thought. “Would you mind getting her e-mail and asking if I can get back to her? I would obviously have to discuss this with my husband.” Even after being married for a month, those words sounded foreign coming out of her mouth.

  “When do we get to meet him?” Susan asked. “Do you ever have lunch with him?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Anna said. “You know she’s already resigned. Haven’t you?”

  “No,” Calista said. “I haven’t. I don’t plan to quit.”

  “Why?” Anna asked.

  That same question was thrown at her over and over. Between those questions and the incessant phone calls, Calista was exhausted by the end of the day and she hadn’t gotten any work accomplished.

  Hal glanced into her office. “Busy day?”

  She smiled but knew it was more of a grimace. “Times two,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m taking work home, so I won’t fall behind.”

  “I’ve been wondering if it might be best if you take a leave of absence,” he ventured.

  “Why?” she asked, her stomach clenching in fear. “I know there was a lot of disruption today, but I’m sure it will blow over quickly.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. “I think you’re underestimating the level of interest people have in your marriage. My assistant was fielding calls for you half the afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think people would care that much. I’m sure it will get better,” she said. “Please don’t let me go.”

  “I’m not firing you,” Hal said. “I just think it would be in the company’s best interest and yours for you to take some time to get your ducks in a row about all this. And who knows? After you’re off for a little while, you may decide you like it.”

  Panic rose inside her. “I really want to keep this job.”

  “I hear you. That’s what you want now, but it could change. At least, take tomorrow and think about a short leave.” His lips twitched. “You’re a newlywed. Enjoy the moment.”

  Calista fought the terrible urge to cry. Before now, she’d been able to keep her marriage under the radar. Now that the news had exploded, it seemed like that was all anyone wanted to talk about with her. It was hard enough to fake her commitment to Leo and herself. With everyone gushing congratulations, best wishes and curiosity, all she wanted to do was scream that the marriage was temporary, so it wasn’t necessary to get all worked up over it.

  Leo walked through the door of his penthouse after going a round with George in the boxing ring down the block. The former pro hadn’t cut him any slack either. He would be wearing a nice bruise on his jaw tomorrow.

  His housekeeper met him at the door. “Good evening, Mr. Grant. Welcome home. What can I get for you?”

  “Bag of frozen peas, please,” he said.

  He watched her eyes glint with a combination of humor and sympathy. “George was feeling his oats?”

  He nodded. “He won’t be feeling them tomorrow, though,” he said. “I got one of his ribs pretty good after he blasted my jaw. Is Calista around?”

  “Yes, sir. She went to the fitness room a little over an hour ago,” she said.

  “I’ll look in on her,” he said, barely waiting a moment before Brenda returned with the bag of peas. Immediately applying it to his jaw, he walked to the fitness room and saw Calista pacing from one end of the room to the other with a frown on her face.

  “Bad day?” he asked.

  Her head shot up and she met his gaze, not smiling. “It could have been better. It started out with my car getting towed from the parking lot of The Mark even though they wouldn’t let me get to it last night.”

  “Did you call George?”

  “No. I picked it up myself after work, which brings me to another subject,” she said.

  Irritation trickled through him. “I told you to call George if you needed help.”

  “Trust me. Picking up my car was cake compared to the rest of my day. Did you happen to see the newspaper this morning?”

  Realization shot through him. “Oh, the little piece in the Inquirer. My assistant told me about it. I don’t usually read the social column.”

  “How many calls did you get about it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. My assistant screens my calls, and he knows I like my privacy.”

  “I could have used that kind of assistant today,” she muttered.

  “Do you want one?” he asked.

  “No,” she wailed. “I just don’t want all these people calling me. My boss even suggested I take a leave of absence.”

  “I don’t suppose this is a good time to say Hoo-rah,” he said.

  She shot him a dark look. “It isn’t. For the most part, our relationship has been between you and me. We went out in public those few times last week, but I had no idea people would be so interested.”

  He shrugged. “People are interested in anything that involves money.”

  “I’d like to say that I disagree, but I can’t,” she said.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It was really disruptive at work today.”

  “So leave,” he said. “Let me take care of your bills. They can’t be that bad.”

  He watched her stiffen in response.

  “I’m accustomed to taking care of myself,” she said.

  “You can take care of yourself, but it’s not necessary to take care of your bills. I have more than enough to do that. I wish you wouldn’t slam your head into the wall about it,” he said.

  “Easy for you to say. I guess this means I can make the India trip with no problem,” she said.

  “I’ve put that off. The son of the man I’m dealing with is getting married. His father is distracted,” Leo said.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Yeah, oh,” he said, extending his hand. “What’s it going to take for you to relax?”

  She lifted her chin, and he was drawn to the pride she took in herself and her choices. “What’s it going to take for you to relax?”

  He gave a low, dirty chuckle. “Never gonna happen,” he said and pulled her against him. “But I’ll cover you. Relax.”

  For a second, she looked as if she believed him, but then h
er eyes flickered. “You need to remember that I try not to count on anyone.”

  “I’m different,” he said and pressed his mouth against hers.

  “I’m starting to think you are,” she whispered.

  Her body felt delicious against his. She would feel even more delicious when he was sinking inside her. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “I don’t expect you to,” she protested.

  “Let me,” he said, pulling her off her feet and into his arms. “Let me.” He carried her into the master bath and made love to her.

  Eight

  Calista awakened each day the next week feeling a surge of panic. She should be working. She shouldn’t relax. She needed to be earning money because, after all, her marriage to Leo could end before the six-month mark if he found out the truth about her. If that happened, she would be out of a job and her sisters would be without the funds for their education.

  Calista cleaned their suite, then searched for things to do. Leo’s housekeeper, Brenda, repeatedly approached her. “What can I do for you?” she asked. “How can I help you? You seem troubled.”

  “I’m unaccustomed to not working,” Calista told her. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

  Brenda laughed in sympathy. “You’re the only woman I know who has trouble relaxing.”

  “I feel like I should be doing something,” Calista said.

  “You are,” Brenda said. “You’re Mr. Grant’s wife.”

  Calista tamped down another surge of panic. “I guess,” she whispered.

  “You need to let me do my job so you can do yours,” Brenda said.

  When Leo arrived home that evening, Calista laced and unlaced her fingers. “How was your day?” she asked, but her mind refused to let her listen to his answer.

  Leo snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Calista. Earth to Calista.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “My lack of a job is driving me insane.”

  His lips twitched. “Then spend more time volunteering.”

  She took a sip of wine and thought for a long moment. “Hmm.”

  He lifted his eyebrows in enquiry.

  “The dog shelter—” She broke off. “That’s it. I’ll spend more time at the dog shelter. Thank you for the suggestion.”