The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011

by Catherine Mann

  Matt swore and quickly shut the door behind them. “Bloody journalists,” he growled. “I don’t like them taking pictures of Megan.”

  Lana’s brow rose in surprise. She felt the same but, “Isn’t the point of our marriage to get her known as a Valente?”

  “Not with pictures. I was raised in front of the press, but it’s a different world now and I’ll be damned if I’ll let them use her. That’s not what our marriage is about.”

  His words warmed her and she quickly buried her face in her daughter’s dark curls. For the first time she didn’t feel as though Megan would be alone in the world if anything happened to her. Dan would do his best from France of course, but it wasn’t the same as being cared for by a father who loved her.

  She’d marry a thousand men like Matt to do this for her daughter, she admitted, then realized how ridiculous that thought was. There was no other man like Matt Valente.

  Alex and Nick Valente were men in their own right.

  And so was Matt.

  He was one of a kind.

  And he knew it.

  Lana couldn’t help but feel a little reserved once they arrived at his parents’ apartment. Matt stayed by her side for a while, then left her to walk around with Megan in his arms.

  As she watched him she wished she could believe that their daughter was some sort of trophy to him, but she knew that wasn’t true. He was a proud father, that’s all.

  Occasionally he’d look her way and he’d smile at her for the benefit of the others, but Lana was sure they weren’t fooling any of them. She only had to look at his two brothers to see the truth in their eyes. They knew Megan was the reason Matt had married her.

  As did their wives, Olivia and Sasha. Olivia was the daughter of a famous movie star, which had to be hard at times. And poor Sasha’s father had been charged with fraud and was due to be sentenced soon.

  Yet both women were just so nice and unaffected by the trappings of wealth. They even mentioned getting together for lunch, but Lana held them off.

  And she planned on holding them off for as long as she could. It was no use her getting too close to these women. She’d be gone before they knew it, she told herself, sipping at her champagne and watching Alex and Olivia’s eight-year-old son, Scott, and their newly adopted six-year-old daughter, Renee, playing together.

  Just then Matt moved into her line of vision to talk to Alex. Megan was still in his arms and her poor darling was cautiously looking up at her father as if she wasn’t sure whether to cry or not.

  And Matt wasn’t letting go.

  And didn’t she know how that felt? Matt was paying no notice to Megan’s nervousness, just as he paid no notice to hers.

  Suddenly Matt looked at Megan and kissed her cheek and without warning Megan gave her toothless little grin. Lana’s heart tripped over when she saw that.

  Megan and Matt would be okay together.

  “You’ve done the right thing for her,” Isabel said gently, coming up beside Lana.

  Lana started, then gave a small smile. “I know, Isabel.”

  “Matt will be good for her.”

  “Yes, he will.” She would never have married him if he wasn’t.

  “And you’ll be good for my son.”

  Lana wrinkled her nose. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “I am. He needs someone like you.”

  Lana shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. I’m nothing special.” Matt needed someone who liked to go out and party. And probably someone from a high-profile family would be even better.

  The older woman considered her. “Don’t put yourself down, Lana. You’re a lovely person, and any woman who puts her child first like you’re doing by marrying my son is someone we’re proud to have in our family.”

  Lana swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, touched by the words. “Most mothers would do what I’m doing.”

  “No, sweetie, they wouldn’t,” Isabel said, turning to gaze at her three sons.

  Lana remembered then that Isabel was actually Alex and Nick’s stepmother, not their real mother as she was Matt’s. From what she knew of the Valentes, Alex’s mother had died when he was little and Cesare had then married Nick’s mother, who’d walked out when Nick was a baby. Cesare had then found long-term happiness with his third wife, Isabel, who’d been a proper mother to the three boys.

  Lana inclined her head. “You’re right, Isabel. Not all mothers are the same.”

  A short time later, Cesare tapped his champagne glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention.

  “First of all, I’d like to congratulate my youngest son and his new wife on their marriage.” He held up his glass. “To Lana and Matt. May your marriage be strong and happy.”

  “To Lana and Matt,” the others toasted, and Lana felt her cheeks warm. Was she the only one to see that cynical look in Matt’s eyes?

  “And now,” Cesare said, “Izzie and I have a special gift for all our beautiful daughters-in-law. To each of you, we give the very first of our new Valente’s Woman Limited Edition perfume.”

  Isabel handed out the gorgeous bottles of scent and Lana was grateful Olivia and Sasha’s excitement made her own more sedate response fade into the background. She felt like such a fraud. She didn’t deserve to be a part of this. She only had to look at Matt to know he was thinking the same thing.

  Thankfully, the party finally ended two hours later. Megan was tired and had begun to cry and Matt declared they were leaving, for which Lana was relieved. It had been a long afternoon and Megan had been a little angel through it all, but now she needed her bed.

  And that bed should now be at Matt’s place. In the days leading up to the wedding she hadn’t thought to ask where that was, but he’d told her he’d have all Megan’s things and anything Lana wanted transferred to his apartment while they were busy with the ceremony.

  Twenty minutes later Matt turned the car into the gated driveway of a large house that had a picturesque garden and lawn. Then she saw the high fence had a board with a Sold sign across it.

  She twisted toward Matt in disbelief. “Tell me you didn’t buy this house for us?”

  His satisfied look completely disappeared. “Yes, I did.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Her eyes widened. “But we’re only going to be married for a year.”

  “So? It’ll be a good investment. Anyway, my apartment wasn’t suitable for a child.”

  “I can just imagine,” she muttered.

  His eyes turned cold. “There were only two bedrooms.”

  “I could have shared with Megan.”

  She certainly wouldn’t have shared with him.

  “Megan needs her own space.” He paused. “And you need your sleep if you insist on working.”

  Okay, so she couldn’t fault that.

  Her irritation subsided a little; then she thought of something else. “You could have just left us at my apartment, you know. And you could’ve stayed at yours.”

  “No.”

  Her lips pressed together, even though she hadn’t much hope he’d agree. “I’ve lived there for almost a year now. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s suitable for Megan.”

  That stung.

  “I see.” Obviously she could live in a dump for all he cared, but Megan needed to live somewhere befitting the Valente name.

  Then she felt bad.

  It sounded as though she was jealous of her daughter, and she wasn’t. She had the Valente name herself now anyway, even if she wasn’t going to use it, having decided to stick to Jensen. After hearing herself referred to as Mrs. Matthew Valente at the Registry Office today, she needed this to keep a sense of independence.

  No, it was Matt’s dominating way that really irked her. He thought he knew what was best for her and Megan. He should have asked her opinion.

  Clearly having had enough, Matt pushed open his car door. “Come on. Let’s go inside.” He got ou
t of the car and opened the back door, ducking back in to release Megan from her car seat. “Leave her things. I’ll get them later.”

  Lana alighted and then went to take Megan out of his arms. “Here. Give her to me.”

  “No, she’s heavy. I’ll carry her.” He walked away and up the front steps, leaving Lana to grit her teeth and follow them.

  Matt produced a key and opened the door wide and they stepped into an entry foyer. A glimpse at the formal living room on the right confirmed the place was stunning.

  “Did you even take the time to look around before you bought this place? You didn’t, did you?”

  His aristocratic brow rose. “Why? It’s not good enough?”

  She waved a dismissive hand, parroting his offhandedness. “Don’t be crazy. It’s lovely. I just wondered, that’s all.”

  “I always think before I act, Lana.”

  Not always, was her immediate thought as their eyes met and she saw that same thought in him. She flushed. The one time he hadn’t thought things through was the reason they were here now.

  “We have a housekeeper starting tomorrow,” he said, somewhat in a clipped tone. “She has her own apartment at the back of the house.”

  She nodded and glanced down the hallway as if she was looking around, but it was more about not looking at him.

  “I’ll give you a tour later. For now I’ll show you the bedrooms.” He started down the hallway and she tensed as once again she followed him until he turned left into a wing. He opened the first door. “This is your room. You’ve got your own en suite.”

  At least they didn’t have to share a bathroom. Nor that beautiful, king-size bed, which she pretended she didn’t even notice. “Very nice.”

  “There’s a connecting door to Megan’s room.” He walked to the next room. “This is hers.” He pointed to the door farther along. “My room’s next to this one.”

  Lana’s heart missed a beat as the impact of their circumstances started to roll over her. She was going to be sharing a house with the man who had the monopoly on high-powered virility.

  God help her.

  All of a sudden Megan saw her crib and squirmed to get to it. “She wants to go to bed.”

  Matt nodded. “Everything’s here, so I’ll leave you to it while I go get the rest of her things from the car.”

  “Okay. Just put her down on the carpet while I get organized.”

  Once he’d left, Lana stood looking around. Megan’s furniture appeared miniscule in this room that was painted in pale yellow with nursery rhyme characters stenciled around the walls. Her daughter was going to love looking at them from her crib.

  But for now …

  “Right, madam. Let me get out of this jacket first,” Lana said, slipping off her cream jacket and placing it on a chair, leaving her cream camisole top above her short skirt. “That’s better.”

  She gathered a few items. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Lifting Megan up, she laid her on the change table while she gave her a top-and-tail with a washcloth and then put on a clean diaper.

  She chatted as she went. “You were such a good little girl today. Mummy is very proud of you. I think you …”

  Five minutes later Matt stood in the doorway, letting Lana’s voice flow over him as he watched her preparing Megan for bed. It was an odd feeling watching these two new women in his life.

  His daughter he loved already.

  And the other he….wanted.

  His gaze traveled over Lana’s profile. Her short blond hair was always stylish, but she’d done something special to it today and it looked fantastic.

  Her cream suit fit her perfectly, but now she’d taken off her jacket and was standing there in a lacy top with spaghetti straps curved over her shoulders, leaving her smooth skin free.

  And that short skirt and silk stockings showcased her long legs, one of which she’d kicked out behind her as she leaned over their daughter on the change table.

  His groan kicked into gear in reply. This woman had to be the sexiest mother he’d ever seen.

  And dammit, he still desired her.

  As if sensing his presence, she looked over at him and he quickly blanked out his expression. It was going to be tough enough being in the same house, without her knowing that he wanted to strip those clothes from her body.

  “You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” he said, determined not to let her know his thoughts.

  Her elegant eyebrows rose a fraction. “You’ll change her diaper?”

  “I think I should know how to do these things. I want to be a hands-on father.”

  She relaxed with a wry smile. “Oh, changing diapers will certainly give you that experience,” she said, picking Megan up in her arms and turning toward the crib, but not before Lana’s smile swept into him.

  “Wait,” he managed to say as he approached them. “I want to give her a good-night kiss.” He leaned forward to kiss his daughter’s chubby cheek. “Sweet dreams, Megan Valente.” She smelled of baby powder.

  But as he eased back he caught a tantalizing hint of “Valente’s Woman,” the special perfume that was taking the world by storm. All the Valente women wore it—and now Lana was truly entitled to wear it, too.

  It suited her.

  Only for a year, he reminded himself, growing angry with disappointment at the woman she was. Damn her for stealing that money. He didn’t want a thief for a wife, or for the mother of his child.

  A year, that’s all.

  And then she could damn well wear whatever perfume she pleased.

  “There’s some food and coffee in the kitchen,” he snapped, as he walked to the door.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

  He stopped to look at her. “Neither of us had much to eat today.”

  “You’ll join me?” she said with clear surprise.

  “Is that a problem?”

  She sent him a cautious glance. “No, I guess not.”

  “The kitchen’s down the hallway on the right,” he said, leaving them alone.

  He hated that her attraction got to him. She was fiery and icy at the same time, and watching her just now only served to remind him what he could have if he chose to bed her.

  He cursed under his breath. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. And definitely not from their first day together.

  Five minutes later she entered the kitchen. She’d slipped her jacket back on, but if she thought it would provide some sort of protective shield she was very much mistaken. The fine material might have veiled the bare shoulders and firm breasts beneath her camisole top, but the clingy fabric couldn’t fully conceal the outline of that willowy figure beneath her short skirt.

  She caught him looking at her and her blue eyes flared before darting away to nervously glance around the room.

  Look at me again, he wanted to say, then immediately severed the thought.

  Don’t look.

  Don’t touch.

  “This is a magnificent kitchen, Matt,” she began to chatter, still looking everywhere but at him. “Your housekeeper is sure to love it.”

  “She’s your housekeeper, too,” he pointed out.

  Her gaze flew to him. “But I’ve never had a housekeeper before.”

  “You’re a Valente now. You’ll have to get used to it.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes; then her chin angled. “Actually, I’m keeping my own name. Megan’s the Valente now, not me.”

  The comment shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Most women he knew would jump at any chance to be Mrs. Valente.

  He frowned. Or was her show of independence merely for his benefit? She might not have wanted this marriage, but she certainly knew how to take advantage of an opportunity.

  “So you’re a liberated woman?” he drawled, not bothering to make an issue of it. He had her measure.

  “I don’t see any point in taking on a name I have no intention of keeping.”

  He gave a careless shrug. “Fair enou
gh.”

  She stared for a moment. “You’re not going to argue about it?”

  “No. I agree. It makes sense.”

  “Oh.” She seemed to be at a loss. “Good.” Then she swung away and viewed the selection of food on the marble countertop. “This all looks very appetizing.”

  The muscles at the back of his neck were taut. The only thing that looked appetizing was her. “My mother thought we might be hungry.”

  “That’s sweet of her.”

  Funny, his mother had called Lana sweet. It worried him. He didn’t want his family drawn in or upset by her. His parents would be shocked if they knew what she was really like. It would be a hard pill to swallow knowing that the mother of their grandchild was so untrustworthy.

  He gestured for her to sit on one of the tall stools. “Help yourself to the food,” he said tightly, moving around the other side of the countertop, not wanting to be too close to her right now.

  She slid onto the stool and picked up one of the delicious-looking sandwiches, appearing to be at ease, but he knew she was anything but.

  He took one of the sandwiches for himself. “Speaking of my mother, you were having a good chat with her this evening,” he said casually, remembering how he’d watched them and felt the urgent need to part the two women.

  A wary look crossed her face, then vanished. “Were we?”

  “You both looked deep in conversation.”

  “Then we probably were,” she said, and took a nibble of her sandwich.

  His brows drew together. It appeared as though she was hiding behind that sandwich, not eating it. That made him suspicious.

  “I hope you’re not planning on worming your way into her good books.”

  Her eyes widened and the sandwich lowered from her mouth. “Why would I do that?”

  “My mother is predisposed to liking you. That makes her vulnerable to being hurt.”

  She frowned. “I don’t plan on hurting her. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Don’t you?”

  She slowly put the sandwich down on the plate and shot him a glare. “You know, you really are a bastard.”

  All at once everything within him rose like bile. “No, my daughter was the bastard.”