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Matched to a Billionaire(10)

By:Kat Cantrell


"How was your day?" she asked politely while taking in the stress lines   and shadows around his eyes that said he'd slept poorly, as well.                       
       
           



       

Something unfolded in her chest, urging her to smooth back the dark hair   from his forehead and lightly massage his temples. Or whatever would   soothe him. She wanted to know what to do for him, what he'd appreciate.

He set a brown leather messenger bag on the island in the kitchen. "Fine. And yours?"

"Wonderful." Except for the part where he hadn't kissed her goodbye. Or   hello. Shut up, Scarlett. "The alumni gala is at the Renaissance Hotel.   My driver will take us as soon as we're ready."

He hadn't said a word about her dress. Perhaps she'd take that as a sign   he wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with her and not dwell on whether it   got a response or not. Compliments weren't the reason she'd married  Leo.

"That's fine. Let me change and we'll go." Leo set off for the stairs,   fingers already working on his tie, which she'd have gladly taken off   for him, if he'd let her. "They're giving an award to a friend of mine,   and we should take him to dinner afterward."

Reservations. Where? For how many? But Leo was gone before she could ask.

Totally winging it, she called the most expensive restaurant she'd heard   of and booked a table for four in Leo's name. If nothing else, the   restaurant might be willing to add a few more to the party for a   distinguished guest like Leo Reynolds.

Leo returned to the kitchen a short time later and she forgot all about a   little thing like reservations. In black tie, Leo simply stole her   breath.

"Ready?" he asked with raised eyebrows, likely because her fish-mouth impersonation amused him.

He was so delicious with his dark hair and dark suit, all crisp and   masculine with a slight sensuous edge that set off something sharp and   hot inside her. Last night, she'd felt just enough of the body he   carried under that suit and the memory reintroduced itself as she let   her eyes travel the entire length of her husband.

He cleared his throat and her gaze snapped to his. He was still waiting on her response.

"Ready," she squeaked and grabbed her clutch.

Leo kept up the conversation as they rode to the hotel with his   confident, steady presence. She suspected-and appreciated-it was a ploy   to dispel her nervousness, but it didn't work.

Leo escorted her through the lobby of the hotel with a hand at the small   of her back. She liked the way his hand fit there. It served a dual   purpose of providing support and showing everyone they were together.

And boy, did people notice. Heads swiveled as they entered the crush in   the Renaissance ballroom. A string quartet played Strauss on a small   platform in the corner, but the music couldn't cover the rush of   whispers that surely were about the woman with Leo.

One flawless society wife in progress. Who hadn't gone to college but   was going to be brilliant or die trying. Dannie squared her shoulders.

The neckline of her dress slipped, revealing a healthy slice of breast.   Surreptitiously, she fingered it back into place. The deep vee over her   clea**vage wasn't terribly daring, but it was low-cut and the  spaghetti  straps were too long for her torso. Since the svelte  salmon-colored  dress had cost Elise seven hundred dollars, paying to  have it altered  felt like a sin.

It slipped down again as Leo steered her toward the far corner. As she   walked, she lowered one shoulder, Quasimodo-style, hoping to nudge the   neckline back where it belonged through a combination of shifting her   balance and sheer will.

"Are you okay?" Leo whispered.

She should have worn the dress all day and practiced walking in it.   Hindsight. Double-sided tape could have fixed the problem in a jiffy.

"Of course." She pasted on a serene smile as they halted before a group   of men and women Leo clearly knew. Nodding, she greeted people and used   all her tricks to remember names. Constantly being fired from a  variety  of jobs had an upside-few situations or people intimidated her.

"And this is Jenna Crisp," Leo concluded, indicating a gorgeous redhead   on the arm of Leo's friend Dax Wakefield, who was receiving the alumni   award that evening. "Jenna, this is my wife, Daniella Reynolds."

Dannie shook the woman's hand but Jenna wasn't looking at her. The   redhead's attention was on Leo. Hmm. Dannie glanced at him. He didn't   notice Jenna's scrutiny. Too busy discussing a patent infringement case   with Dax. "I'm happy to meet you, Jenna. Have you known Leo long?"

Jenna focused on Dannie, and her expression noticeably cooled. "Long enough. How did you two meet, again?"

The redhead's tone oozed with challenge, as if there might be something tawdry to the story.                       
       
           



       

That was one area they'd definitely not covered. Did his friends know   he'd gone to a matchmaker? She'd have to settle for a half-truth lest   she embarrass Leo. "A mutual acquaintance introduced us."

"Interesting." The other woman nodded, sweeping long locks over her bare   shoulders. She curled her lips in a semblance of a smile, which didn't   fool Dannie for a second. Jenna did not like her.

"That's how Dax and I met, too. Leo introduced us."

"Oh?" Leo-a matchmaker himself? That was interesting. "I'm sure he was happy to help his friends find each other."

"You think so? Considering the fact that Leo and I were dating at the time, I wasn't sure what to make of it."

Oh, dear. No wonder the daggers in Jenna's eyes were so sharp. Dannie   groaned inwardly. The dinner reservations had just gotten a whole lot   more complicated than whether the table would be big enough.

"I'm sorry. I can't speak for Leo. If you're curious about his motives,   you'd best ask him. Champagne?" she offered brightly, intending to put   some distance between herself and Leo's ex-girlfriend. At least until   she figured out how to navigate the bloody water full of sharks her   husband had dropped her into.

"That would be lovely," Jenna said just as brightly and took Leo's arm   to join in his conversation with Dax, physically blocking Dannie from   the group.

In historical novels, they called that the cut direct. In real life,   Dannie called it something else entirely, and if she said that many   four-letter words out loud, Leo would have a heart attack.

Instead, she went to get Jenna and Leo a glass of champagne.

Really, she understood Jenna's animosity. She'd be confused, too, if Leo   had shuffled her off on a friend and then promptly married someone   else. Dannie also had the superior position between them, a point Jenna   likely hadn't missed. At the end of the day, Dannie's last name was   Reynolds and Jenna's wasn't.

Now she wondered what had really happened between Jenna and Leo. It was a   little uncivilized of Leo not to have warned her. Men. Didn't he   realize what he'd dragged Dannie into?

In reality, he probably hadn't considered it a problem. And it wasn't.   Their marriage was an arrangement and her emotions weren't Leo's primary   concern. That put a little steel in her spine. She had a job to do.

When she rejoined the group, Leo shot her a sidelong smile in gratitude   for the glass of champagne. The flutters his very private grin set off   were enough to forgive him. Almost.

A good wife might choose to forget the whole conversation. She bit her lip.

Then again, a good wife who paid attention to unspoken nuances might   also ensure she didn't mistakenly cause her husband embarrassment.   Forewarned was forearmed, and if Leo expected her to chat up his   associates, she should know exactly what that association was. Right?

"You used to date Jenna?" she murmured in his ear as Dax engaged his date in their own conversation.

"Briefly." Leo's gaze sought out the woman in question, his eyes   narrowing and growing a tad frigid. "She told you? I'm surprised she'd   be so tactless. And I apologize if I put you in an uncomfortable   position."

He'd leaned in, breath teasing along her cheek as he spoke, and she   caught a whiff of something fresh and maybe a little wintry but   definitely all male. His hip brushed hers. Heat pooled at the contact   and spread, giving a whole new meaning to an uncomfortable position.

She waved off his apology. "Nothing I can't handle. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose."