Matched to a Billionaire(8)

"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.

Without looking at her again, he muttered, "Good night."

"Leo." A firm hand on his arm stopped him before he'd taken two steps   past her. "I asked you to call me Dannie because that's what my friends   call me. We're friends, aren't we?"

The warmth in her voice washed over him, settling inside with a slow burn. He didn't turn, didn't dare face her.

Something fundamental had changed in her demeanor-the leash she'd kept   on her energy had snapped and yeah, he needed to look out. It leached   into the air, electrifying it. She certainly wasn't afraid to speak to   him any longer. "I... Yes. Of course."

She brushed against his arm as she rounded it, apparently not content to   talk to his back. Her shirt gaped slightly, revealing a tantalizing   peek at her cleavage. The slow burn blazed faster. They were talking   about being friends, not lovers. What was wrong with him?

Dannie. No, too intimate. Daniella was too intriguing. What was he supposed to call her, hey, you?

He couldn't compartmentalize his wife. That was bad.

"Friends," he rasped because he had to say something.

Okay, good. Daniella could go into the friends box. It could work. He'd   envisioned having a companion to fill a hole in his life. Now he had   one.

"Friends." Without breaking eye contact, she reached up and loosened his   tie, leaning into it, fingers lingering far too long for the simple   task. "Who help each other relax."

Relax? Every nerve in his body skated along a razor's edge, desperately   seeking release from the power of his wife's touch. The faint scent of   strawberries wafted from her glossy lips and he wanted to taste it.   "What makes you think I need to relax?"

"I can feel the tension from here, Leo."

Was that what they were calling it these days? Felt like a good, old-fashioned hard-on to him.

As if pulled by imperceptible threads, his body circled closer to hers   and the promise of heat turned into a reality as their lower halves   brushed once, twice. His hand flew to the small of her back to clamp her   tight against him.                       
       
           



       

Fingers still tangled in his loosened tie, she tugged slightly. Her face   tipped up, lips primed to be taken in another kiss, but this time   nothing prevented him from finishing it. From dragging his lips down the   length of his wife's torso, straight to...

He cursed-they'd agreed to be platonic only a few hours ago and they   were in the middle of an innocuous conversation about being friends. Yet   he was salivating at the thought of kissing her, of laughing together   over a joke, of being so much more than a convenience to each other.

He took a deliberate step backward and her hand dropped from his tie.

If she had this strong an effect on him, he was in hotter water than   he'd realized. He did not want to be so obsessed with his wife.