Secrets of the Playboy's Bride(3)

She smiled at his teasing tone. "Close to forever. I asked for a  telescope when I was a very young child. A lot of kids get them, then  they're abandoned in the attic. You strike me as the kind of man with  both feet on the ground. Do you remember what you did with your  telescope?"

"I didn't ever have a telescope," he said, with a chuckle that didn't meet his eyes. "I didn't have a childhood."

She blinked at his statement. "What? Everyone has a childhood. Unless you were hatched or are an alien."

He shook his head. "As far as I'm concerned, life for me began at  sixteen. But enough about my boring past. I'd like to know more about  you."

He was more charming than she'd planned, but she supposed she should  have expected that. After all, he'd essentially been a grifter, a con  artist. Wasn't that the job requirement for con artists?                       
       
           



       

Just after the server delivered their drinks, a man approached the  table. He looked vaguely familiar to Calista, but she couldn't name him.  She wondered if he was one of Leo's acquaintances, except he kept  looking at her.

"Calista French. All grown up. I remember you as a young teen," the man said.

Calista searched the man's face but still couldn't recall him. "I'm sorry. I'm drawing a blank."

The man laughed but his eyes were cold. "William Barrett. I was one of your father's business partners."

Calista felt her blood drain to her feet. William Barrett had sued her  father's estate and then gone after her mother after her father had  died. She mustered a blank expression. "You're correct. I was very  young. I hope you're enjoying your dinner. It's a lovely restaurant,  isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. How is your mother these days?" he asked.

She couldn't quite keep from digging her fingernails into her palms, but  at least her hands were in her lap out of sight. "My mother passed away  several years ago."

Barrett raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm sorry. Of course, I knew about your father, but-"

The maître d' approached Barrett. "Sir, I've been asked by the manager  to inform you that your party will receive a complimentary appetizer. We  just need to know your preference. Your server has a menu at your  table."

Barrett gave a loud bark of a laugh. "Must be my lucky day. Hope to see you again, Calista."

Calista said nothing and reached for her glass of wine, barely resisting the urge to hiss at the man.

"You don't like him, do you?" Leo asked.

"Was I so obvious?"

"You turned pale," he said.

"He treated my family poorly during a difficult time," she said.

"Then I'll tell his server to pour red wine on him," he said.

His suggestion lightened her mood. "Oh, they wouldn't do that on  purpose," she said, feeling a slight pinch at the memory of the  margarita she'd poured on Leo.

He lifted an eyebrow. "My personal assistant usually runs interference  when I'm eating in a public place, but I allowed this man to approach  because he might have been a friend of yours. Next time we're in public,  I'll stick to my routine."

Although Calista had been raised in a relatively wealthy home, she'd  never heard of her father employing an assistant for such a task. She  glanced around. "Is your assistant here tonight?"

He nodded behind her and waved his hand. A brawny middle-aged man  approached them. "George, this is Miss French. We'd prefer no  interruptions for the remainder of the meal."

"Miss French," George said in a gruff voice with a nod.

"George, it's nice to meet you," Calista said, extending her hand.

Looking slightly uncomfortable, he shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you  also, Miss," he said then turned to Leo. "Enjoy your dinner, sir."

George turned around with his hands folded behind his back, creating a barrier between their table and the rest of the room.

Calista let out a sigh of relief. Barrett wouldn't be approaching her  again that evening. "Must ask. What does he say to people who try to  approach the table?"

"Mr. Grant and his guest would like to enjoy their meal without interruption. Thank you for your consideration," he recited.

"Has it ever not worked?" she asked. "What happens if they ignore him?"

"That's only happened three times. George says, I insist."

"And if that doesn't work?"

He hesitated, then smiled. "You want to know about the one time that a  man wouldn't take no for an answer? George is a former boxer, but he was  homeless when I met him. He's my trainer and sparring partner."

Surprised, she stared at him for a moment. "Is he your bodyguard?"

Leo laughed. "Hell, no. He's the best friend I've ever had. I just had  to find a way to get him off the streets and the only way I could do it  was to employ him. Shocked?"

"Yes." She paused a second. "In a good way."

He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers. "To no more interruptions."

A couple hours later, Leo escorted her downstairs and outside. He was  tall and moved with athletic grace. He oozed confidence, strength and  mystery even though she knew his secret. Sliding his fingers through  hers, he looked down at her. "Come to my house for an after-dinner  drink," he said, his eyes full of invitation.

Her stomach dipped, taking her by surprise. "I can't. I have my car," she said.                       
       
           



       

"One of my drivers can pick it up for you," he countered.

She was stunned at the heat that rushed through her. "I have to go to  work tomorrow," she said and suddenly remembered she was supposed to be  seducing him. "Rain check?"

He leaned toward her and pressed his mouth against hers. Her breath left her body.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll walk you to your car."

She vacillated, not wanting him to see her older vehicle. "Um."

"I insist," he said and slid his hand behind her back.

They passed a homeless man on the sidewalk with a can for donations. She  watched in amazement as Leo stuffed a twenty dollar bill inside. "Take  care," he murmured to the man.

"Thank you," the homeless man said. "Go in peace."

Leo glanced at her and must have read the surprise on her face. "In different circumstances, that could be me," he said.

Something in his tone jerked at her heart. He spoke as if he had insider  experience. She slid another assessing glance at him. Who was this man?  He was different than she'd expected.

They arrived at her car in the parking garage and a black Town Car  pulled alongside them. "Don't worry. It's just George. He's also one of  my drivers," he said. "Are you sure I can't persuade you to extend the  evening?"

"You probably could," she said, surprised at the breathlessness in her  voice. She had a plan here, a strategy. She shouldn't be this attracted  to him. "But I'm hoping to appeal to your better nature and that you'll  encourage me to get the rest I need for my busy workday tomorrow."

Leo gave a rough chuckle. "My better nature? I'm not sure that exists."  He lowered his head and pressed his mouth against hers. His mouth was  both firm and soft, exploring and seducing. "Come to my lake house this  weekend," he muttered against her lips. "It will be your reward for  being a good analyst."

Calista sighed. "I can't. I have a previous commitment on Saturday."

"Break it," he said.

"I really can't," she said. "I promised to take my younger sisters  shopping for prom dresses on Saturday." She shot him a teasing smile.  "Wanna join us? Your opportunity to get up close and personal with teen  girl drama."

"Sounds tempting, but I'll pass," he said dryly. "Will you be done by Saturday evening?"

"Yes. Why?" she asked.

"Then we can leave for the lake on Saturday evening. We'll take my helicopter. Say yes," he said.

She looked into his deep brown eyes and felt a shudder of intuitive  warning reverberate inside her. "Yes," she said and wondered if she was  making a huge mistake.

"Good." He glanced down at her car and frowned. "You won't be driving this car home tonight."

"Why not?" she asked then noticed her tires had been slashed. Her stomach dipped. "Oh, no! Are all of them-"

Checking the tires on the other side of the car, he nodded. "All four."  He glanced at the car next to hers. "Look," he said. "All the tires of  the cars in this row have been slashed. Damn vandals," he muttered and  waved for George to approach.

Calista mentally added up the cost of replacing the tires and stifled a  groan. She had neither the time nor the money to spare for this.