Полная версия
Dynasties: The Barones
Dynasties
January 2020
Dynasties: The Jarrods
February 2020
Dynasties: The Ashtons
March 2020
Dynasties: The Danforths
April 2020
Dynasties: The Barones
May 2020
Dynasties: The Lassiters
June 2020
Dynasties: The Montoros
About the Authors
LEANNE BANKS is a New York Times bestselling author with over sixty books to her credit. A book lover and romance fan from even before she learned to read, Leanne has always treasured the way that books allow us to go to new places and experience the lives of wonderful characters. Always ready for a trip to the beach, Leanne lives in Virginia with her family and her Pomeranian muse.
CAROLINE CROSS writes romance because life is endlessly challenging and she believes we all need an occasional reminder that good people and true love do exist—if one just looks hard enough and has faith in happy endings. Winner of numerous awards, including a RITA® Award for Best Short Contemporary, she lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband of two decades, has two wonderful daughters, and depends on her family and friends to keep her grounded. A devoted romance reader herself, she always hopes that her books can bring others a little of the enjoyment and satisfaction she feels when she reads her own favourite authors.
SHERI WHITEFEATHER is an award-winning, national bestselling author. Her novels are generously spiced with love and passion. She has also written under the name Cherie Feather. She enjoys travelling and going to art galleries, libraries and museums. Visit her website at www.sheriwhitefeather.com where you can learn more about her books and find links to her Facebook and Twitter pages. She loves connecting with readers.
Dynasties: The Barones
The Playboy & Plain Jane
Leanne Banks
Sleeping Beauty’s Billionaire
Caroline Cross
Sleeping with Her Rival
Sheri WhiteFeather
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-0-008-90695-5
DYNASTIES: THE BARONES
The Playboy & Plain Jane © 2003 Harlequin Books S.A. Sleeping Beauty’s Billionaire © 2003 Harlequin Books S.A. Sleeping With Her Rival © 2003 Harlequin Books S.A.
Published in Great Britain 2020
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Table of Contents
Cover
About the Authors
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
The Playboy & Plain Jane
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Sleeping Beauty’s Billionaire
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Sleeping with Her Rival
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Epilogue
About the Publisher
The Playboy & Plain Jane
Leanne Banks
Special thanks to Marilyn Puett
for being the silver lining in a dark cloud.
This book is dedicated to all the wanna-be
girl jocks.
I’m right there with you!
Prologue
She’d been a blue-eyed beauty with a body that could send a man’s brains straight to his crotch. She’d also had a faithless heart of glass that could cut a man to ribbons.
If Nicholas Barone had been a superstitious man, he would have admitted that the Valentine’s Day curse on his family continued. Almost two years ago, on February 14, he’d bought the ring and been prepared to propose to Danielle Smithson.
He remembered using his key to enter her apartment, wanting to surprise her, only to overhear her boasting to a friend on the phone that she was going to “bag the big one tonight.” Justifiably confident of her allure, Danielle had feigned an attentiveness he’d later learned was purely calculated to achieve her goal. In this case, Danielle had been willing to pretend she adored Nicholas in order to get her hands on his family’s money.
Bitterness still filled him at the memory of the ugly scene that had followed. When she’d been unable to deny her deception, she’d done her feminine best to placate him. Nicholas might be American through and through, but his Italian blood ran hot, and he’d sworn he would have nothing to do with her.
Even at this moment, standing in the darkness of his daughter’s nursery on this January day, he felt anger roll through him with renewed strength. He looked down at the sleeping one-year-old daughter he hadn’t known existed until ten days ago. Just after Nicholas had broken up with Danielle, she’d found another man with a hefty bank account and had apparently tried to pawn Molly off as his daughter.
He took a deep breath and exhaled a fraction of his bitterness. Drawing solace from the sight of Molly’s innocence and vulnerability, he heard footsteps from behind him. His mother and father, he suspected. His father would deny it, but when it came to his eight children, both of his parents were professional worriers. When Nicholas recalled the shenanigans he and his siblings had tried to pull over the years, it was a wonder his parents hadn’t been driven over the edge.
Feeling his mother’s hand on his arm, Nicholas turned. His father, a man who’d always managed to inspire respect despite the fact that he stood under six feet tall, shook his head as he glanced at the crib. Fierce anger emanated from him. “I’ll never forgive that woman for keeping your child from you. To think you wouldn’t have learned you even had a daughter if Danielle hadn’t died. I can never forgive her for that.”
His father’s bitterness echoed Nicholas’s. “We don’t need to spend energy forgiving Danielle. She’s dead. I have my hands full helping Molly make the adjustment to living with me and accepting me as her father.”
His mother squeezed his arm again. “Molly will accept you in no time. I can still help take care of her.”
Carlo Barone put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I don’t want you overdoing. You may still turn men on their ears when you walk into a room, but you shouldn’t be chasing after a one-year-old all day and night.”
Moira Barone might not have been born Italian, but she knew how to stand her ground. She lifted her red-haired head with a trace of defiance. “If you can continue to be CEO of the top gelati company in America, why can’t I chase my one-year-old granddaughter?”
“I continue to be CEO because Nicholas is COO and I can trust him. My children have finally left home. I have earned the right to my wife’s undivided attention at the end of the day. No?” he demanded.
Nicholas hid a grin at his father’s possessiveness. At sixty-three, his mother was still the light of his father’s life. “I appreciate you helping take care of her the past ten days and I still want you to be involved with Molly,” Nicholas assured his mother. Although his mother had been perfectly willing to care for Molly, Nicholas knew his daughter was demanding. The poor child cried frequently since she’d arrived at his home.
“Because Molly has lost her mother, I know I need to create a stable environment for her. My housekeeper does an excellent job, but taking care of children isn’t her forte. With my demanding position, I need a nanny. I’ve already contacted a couple of reputable agencies.”
His mother’s eyebrows knitted in concern as she glanced into the crib. “If you’re sure,” she said uncertainly.
“I am,” Nicholas told her.
“Nicholas is right. He will take care of the bambina and we will be good grandparents,” his father said.
“I can still visit her as often as I want?” his mother asked.
Nicholas’s heart softened. His mother had already grown attached to her first grandchild despite Molly’s crying jags. “Every day, if you like.”
Moira sighed, turning to Nicholas. “She is such a beautiful child. She looks just like you when you were a baby. Curly black hair, blue eyes and a stubborn chin.” She slid a sideways glance at her husband. “You got the dark hair and stubborn chin from your father. But like your father, you’re a good man.” She met Nicholas’s gaze. “You’ll be a good father. Molly’s a very lucky girl.”
Nicholas’s heart squeezed. His mother’s vote of confidence was a balm on his troubled soul. He was still reeling from the news that at thirty-five he was a father, and heaven knew, he wasn’t an expert on one-year-old girls. “Thanks, Mom.”
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “It’s only the truth,” she said, and glanced at her husband. “I’ll get my coat.”
Carlo squeezed his wife’s hand. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
She nodded. “Just remember to keep your voice down. Sleeping baby.”
As soon as his mother left, his father cleared his throat. “If you need anything, you must call me immediately.”
Nicholas nodded. “I’ll handle this.”
“I know you will,” Carlo said. “You’ve met every challenge put before you. I’d hoped you would find a love like the one your mother and I share…”
Bitterness suffused Nicholas again. “I found Danielle, instead.”
“You’re young,” Carlo protested. “Your life isn’t over.”
“My focus now is on providing for my daughter. With a nanny, I’ll have no need for a wife.”
“A nanny can’t take care of all of a man’s needs.”
“A man doesn’t have to marry to take care of those needs,” Nicholas said dryly.
Carlo wagged his finger. “One day you will understand the needs of the heart. But for now you’re right. You must concentrate on taking care of your daughter.” He hesitated a moment and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You were going to propose to Danielle on Valentine’s Day, weren’t you?”
Nicholas knew his father was remembering the Valentine’s Day curse that had left its mark on more than one generation of Barones. His father had never professed belief or disbelief, just an underlying wariness. “Yes, I was. We fought and she left town.”
A thoughtful silence followed. Carlo glanced at Molly. “If the curse is true, this time it has brought you a gift.”
One
Gail Fenton looked at the doozy of a run in her panty hose and tried to tug the hem of her dress lower to conceal it. She wasn’t having a good hair day, either, but with her noncompliant red curls, she couldn’t remember ever having a good hair day. Perfect grooming probably wasn’t a requirement for the job of nanny to a one-year-old, but looking like a slob during the interview wouldn’t help her chances, either. Then again, if Gail felt out of place in the elegant formal living room of Nicholas Barone’s luxurious town house, how must his poor little girl feel?
Nicholas Barone’s assistant, Mrs. Peabody, who explained she’d come from the office to assist her boss with these interviews, looked over her half glasses. “Your résumé says you hold a degree in computer science. Why do you want to be a nanny?”
Translation: Are you nuts to give up the prestige of a computer position to change diapers? Gail was accustomed to the question and had her answer ready. “I find working with children much more rewarding. Children smile, hug and laugh. Computers don’t.”
“Then why didn’t you major in early-childhood education or something similar?” Mrs. Peabody asked.
“My brother’s influence,” Gail confessed. Her brother, Adam, had wielded his influence in several areas, and with both parents gone, Gail had been susceptible to his guidance until recently. “My brother encouraged me to major in computer science because it’s a marketable field and I’ve always been pretty good with computers. But during the summer before I graduated, I took a position as a nanny and loved it. After I graduated, I worked with Manatee Computer Services. The company recently downsized, and I saw this as my opportunity to do something I want to do—work with a child.”
“Your references are excellent,” Mrs. Peabody mused. “You realize this is a live-in position?” she asked.
“That’s no problem for me,” Gail said. “My roommate is getting married.”
Mrs. Peabody nodded thoughtfully. “I think Mr. Barone should meet you. Please wait while I get him.”
Gail felt a jiggle of nerves in her stomach. “I’ll be here,” she said with a smile.
As soon as the woman left, Gail rose and paced around the beautiful room. At her age, twenty-five, she was surprised at her case of nerves. Although she’d wanted a career change, she hadn’t realized how much she wanted this job. She wanted more of a feeling of connection in her life. She stopped pacing to study a collection of family photographs on the wall.
The Barones. There was a passel of them, and their names and faces frequently graced the Boston Globe society and business pages. She wondered what it would be like to have that many brothers and sisters, and felt a pinch of longing. With both her parents gone, it was just Gail and her brother now, and although Adam was generous with his advice, he was busy with his own career. Gail had plenty of friends, but since college she’d missed feeling as if she really belonged.
The sound of a woman’s cultured voice and a child’s loud wail broke her reverie. Gail peeked out the doorway and spotted a statuesque, red-haired, older woman in what was obviously a designer dress. Not one smoothly coiffed hair was out of place, Gail noticed in awe as she absently smoothed her hand over her own mass of curls.
The woman held a howling, dark-haired little girl in her arms. She glanced up with a pained expression and met Gail’s gaze. “Our Molly is still adjusting.”
Curious, Gail craned her neck to get a better look at her potential charge. “A lot of us feel a little cranky when we first wake up. Amazing what a diaper change, juice and a cookie can do.”
The woman smiled and walked closer. “A diaper change for adults?”
“Well, you must admit some adults act like their underwear is a little too tight, and they don’t have the excuse of a wet diaper.”
The woman gave a throaty chuckle. “So true. I’m Moira Barone and this is Molly. Sorry I can’t offer my hand.”
“I’m Gail Fenton. Pleased to meet you and Molly.” Gail gasped at the beauty of the screaming child. “My goodness, she’s gorgeous. Even with her face red as a tomato.”
Moira chuckled again, then shook her head. “I think she’s just getting herself more worked up.”
Gail blew into the baby’s face. Molly paused in her screaming and opened her eyes, her long black eyelashes damp with tears. She stared hard at Gail, and her lower lip protruded as if she was gearing up for another cry.
“Peekaboo,” Gail said, and moved out of sight.
Silence, followed by a hiccup.
Gail popped back. “Peekaboo,” she said with a smile and moved away.
Silence again. Molly turned her head to search for her.
Gail moved back into view again. “Peekaboo.”
A slow smile curved Molly’s mouth.
Moira shook her head in amazement. “I have eight grown children, and I had completely forgotten peekaboo.”
“Too many garden-club meetings with society matrons,” a man said as he strolled into the room with Mrs. Peabody by his side.
Gail glanced at the man and her jaw dropped. Well over six feet tall, jet-black hair, chiseled facial features and the lean, muscular kind of body that no doubt had women littering his path. He probably had to beat females off with a stick. The glint of ruthlessness in his eyes affected her stomach. Other women would try to tame him, but she possessed neither the attractiveness, sex appeal or polish necessary to match wits with or seduce a man like Nicholas Barone. Besides, she knew he’d never look twice at her. Darn shame, but that was the truth. Oh well, she supposed she could admire him from afar.
She instinctively turned to Moira. The older woman was safer. “The power of peekaboo is greatly underestimated, but I’m sure you would have remembered it soon enough.”
“Perhaps necessity might have jogged my memory,” Moira said, looking down at her grandchild. “Or desperation.”
“And what would a computer specialist know about peekaboo?” the man asked, his eyes cynical.
Gail paused less than a beat. She suspected there was a reason for the cynicism, but she disliked the attitude. Something told her he wasn’t a man who worried about being liked. She met his gaze head-on, confident in her ability to care for the man’s child, and just as confident about her lack of feminine appeal. “I could write a dissertation on the subject of peekaboo. The wonderful thing about peekaboo is that it requires no special equipment and can be employed at any time, just about any place. But there are some requirements for the game.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “And they are?”
“A sense of humor and a willingness to—” She broke off, her stomach a riot of butterflies at the intent way he stared at her. Gail felt heat rush through her bloodstream.
“Willingness to what?” he prompted.
She cleared her throat and prayed in vain that her cheeks weren’t turning fire-engine red with embarrassment. “A willingness for the adult involved to completely ditch his or her dignity,” she said, pretty sure she’d just lost hers.
His lips twitched slightly. “Is that so?” He glanced at her résumé. “Why isn’t ‘peekaboo specialist’ on here?”
Gail laughed in a combination of relief and amusement. “I knew I’d forgotten something.”
“Nicholas Barone,” he said, extending his hand and meeting her gaze.
She accepted his handshake. “Gail Fenton, but I imagine you already know that.”
“You imagine correctly. You’ve met Molly,” he said, glancing down at his daughter. “Bellisima,” he said to the child, then dropped a kiss on her forehead.
Molly stared up at him and her lower lip protruded in a pre-wail position.
Gail couldn’t blame the child. If Nicholas seemed larger than life to her, she could hardly imagine what a baby might think of him.
“Please join me in the living room,” he said to Gail. “I have a few questions.”
“Of course,” Gail said. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Barone, Mrs. Peabody and Molly,” she said as the tyke began to fuss. Gail followed Nicholas into the living room.
“She hasn’t smiled for me yet,” he muttered, motioning Gail to sit across from him on the couch. He took the large wing chair.
“She’s in awe,” Gail said.
He shot her a look of doubt. “Awe?”
“Well, yes. To normal people, you’re quite tall, but to her, you’re huge.”
“Normal people,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“Average,” Gail corrected, thinking he was one of those men who couldn’t miss a day of shaving. “Something tells me you’re not familiar with the idea of being average,” she said, and bit her lip. “Sorry. That was way too personal for an interview.”
He nodded. “Yes, it was, but you’re right. Barones aren’t allowed to be average.”
She saw a world of experience in his blue eyes and knew without his saying that he had always pushed himself, that much had been required of him and that he had done whatever it took.
He glanced at the application again. “I still don’t understand why you would choose to be a nanny when you could work at any number of top companies.”
She bit back a groan. “I like to play peekaboo,” she said. “Computers don’t.”
He remained silent as if waiting for the real explanation.
“When I work with computers, I don’t feel as if I’m making an important contribution. But when I take care of a child, I feel as if I’m shaping the future. I love the feeling of connectedness I get from caring for a child.”
“Mrs. Peabody tells me both your parents are deceased,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising her with the gentle note in his voice. “You have one brother?”
“Who has tried to micromanage my life.”
He shot her a questioning glance, amazing her with his ability to extract information with just an expression.
“After I attended community college in Iowa, he persuaded me to finish my education here in Boston.”
“How does he feel about you taking this position?”
“How he feels about it isn’t important. How you, Molly and I feel about it is important.”
He nodded. “Are you engaged or in a serious relationship?”
Gail paused. “That’s personal, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but pertinent. I’ve just gained custody of a daughter I didn’t even know existed until a couple of weeks ago. I don’t want to hire someone who can’t make a long-term commitment.”
