Leanne Banks: From Playboy To Papa!

Dear Reader,

I love a self-made man. All that strength, determination and confidence make this girl weak in the knees!

I’m thrilled to present three irresistible self-made men in my new series, THE MEDICI MEN. During a trip to Italy I was inspired by the tales of the famous Medici family. In my trilogy, the Medici brothers were torn apart as children, and finding their way back to believing in love takes the help of some strong women. In From Playboy to Papa! we meet sexy, wealthy Rafe Medici. When he learns he has a young son, he’s determined to make up for lost time. Nicole Livingstone may be giving Rafe daddy lessons, but Rafe and Nicole quickly start giving each other lessons in love. Both Rafe and Nicole have secrets in their pasts that could destroy their chance for a happy family, so their love will need to be stronger than their secrets. I hope you enjoy the exciting ride of this heart-tugging love story.

I love to hear from readers and would love to hear your thoughts about Rafe. Please write me at leannebbb@aol.com and visit my Web site, www.leannebanks.com.

All the best,

Leanne Banks

It was 1 a.m. and the Medici brothers were ringing in the New Year with a bottle of Scotch and a game of pool. For once, Rafe was finally winning against his older brother Damien. His younger brother Michael, however was nipping at his heels.

“Let’s wrap this up,” Damien said, taking a shot and missing in his haste.

“Anxious to get back to your bride?” Rafe asked, goading him.

“She should be out of the shower by now,” Damien said, a rare smile playing on his lips. “I plan to start the New Year off right.”

“I never thought you’d let a woman come between you and beating me at pool,” Rafe said, sinking a ball into the corner pocket.

“You’re just jealous because you don’t have a woman like Emma waiting for you,” Damien retorted.

Rafe couldn’t prevent a stab of regret. Ever since his disastrous romance with Tabitha Livingstone, he hadn’t let a woman get under his skin. Rafe scratched his next shot and muttered under his breath.

“He’s right about that,” Michael said and shot his ball into the hole. “Yes,” he said in triumph. He lined up his next shot and missed.

Damien glanced at his watch then looked at each of his brothers. He set down his cue and lifted his glass. “To both of you, may you find a woman half as fine as Emma this year.” He took a sip and walked out of the room.

“Then I’ll take the match.” Rafe took the next shot and the next. Two more and he took the game.

“You won,” Michael said.

“Yes, I did,” Rafe said, but the taste of triumph wasn’t nearly as sweet as he’d thought it would be.

“What do you want to do now?” Michael asked, looking as if he too felt at loose ends.

“Blackjack,” Rafe said. “We may not be lucky in love, but I bet we can clean up in cash.”

The photo in the newspaper sitting on the edge of the table distracted Rafe. The woman looked familiar. Pulling the newspaper closer, he took a second look and immediately identified the woman in the background of the photo. Tabitha.

His gut twisted as a half dozen emotions ambushed him. He knew that silky blond hair even though it was darker now, those sexy blue eyes, that body designed to make a man insane. And, boy, had she known how to use it. She’d wrapped him around her little finger then nearly squeezed the life out of him.

“So, this deal must be pretty big to drag you away from South Beach,” his brother Michael said, tugging his attention back to the here and now.

“I don’t mind traveling for the right customer. This client purchased two premium yachts and has some friends who want to lease.” Rafe also didn’t mind taking business away from Livingstone Yachts. In fact, he enjoyed every minute of torturing Tabitha’s father, but he would keep that to himself. “What about you? Business looks good,” Rafe said, glancing around the bar that his brother had turned into Atlanta ’s newest hotspot. He shook his head. “Michael’s magic touch again.”

Michael gave a rough chuckle. “You know better than that. It’s me working my butt off.”

“The way of the Medicis,” Rafe said and thought of their oldest brother, Damien. “Damien would agree, but only to a certain extent since he’s happily married now.” His gaze was drawn again to the copy of The Atlanta-Constitution. He couldn’t believe he’d foolishly considered a future with Tabitha.

“Hey, you’re not listening to a word I’m saying,” Michael said. “What are you looking at?”

Rafe narrowed his eyes, spotting the small boy standing beside Tabitha. Couldn’t be more than four or five years old he thought. The lying woman had been seeing someone else at the same time she’d been burning up his bed, he thought in disgust. He’d caught her trying to seduce one of his clients.

“Do you know the guy in the wheelchair?” Michael asked.

“What-” Rafe paused and perused the article featuring a Marine veteran making a new life despite extensive disabilities. What the hell was Tabitha doing with him? She was a spoiled rich girl.

He frowned and studied the photo again. The little boy had brown, curly hair and stood shyly beside her leg. Rafe did the math and cold realization rushed through him. The boy looked like a Medici. Despite the fact that she was a cheater, he could be his son.

“Rafe, you’re acting weird as hell,” his brother said, his voice tinged with alarm.

“Yeah, well-” He shook his head and pointed to the article. “You know where this place is?”

Michael lifted his brow. “Yeah, not the nicest neighborhood in town. You probably don’t want to spend a lot of time there after dark.”

Rafe glanced at his watch. Eleven o’clock. Damn. He clenched his fist. He would find out if he had a son or not.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked.

“I’m not sure, but I’m damn well going to find out first thing in the morning.”

Nicole Livingstone pulled her coat around her body more tightly to ward off the January weather. Even though Atlanta was in the South, winter temperatures could dip into the thirties. She headed for her car, noticing a tall, handsome man walking along the same sidewalk toward her.

If she’d been the type to flirt, now would be the time. The man’s broad shoulders were encased in a black leather jacket and he walked with a powerful and purposeful gait. His dark hair was tousled by the wind. Strong eyebrows framed his dark eyes. His cheeks held a tinge of color from the chill. The only downside was that his full mouth was set in a straight hard line, as if he were displeased and going to do something about it.

She averted her gaze.

“Tabitha,” the man said, stopping in front of her. “Tabitha Livingstone.”

Nicole whipped her gaze up to meet his, stunned that he would know her sister’s name. “I’m not-”

“Don’t try to fool me,” he said. “You and I knew each other very well.”

Nicole took a short breath, caught between disappointment and trepidation. Being mistaken for her twin had happened to her too many times to count, but not since her sister had died. The problem was that Nicole was never sure exactly how Tabitha had treated the person confronting her. Since her sister had died a few years ago, hearing the mistake came as a shock.