Darlene Gardner - Ordinary Girl, Millionaire Tycoon

Tony laughed his intoxicating laugh. “That must be your son’s way of making sure we don’t forget about him. He’s invited to dinner, too, by the way.”

The magic had gone out of the moment, allowing Kaylee to think more clearly. She could easily make an excuse, begging off dinner on the grounds that she’d come to her senses.

“When?” she asked.

“How’s tomorrow night? At about six o’clock.”

“To be safe, we should make it a little later. I’m going to call a Realtor in the morning. Hopefully Joey and I can spend the afternoon looking for a place to live.”

“Why don’t you hold off on making that call and let me help you find a place?”

She blinked in surprise, then realized how little she knew about him. “Are you a Realtor?”

He shook his head. “I run a company called Security Solutions.”

“You’re a private eye?”

He laughed, touching her arm. Her body leaned toward his, seemingly of its own accord. “It’s online security. I developed a protocol that verifies the identity of remote users.”

“What does that mean in plain English?”

“It means the businesses that use my protocol can be sure the information they exchange online is secure, whether it be a transaction or a business plan.”

“And in your spare time, you help single mothers find places to live?”

He grinned, showing even white teeth. “Exactly. I already told you, I grew up here. I’ve got connections. You can’t afford to house hunt without me.”

“You already know of a place for rent?” she guessed.

“I know the owner, too. Why don’t I pick you up tomorrow around ten and I’ll show it to you?”

The corners of his dark eyes crinkled, and she nearly staggered under the power of his smile. She could come to depend on a man like this in a hurry. Even though that would be unwise, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse his help. Not when she wanted it so very much.

“All right. But I’d rather pick you up,” she said. That way she’d have her car and some vestige of independence. “All I need is an address.”

He gave it to her, and she committed it to memory. The horn blared again. Joey sat in the passenger seat doing a terrible job of looking innocent.

“I think the native is getting restless,” she said and went around the car to the driver’s side. She opened the door, then looked at him over the roof of the car and smiled. “This is crazy, but I don’t even know your last name.”

He smiled back. “It’s Donatelli.”

She might have staggered if she hadn’t been holding on to the door frame. She felt like her body was on autopilot as she lowered herself into position behind the steering wheel and tried to process the new information.

Donatelli was a common Italian surname. Just because Tony shared it with Sofia Donatelli didn’t necessarily mean he was the stepson she’d mentioned on the television broadcast.

But when she cross-checked the address Tony had given her in the white pages of the phone book, Kaylee already knew that Sofia’s name would appear.

That meant Tony Donatelli wasn’t merely a hot guy she’d met at a restaurant. He was a hot guy who could very well be her stepbrother.

CHAPTER FOUR

TONY WHISTLED to himself as he turned his rental car into the middle-class neighborhood where he’d grown up, already looking forward to seeing Kaylee and her son the next day.

He’d briefly considered asking her to dinner tonight before remembering that Sofia was planning a special meal. His stepmother seemed to think she had to make up for serving takeout fettuccini alfredo the night before, even though Nunzio’s made the dish with a recipe she’d invented.

No matter. Tomorrow was soon enough.

He drove by modest brick houses with shingle roofs and yards that looked amazingly like they had twenty years ago. The Stewarts still needed to prune their trees, the Walkowskis’ house could benefit from a paint job and the Pagiossis still had the best-kept lawn in town.

He didn’t stop whistling until he drew even with the Medfords. Something was wrong. He did a double-take. The For Rent sign he’d seen yesterday was no longer there.

“Aw, hell,” he said.

It figured that his friend Will, who happened to be a real estate agent, was out of town on a long weekend. But Sofia had contacts. Maybe she knew of another place for rent.

He parked, walked up the sidewalk and stepped over the automated doormat before unlocking the door and punching in a code to disable the new security system Sofia had installed.

All the while, he tried not to let the old memories blindside him. It was no use. They came rushing at him like a powerful wave, the same way they did every time he entered the house.

It was probably because of the silly doormat his father had invented. An elevated contraption with ground-level machinery, it was supposed to suction dirt off the soles of shoes through tiny holes in the mat. Most of the time, the holes were clogged.

Anthony Donatelli, Sr., had been dead for two years, but a part of Tony still expected him to appear and excitedly fill him in on his latest idea that would make them all rich.

The majority of the time, his father’s ideas had been clunkers, but Tony had to concede his father had the seeds of a few ideas that had turned out to be moneymakers. For other people.

His father’s predictions of striking it rich had been nothing but bluster. He’d always failed, either in the developing or marketing phase.

Tony used to wonder how Sofia could listen to his father blather about the Next Big Thing. He never understood why she’d cheerfully supported them while his father had dreamed away his days.

Tony rubbed at his forehead, trying to banish the memories.

“Sofia. I’m ho…here,” he called.

“You don’t have to break my eardrums, dear. I’m right here.”

Sofia was descending the staircase dressed in a short-sleeved red sweater that complemented her Mediterranean coloring. She’d combed out her thick black hair so that it framed her face, added lip gloss to her naturally red lips and mascara to her already dark lashes. High heels worn under black slacks added inches to her height. The clothes were obviously new.

He whistled long and low. “Did I miss something? Do you have a date tonight?”

“No date.” She spread her hands. “I’m running an errand, is all.”

“Well, you look terrific. Like ten-million bucks.”

She smiled at him and descended the rest of the stairs. Stopping in front of the mirror in the foyer, she fluffed her hair. “Charmer. Where have you been?”

He had no intention of causing her more heartache by telling her about the Connie who hadn’t showed up at the restaurant. “Errands. Same as you.”

“Mine won’t take more than an hour. Then I’m coming straight home to cook you that special dinner.”

“With the fortune you won, you should hire a cook.”

She settled her hands on her hips and cocked her dark head. “I thought you didn’t want me to spend my money.”

“I don’t want you to spend too much of your money on other people. I never said anything about not spending it on yourself.”

“But I don’t need much, Tony. I certainly don’t need someone to cook for me, especially because I’m no longer working at the restaurant. Then what would I do?”

“Relax? Enjoy yourself?” he suggested.

“I’ll relax tonight—while I’m cooking,” she said and headed for the door.

“Sofia, wait.”

She turned an inquisitive look on him.

“Do you know why the Medfords’ house isn’t for rent any longer?”

“Why, yes.” She seemed surprised that he’d asked. “They found someone to rent it this morning. Why?”