Matched To Mr Right

All men couldn’t be like her father. Leo didn’t flatter her with slick charm, and he’d been nothing but honest with her.

Furthermore, her husband had kissed her passionately, madly, more completely than Dannie had ever been kissed in her life. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened or that she didn’t want more than an occasional text message out of her marriage.

They’d never get past being virtual strangers at this rate. Maybe it was for the best, if Jenna’s fate bore any credence to what might become Dannie’s story. But she couldn’t accept that she and Leo would never see each other. Surely they could spend a little time together. An hour. Thirty minutes.

How was she supposed to handle his social commitments and take care of his every need if he kept avoiding her?

After she saw her mother off in the chauffeured car that Dannie couldn’t quite give up yet, she parked on the couch nearest the stairs, determined to wait for Leo until the cows came home, if necessary. They needed to talk.

An hour later, Dannie started to wonder if Leo intended to sleep at the office. He wouldn’t. Would he? Had she screwed up so badly that he couldn’t even stand to be in the same house with her?

She flung her head back on a cushion and stared at the ceiling. He certainly hadn’t lied to her. He did work all the time and she had done nothing to find her own amusements. Because she didn’t want to. She wanted to be Leo’s wife in every sense of the word, or at least she thought she did, despite being given little opportunity to find out.

Another hour passed. This was ridiculous. Not only was he hindering her ability to take care of him, but he’d agreed they could be friends. How did he think friendship developed?

New tactics were in order. Before she could remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t, she sent Leo a text message: I heard a noise. I think someone is in the house. Can you come home?

Immediately, he responded: Call the police and hit the intruder alarm.

She rolled her eyes and texted him back: I’m scared. I’d like you to come home.

Leo: Be there as soon as I can.

Bingo. She huffed out a relieved breath. It had been a gamble, but only a small one. Leo had a good heart, which wouldn’t have allowed him to do anything else but come home to his wife.

Twenty minutes later, Leo pulled into the drive at the front of the house. Dannie flicked on the enormous carriage lights flanking the entrance arch, illuminating the wide porch, and met him on the steps.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hard gaze sweeping the shadows behind her.

His frame bristled with tension, saying in no uncertain terms he’d protect her from any threat imaginable, and it pulled a long, liquid flash from her core that sizzled. An intruder wouldn’t stand a chance against so much coiled intensity.

“I’m fine.” In a manner of speaking.

Leo’s dark suit looked as superb on him as a tuxedo did. More so, because he was at full alert inside it, his body all hard and masculine. Warrior Leo made her mouth water. She might have to fan herself.

“Did you call the police?” He ushered her inside quickly, one hand steady at her back.

“No. I didn’t hear the noise again and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.” Especially since the noise was entirely fictional. Hopefully, once she hashed things out with Leo, an excuse wouldn’t be necessary to get his attention.

He shot off a series of questions and she answered until he was satisfied there was no imminent danger. “Next time, push the panic button. That’s what the security alarm is for.”

“Did I interrupt something important at work?”

Lines deepened around his eyes as his carriage relaxed and he smiled. “It’s all important. But it’s okay. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Relaxed Leo was nice, too. So much more approachable. She returned his smile and tugged on his arm. “Then sit down for a minute. Tell me about your day.”

He didn’t budge from his statue impression in the foyer. “Not much to tell. Why don’t you go on up to bed? I’ll hang out downstairs and make sure there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Oh, no, you don’t. “I’m not tired. You’re here. I’m here. Come talk to me for a minute.”

He hefted the messenger bag in his hand a little higher in emphasis with an apologetic shrug. “I have some work to finish up.”

“That’ll be there in the morning, too.” Gently, she took the bag from him and laid it on the Hepplewhite table against the wall, a little surprised he’d let her. “We haven’t talked since the alumni gala.”

The mere mention of it laced the atmosphere with a heaviness that prickled her skin. Leo’s gaze fell on hers and silence stretched between them. Was he remembering the kiss? Or was he still determined to forget about it? If so, she’d like to learn that trick.

“There’s a reason for that,” he finally said.

Her stomach tumbled at his frank admission that he’d been avoiding her. She nodded. “I suspected as much. That’s why I want to talk.”

His gaze swept over her face. “I thought you wanted me to tell you about my day.”

“I do.” She started to reach out but stopped as she took in the firm line of his mouth. “But we need to talk regardless. I was hoping to be a little more civil about it, though.”

“Maybe we can catch up tomorrow.” He picked up the messenger bag from the table, but before he could stride from the foyer, she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

Arms crossed, she stared him down. “Be straight with me. I can handle it. Are you regretting your choice in wives? Maybe you’re wishing you’d picked Jenna after all?”

The bag slipped from Leo’s hand and thunked to the floor. “Not now, Daniella.”

“You mean not now, and by the way, not ever? When will we have this conversation if not now?” Too annoyed to check her action, she poked a finger in his chest. Being demure had gotten her exactly nowhere. “You’ve been avoiding me. I want to know why. Am I not performing up to your expectations?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” Guilt flitted through his expression, contradicting the statement. “I’ve got three proposals out, the shareholder value on one of my major investments took a forty percent loss over the last week and a start-up I staked declared bankruptcy today. Is that enough truth for you? The reason we haven’t talked is because I’m extremely busy keeping my company afloat.”

The Monet on the wall opposite her swirled into a mess of colors as she shared some of that guilt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you about the noise. I just wanted to...” See you. Talk to you. Find out if you’ve been thinking of me. “Not be scared.”

Leo’s expression softened and he reached out to grip her shoulder protectively. “You shouldn’t have been. I had the security system installed as soon as you agreed to marry me and it’s top-of-the-line. It would take a SWAT team to breach it. You’re safe here. Do you not feel like you are?”

She stared up into his worried blue eyes and her insides liquefied. He genuinely cared about the answer. “I do.”

It dawned on her then that Leo did a lot behind the scenes—far more than she’d realized. Almost as if he preferred for no one to know about all the wonderful gestures he made or that he was such a kind person underneath. Was he afraid she’d figure out he cared about her more than he let on?

“Good.” The worry slipped from his expression and was replaced with something that looked an awful lot like affection. “The last thing I want is for you to feel anxious or insecure.”

Perfect segue. They shared a drive for security. Surely he’d understand her need to settle things. “You know what would make me feel a lot less anxious? If I knew what was going on between us.” Emboldened by the fact that Leo had cared enough to rush home for her, she went on. “We’re supposed to enjoy each other’s company when we cross paths, but we never cross paths.”

“We just went out a week ago,” he protested with a glint in his eye that warned her to tread carefully.

She wasn’t going to. If Leo pulled another disappearing act, this might be her only chance to make her case. Besides, he said they could talk about anything.

“Exactly. A whole week ago and we haven’t spoken since then, other than a terse ‘Good morning.’ I can’t handle your life if I’m not in it. Besides, our relationship won’t ever develop without deliberate interaction. On both our parts.”

“Daniella.” He put a thumb to his temple. Great, now she was giving him a headache. “What are you asking of me?”

He said it as if she hoped he’d blow through the door and ravish her, when all she really wanted was a conversation over a nice glass of wine. “For starters, call me Dannie. I want to be friends. Don’t you?”

Wariness sprang into his stance. “Depends on your definition of friends. The last time you brought that up, I got the distinct impression it was a euphemism for something else.”