A Billionaire for Christmas Page 16

  An odd look flashed across Leo’s face. “Thank you. Please keep our visit quiet. I hope to surprise my brother tomorrow.”

  “At the Christmas party, yes?” The dumpy man with the Italian accent nodded with a smile. “My nephew works in your mail room. He is looking forward to it.”

  “Tell him to introduce himself if he gets a chance.”

  Leo held Phoebe’s chair as she was seated and then joined her on the opposite side of the table. He handed her a menu. “I have my favorites, but you should take a look. They make everything from scratch, and it’s all pretty amazing.”

  After they ordered, Phoebe cocked her head and stared at him with a smile. “Does everyone in Atlanta know who you are?”

  “Hardly. I’m just the guy who writes the checks.”

  “Modest, but suspect.”

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “I’m not a player, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You don’t have the traditional little black book full of names?”

  “My phone is black. And a few of the contacts are women.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I’ll plead the Fifth Amendment.”

  Phoebe enjoyed the dinner immensely. Leo was wearing a beautiful navy-and-gray tweed blazer with dark slacks. Even battle-scarred, he was the most impressive man in the room. Despite his size, he handled his fragile wineglass delicately, his fingers curled around the stem with care.

  Thinking about Leo’s light touch made Phoebe almost choke on a bite of veal. When she had drained her water glass and regained her composure, Leo grinned. “I don’t know what you were thinking about, but your face is bright red.”

  “You’re the one with the sex injury,” she pointed out.

  “Fair enough.” His lips twitched, and his gaze promised retribution later for her refusal to explain.

  On the way home, it started to rain. Phoebe loved the quiet swish of the wipers and the fuzzy glow of Christmas decorations in every window. Leo turned down a side street and parked at the curb. He stared through the windshield, his expression oddly intent, his hands clenched on the steering wheel.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He glanced at her, eyes hooded. “Nothing’s wrong. Would you mind if we go up to my office?”

  She craned her neck, for the first time seeing the Cavallo name on the building directory. “Of course not.” He was acting very strangely.

  Leo exited the car, opened an umbrella and came around the car to help her out. Fortunately her shoes were not expensive, because her feet tripped through the edge of a puddle as they accessed the sidewalk.

  She shivered while he took a set of keys from his pocket and opened the main door. The plate glass clunked shut behind them. “Over there,” Leo said. Again, using his private keys, they entered a glossy-walled elevator.

  Phoebe had seen dozens of movies where lovers used a quick ride to sneak a passionate kiss. Leo clearly didn’t know the plot, because he leaned against the wall and studied the illuminated numbers as they went higher and higher. Cavallo occupied the top twelve floors.

  When they arrived at their destination, Phoebe was not surprised to see all the trappings of an elite twenty-first-century business. A sleek reception area decorated for the season, secretarial cubicles, multiple managerial offices and, at the far end of the floor on which they entered, an imposing door with Leo’s name inscribed on a brass panel.

  Another key, another entry. They skirted what was obviously the domain of an executive assistant and walked through one last door.

  Leo stopped so suddenly, she almost ran into his back. She had a feeling he had forgotten her presence. He moved forward slowly, stopping to run a hand along the edge of what was clearly his desk. The top was completely bare, the surface polished to a high sheen.

  Leo turned to her suddenly, consternation on his face. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, pointing to a leather chair and ottoman near the window. “That’s where I like to sit when I have paperwork to read through. I won’t be long.”

  She did as he suggested, noting that much like his sophisticated home, his place of business, arguably the epicenter of his life, had two transparent walls. The dark, rainy night beyond the thick glass was broken up by a million pinpoints of light, markers of a city that scurried to and fro.

  As she sat down and propped her feet on the ottoman, she relaxed into the soft, expensive seat that smelled of leather and Leo’s distinctive aftershave. The faint aroma made her nostalgic suddenly for the memory of curling up with him on her sofa, enjoying the Christmas tree and watching the fire.

  Leo prowled, tension in the set of his shoulders. He opened drawers, shuffled papers, flicked the leaves of plants on the credenza. He seemed lost. Or at the very least confused.

  Hoping to give him the semblance of privacy, she picked up a book from the small table at her elbow. It was a technical and mostly inaccessible tome about third-world economies. She read the first two paragraphs and turned up her nose. Not exactly escape reading.

  Next down the pile was a news magazine. But the date was last month’s, and she was familiar with most of the stories. Finally, at the bottom, was a collection of Sunday newspapers. Someone had taken great care to stack them in reverse order. Again, they were out of date, but that same someone had extracted the “Around Town” section of the most recent one and folded it to a story whose accompanying photograph she recognized instantly. It was Leo.

  Reading automatically, her stomach clenched and her breathing grew choppy. No. This had to be a mistake.

  She stood up, paper in her hand, and stared at him. Disbelief, distress and anger coursed through her veins in a nauseating cocktail. “You had a heart attack?”

  Leo froze but turned around to face her, his shoulders stiff and his whole body tensed as if facing an enemy. “Who told you that?”

  She threw the paper at him, watching it separate and rain down on the thick pile carpet with barely a sound. “It’s right there,” she cried, clutching her arms around her waist. Prominent Atlanta Businessman Leo Cavallo, Age 36, Suffers Heart Attack. “My God, Leo. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him with an appalled groan. “You carried wood for me. And chopped down a tree. I made you drag heavy boxes from the attic. Damn it, Leo, how could you not tell me?”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal.” His expression was blank, but his eyes burned with an emotion she couldn’t fathom.

  She shivered, her mind a whirl of painful thoughts. He could have died. He could have died. He could have died. And she would never have known him. His humor. His kindness. His incredibly sexy and appealing personality. His big, perfect body.

  “Trust me,” she said slowly. “When a man in his thirties has a heart attack, it’s a big freaking deal.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, the line of his mouth grim. “I had a very mild heart attack. A minor blockage. It’s a hereditary thing. I’m extraordinarily healthy. All I have to do now is keep an eye on certain markers.”

  As she examined the days in the past week, things kept popping up, memories that made her feel even worse. “Your father,” she whispered. “You said he had a heart attack. And that’s why the boat crashed.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s it. Just yes? Did it ever occur to you when you were screwing me that your medical history was information I might have wanted to know? Hell, Leo, I gave you every intimate detail of my past and you couldn’t be bothered to mention something as major as a heart attack?” She knew she was shouting and couldn’t seem to stop. Her heart slammed in her chest.

  “I’ve never heard you curse. I don’t like it.”

  “Well, that’s just too damn bad.” She stopped short, appalled that she was yelling l
ike a shrew. Hyperventilation threatened. “That’s why you came to my cabin, isn’t it? I thought maybe you’d had a bad case of the flu. Or complications from pneumonia. Or even, God forbid, a mental breakdown of some sort. But a heart attack…” Her legs gave out, and she sank back into the chair, feeling disappointed and angry and, beneath it all, so scared for him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Leo? Why couldn’t you trust me with the truth? Surely I deserved that much consideration.”

  But then it struck her. He hadn’t shared the intimate details of his illness with her because she didn’t matter. The bitter realization sat like a stone in her stomach. Leo had kept his secrets, because when all was said and done, Phoebe was nothing more than a vacation romance of sorts. Leo wasn’t serious about any kind of a future with her. He fully planned to return to his old life and take up where he left off. As soon as his doctor gave permission.

  He came to her then, sat on the ottoman and put a hand on her leg. “It wasn’t something I could easily talk about, Phoebe. Try to understand that. I was a young man. One minute I was standing in a room, doing my job, and the next I couldn’t breathe. Strangers were rushing me out to an ambulance. It was a hellish experience. All I wanted to do was forget.”

  “But you didn’t want to come to the mountains.”

  “No. I didn’t. My doctor, who happens to be a good friend, and my brother, who I consider my best friend, gave me no choice. I was supposed to learn how to control my stress levels.”

  She swallowed, wishing he wasn’t touching her. The warmth of his hand threatened to dissolve the fragile hold she had on her emotions. “We had sex, Leo. To me, that’s pretty intimate. But I can see in retrospect that I was just a piece of your convalescent plan, not dictated by your doctor friend, I’m sure. Did it even cross your mind to worry about that?”

  He hesitated, and she knew she had hit a nerve.

  She saw him swallow. He ran a hand through his hair, unintentionally betraying his agitation. “The first time I was with you…in that way, I hadn’t had sex since my heart attack. And to be honest, not for several months before that. Do you want me to tell you I was scared shitless? Is that going to make you feel better?”

  She knew it was the nature of men to fear weakness. And far worse was having someone witness that vulnerability. So she even understood his angry retort to some extent. But that didn’t make her any less despairing. “You haven’t taken any of this seriously, have you, Leo? You think you’re invincible and that your exile to Tennessee was just a momentary inconvenience. Do you even want to change your ways?” Coming to the office tonight said louder than words what he was thinking.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Nothing important ever is,” she whispered, her throat almost too tight for speech. She stood up and went to the window, blinking back tears. If he couldn’t admit that he needed a life outside of work, and if he couldn’t be honest with himself or with her, then he wasn’t ready for the kind of relationship she wanted.

  In that moment, she knew that any feeble hope she had nurtured for intimacy with Leo, even in the short term, was futile. “May we leave now?” she asked, her emotions at the breaking point. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

  Twenty

  Leo knew he had hurt Phoebe. Badly. But for the life of him, he couldn’t see a way to fix things. She disappeared into her room as soon as they got home from his office. The next day, they barely spoke. He fooled around on the internet and watched MSNBC and CNN, particularly the financial pundits.

  Being in his office last night had unsettled him. The room had been cold and clinically clean, as if the last occupant had died and the desk was awaiting a new owner.

  Somehow he’d thought he might get some kind of revelation about his life if he could stand where he’d once stood. As though in the very air itself he would be able to make sense of it all.

  If he had gone straight home from the restaurant, he and Phoebe would no doubt have spent the night in bed dreaming up one way after another to lose themselves in pleasure.

  Instead, his impulsive action had ruined everything.

  He didn’t blame her for being upset. But if he had it to do over again, he still wouldn’t have told her about his heart attack. It wasn’t the kind of news a man shared with the woman he wanted to impress.

  And there it was. He wanted to impress Phoebe. With his intellect, his entrepreneurial success, his life in general. As if by comparison she could and would see that her hermitlike retreat was not valid. That she was the one with lessons to learn.

  As he remembered his brief time in Phoebe’s magical mountain home, suddenly, everything clicked into focus. The reason his office had seemed sterile and empty last night was not because Leo had been gone for several weeks. The odd feelings he had experienced were a reluctant recognition of the difference between his work domain and the warm, cheerful home Phoebe had created.

  In the midst of her pain and heartbreak, she hadn’t become a bitter, angry woman. Instead, she had stretched her wings. She’d had the courage to step out in faith, trusting that she would find the answers she needed. Her solitude and new way of life had taught her valuable lessons about what was important. And she’d been willing to share her wisdom with Leo. But he had been too arrogant to accept that her experience could in any way shed light on his own life.

  What a jackass he had been. He had lied to her by omission and all along had been patronizing about her simple existence. Instead of protecting his macho pride, he should have been begging her to help him make a new start.

  He needed to find balance in his life. His brother, Luc, had managed that feat. Surely Leo could follow his example. And even beyond that, Leo needed Phoebe. More than he could ever have thought possible. But by his selfish actions, he had lost her. Perhaps forever. It would take every ounce of genius he possessed to win back her trust.

  The magnitude of his failure was humbling. But as long as there was life, there was hope.

  * * *

  At his request, she consented to stay for the party. He knew she had booked a flight home for the following morning, because he had eavesdropped unashamedly at her door while she made the reservation.

  When she appeared in the foyer at a quarter ’til seven that evening, his heart stopped. But this time he recognized the interruption. A lightning bolt of passion or lust or maybe nothing more complicated than need shattered his composure.

  She wore a dress that many women would avoid for fear they couldn’t carry it off. The fabric was red. An intense crimson that spoke for itself. And Phoebe hadn’t been teasing when she described it. Cut low in the back and the front and high on the leg, it fit her as if it had been created with exactly her body in mind.

  Stiletto heels in matte black leather put her almost on eye level with him. As equals.

  Her hair was stunning. She had braided two tiny sections from the front and wound them at her crown. The rest cascaded in a sleek fall halfway down her back. On her right upper arm she wore a three-inch wide hammered silver band. Matching earrings dangled and caught the light.

  He cleared his throat. “You look sensational.”

  “Thank you.” Her expression was as remote as the Egyptian queen she resembled.

  He had hoped tonight to strengthen the connection between them by showing her a slice of his life. His family. His employees. The way the company was built on trust and integrity. But now there was this chasm between Phoebe and him.

  He hated the emotional distance, but he would use their physical attraction to fight back, to get through to her, if he had to. She had accused him of not taking his recovery seriously, but by God, he was serious now. His future hung in the balance. Everything he had worked for up until this point was rendered valueless. Without Phoebe’s love and trust, he had nothing.

  * * *

  Fortunately his
brother’s home was close…on West Paces Ferry Road, an old and elegant established neighborhood for Atlanta’s wealthy and powerful. But Luc and Hattie had made their home warm and welcoming amidst its elegant personality, a place where children could run and play, though little Luc Jr. was still too small for that.

  Leo handed the keys of his Jag to the attendant and helped Phoebe out of the car. The college kid’s eyes glazed over as he caught a glimpse of Phoebe’s long, toned legs. Glaring at the boy, Leo wrapped her faux fur stole around her shoulders and ushered her toward the house.

  Every tree and bush on the property had been trimmed in tiny white lights. Fragrant greenery festooned with gold bows wrapped lampposts and wrought-iron porch rails.

  Phoebe paused on the steps, taking it all in. “I love this place,” she said simply. “It feels like a classy Southern lady.”

  “Luc and Hattie will probably be at the door greeting their guests, but perhaps we can sit down with them later and catch up.” The timing was off. Phoebe was leaving in the morning, and their relationship was dead in the water, but he still wanted her to meet his brother.

  * * *

  As it turned out, Leo was correct. His dashing brother took one look at Leo and wrestled him into a long bear hug that brought tears to Phoebe’s eyes. Leo’s sister-in-law wore the very same expression as she watched the two men embrace. Both brothers wore classic formal attire, and in their tuxes, they were incredibly dashing, almost like old film stars with their chiseled features.

  Luc shook Phoebe’s hand as they were introduced. “I wasn’t sure Leo was going to come back for the holidays, or even if he should. I’m happy to see he has such a lovely woman looking after him.”

  Leo’s jaw tightened, though his smile remained. “Phoebe’s my date, not my nurse.”

  Phoebe saw from Luc’s abashed expression that he knew he had stepped in it. Hattie whispered something in his ear, and he nodded.