From Playboy to Papa! / Tempting the Texas Tycoon: From Playboy to Papa! / Tempting the Texas Tycoon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author

LEANNE BANKS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author who is surprised every time she realizes how many books she has written. Leanne loves chocolate, the beach and new adventures. To name a few, Leanne has ridden on an elephant, stood on an ostrich egg (no, it didn’t break), gone parasailing and indoor skydiving. Leanne loves writing romance because she believes in the power and magic of love. She lives in Virginia with her family and her four-and-a-half-pound Pomeranian named Bijou. Visit her website at www. leannebanks.com.

“My son is going to live under my roof. You can either help or get out of the way.”

“How am I supposed to make all these arrangements? Get everything packed?”

“Don’t worry about packing. I can pay for everything you and Joel could need or want.”

Nicole shook her head. “You just don’t understand. Security doesn’t always come from money and things. It comes from people and familiarity.”

“I’ll be that person for Joel. My home will become that place for him, too.” He paused three heartbeats. “Are you coming or not?”

“You’ve given me no choice.”

“You’re valuable to my son. I’ll make sure you’re well rewarded financially.”

“I don’t want your money,” she told him.

Rafe shrugged. “My private jet will take us to Miami. Be ready.”

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 website, www.leannebanks.com.

All the best,

Leanne Banks

This book is dedicated to my Italian trip cohorts in adventure and calamity, Tony, Ann and Ray, Terri and David. Catching a train was never so traumatic. Thank God for laughter, good friends, wine and chocolate gelato…

Prologue

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.”

One

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.

“My name is Nicole Livingstone. I’m Tabitha’s twin.”

She watched the man digest the news. Disbelief, then confusion crossed his face. “She never told me about a twin.”

Nicole’s uneasy laugh stuck in her throat. “She liked to keep it a surprise, so if she ever needed to refer to her evil twin…”

“Hmm,” he said, his brow furrowing. He rubbed his chin. “Where is she?”

Nicole bit her lip. A stab of pain took her by surprise. Just when she thought she’d adjusted to the loss of her sister, she found out she hadn’t. “She died three years ago.”

His eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t know.”

She nodded. “She got a terrible infection and the doctors couldn’t help her. People thought she was so headstrong that she could survive anything. It was a huge shock to us.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, but she saw a hardness in his eyes. He extended his hand to her.

She took it and was immediately struck by his warmth and strength. His hand felt good around hers. “Thank you. And you are?”

“Rafe,” he said. “Rafe Medici.”

The world seemed to tilt sideways. Her heart hammered in her chest as if someone had set off a fire alarm inside her. It took a moment for her to remove her hand from his.

She needed to get away from him. As fast as she possibly could. She took a deep breath and stepped backward. “Thank you again. Good-bye.”

She started to walk around him, but he brushed her arm with his hand. Biting the inside of her lip, she paused and looked at the space between his eyes instead of meeting his gaze.

“In the newspaper, I saw a photograph of you with a child. Was he Tabitha’s?”

“He’s mine,” she said, feeling her blood rush to her head. “Joel is mine.”

“Did Tabitha have a child before she died?”

“Joel is mine. I need to go,” she said and walked down the sidewalk to her Camry Hybrid parked in the lot. Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she unlocked the door and slid inside. She started to close the door, but Rafe Medici appeared beside her and caught it.

“Mr. Medici,” she said, terror whipping through her.

“My father died when I was very young. It was a terrible loss. I would not want that for a son of mine.”

The humanity in the man’s expression caught her off guard. Her sister had described him as possessing a monster ego. Nicole shot a look at the large hand that prevented her departure. “Please step away from my vehicle. I need to leave,” she managed in a voice she’d developed to freeze out arguments with uncooperative healthcare agencies.

She felt his assessing gaze as he slowly moved his hand. Not easily intimidated. Why should she be surprised? He stood over a half foot taller than her and with those wide shoulders and well-developed muscles she’d glimpsed as his jacket swung open, he could probably bench press three of her.

“Later,” he said.

Nicole pulled her door shut and peeled out of the parking lot. Later. She certainly hoped not.

Now that Joel was ready to turn four, she’d thought they were in the clear. After all, there’d been no sign of Rafe Medici at her sister’s funeral. No flowers. Nothing. Droplets of cold sweat forming on her skin, she exited on to the interstate, her mind whirling.

Nicole maintained a low profile. It had been easy for her. Tabitha had been the flashy one, and that had been fine with Nicole. Now, after all this time, she’d taken Joel to meet one of her patient clients to see his dinosaur model collection. A reporter writing stories about disabled veterans had surprised them and captured the three of them in a photograph, which had been published in the newspaper. Of all the dumb luck.

Clenching her fingers over the steering wheel, she wondered if she should take Joel and leave immediately. He was a shy little guy, though, and seemed to be flourishing in his pre-school class.

She remembered the look of determination on Rafe’s face and shuddered. She considered her options. Her mother lived on the other side of the world—France, in fact. Nicole and Joel could disappear there, at least for a while. Her mother, however, led an active social life and having a preschooler around would cramp her style.

Tabitha would have turned to their father and performed a butter-him-up act worthy of an Oscar in order to get money from him. Nicole limited her involvement with her father as much as possible. After what he had done…

She took a deep breath to calm herself. She’d always been told she was the practical twin. Something would come to her. No matter what, she would protect Joel at all costs.

She was lying, Rafe thought as he watched her tear out of the parking lot. He felt a tingling sensation in his left hand that had served as a warning throughout his life. The woman would be trouble. Perhaps more trouble than Tabitha had been. If that were possible.

Tabitha had acted as if she’d enjoyed living with him, but soon enough he’d learned that all she wanted from him was his money. To this day, he didn’t understand her greed. After all, her father was very wealthy. He remembered the way she’d begged him to let her sell a few of his yachts. He’d indulged her, secretly enjoying the fact that he was one-upping the mighty Conrad Livingstone via the man’s daughter. The joke had backfired, though. She’d lied to him in order to pad her commission then tried to seduce one of his customers, a Spanish prince. Unsuccessfully.

Narrowing his eyes as the wind whipped around him, he walked toward his rental car. It shouldn’t be difficult to find out the truth about Tabitha, Nicole and Joel.

Sliding into the car, he started the engine then dialed his brother.

“Hey, Rafe. What’s up?” his brother Michael asked.

“I need the name of a good P.I. who is thorough, fast and discreet,” he said.

“Okay. This wouldn’t have anything to do with your bad mood last night, would it?”

“Maybe,” Rafe said.

“Does this mean you’ll be staying an extra night at my place?”

“Yeah, unless it’s a problem,” Rafe said.

“No, but I’ll be gone most of the time. I just found a new business that I can buy cheap. You want to tell me what all this is about?” Michael asked.

“After I find out. Text me the phone number,” Rafe said grimly. He wanted answers and he would get them.

After he received an initial report from his P.I., Rafe met with an attorney. “How much can Nicole Livingstone fight me for custody?”

The attorney shook his head. “She can fight, but unless she can prove you’re an unfit parent, then she won’t win. All you need is a paternity test that proves you’re the boy’s father. It’s easy enough to get a court order for that.”

Rafe thought about the years he’d been cheated from knowing his son, all because of the Livingstones. Bitterness surged through him. “These people have deceived me in the worst way. I want to take Joel away as soon as possible.”

The attorney lifted his hand. “Not so fast.”

“Why not?” Rafe demanded. “You just told me I can get custody without a problem.”

“True,” the man said. “But you have to remember the well-being of your son. Do you really want to rip him away from the one person he’s known since birth? From all appearances, Nicole Livingstone has taken excellent care of Joel. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” he said grudgingly.

“Legally, you may have the right to take him away so that he never sees Nicole again, but you need to consider what’s best for Joel. How is he going to feel about being taken away from the woman he knows as his mother?”

Rafe felt a gut-wrenching twist at the thought. He had been through a very similar experience—losing his parents and his family when he was a child, although not so young. The traumatic event had left him feeling lost for years. Despite his grudge against the Livingstones, he had to concede that Nicole Livingstone had been a loving mother to Joel.

She seemed different from Tabitha, but it was too soon for him to be sure. He found it difficult to believe that she could be so different from Tabitha and their father, especially since she hadn’t bothered to inform Rafe about Joel.

Another surge of bitterness burned through him. He was in a position to pull off the ultimate revenge with the Livingstones. He could take Joel away and they would never see him again. Ultimate revenge was a gratifying prospect, but selfish. He had a son to think about now. The knowledge blew him away every time he thought of it.

Nicole could be useful. An image of her slid across his mind. She certainly wasn’t his usual type. She wasn’t the least bit flashy and kept her sensuality under wraps. Something about the woman made him curious in a sexual way. He suspected that when she let loose, she could be explosive. It would take the right man to light her fuse. In other circumstances, he would give in to his curiosity, but something far more important was at stake at the moment. His son.

The following evening, after dinner and a bath for Joel, Nicole helped her nephew into his footed pajamas and sat beside him in his little bed. “Which book do you want me to read tonight?” she asked.

Her heart squeezed tight as he lifted four books with a hopeful expression on his sweet face. He may be her nephew by blood, but in her heart, he was her son. And she’d made sure of that through the courts.

“Four?” she said. “I thought I was just going to read two tonight.”

“But I like all of these,” he said, looking at the books. The job of narrowing down his choices clearly put him at a loss.

She sighed. “Okay, but just this once,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold the line when he asked her tomorrow night. She suspected she enjoyed these precious moments with him even more than he did.

He plopped into her lap and opened the first book about a giant strawberry and the mouse who wanted to eat it.

In the back of her mind, she wondered whether she would hear anything else from Rafe Medici. Encouraged that he hadn’t contacted her last night or today, she relaxed just a smidgeon. His intensity had frightened her so much that she’d almost given in to her fear and taken Joel out of the country.

Since Tabitha had died when he was just six months old, Joel viewed Nicole as his mother. He turned to her when he was sick or hurt. He chattered with her, smiled and laughed, and lifted his arms for hugs.

The strong attachment claimed Nicole the day he was born. The delivery had been difficult and Tabitha had wanted her sister by her side. Tabitha developed an infection in the hospital and the next six months had been a roller-coaster ride for everyone involved. Nicole had taken extra time off from work to care for both Tabitha and Joel.

Tabitha had grown impatient with her doctor’s warnings and often hadn’t taken her medicine properly. She’d insisted on going out partying at night while Nicole cared for Joel.

One night she’d collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. The infection had taken over her body and she’d died within a week.

Devastated and in shock, Nicole had secured legal custody of Joel per Tabitha’s instructions. Although her father had invited her and Joel to live with him, she’d turned him down. Nicole refused to subject Joel to her father’s unpredictable temper.

The threat of Rafe Medici continued to buzz in the back of her mind like a fly bouncing against a window, but Nicole cuddled Joel against her and read the second book, and the third. Halfway through the fourth story, Joel’s little body sagged against her, his chest rising and falling in slow even breaths.

Nicole smiled. He’d fallen asleep. She gently shifted him off of her, and he burrowed into his covers, but his eyes remained closed. She kissed his forehead and turned out the dinosaur lamp beside his bed and left his room.

Returning to her den, silence settled around her like a cloak. In the beginning, after Tabitha had just died, she’d had to talk herself down from panic at the enormous job she faced of raising her sister’s child. Was she up for it? There was no choice, she’d realized. She would have to muddle through.

After teething, chicken pox and potty training, she didn’t question herself as much. Joel was a happy, healthy little boy.

Now the silence just underlined the fact that she was alone. She used her remote to turn her sound system on low volume and skipped through the selections until she landed on a collection of mindless, but cheerful pop music. As she sipped the glass of water she’d left by the couch, habit made her reach for unfinished paperwork for her job.

After Joel went to bed at night, Nicole was aware of how alone she truly was. Her mother lived on the other side of the world. She couldn’t trust her father.

Thank goodness for her cousin Julia. Julia frequently scolded her to go out more often, but Nicole found it difficult to leave Joel in the evenings. As for a man, well, Tabitha had been the natural man magnet. The man Nicole had been seeing just before Tabitha died hadn’t been interested in taking on a ready-made family. When the time was right, maybe a man would come into her life. An average man who wasn’t an egomaniac or obsessed with success. Someday perhaps, but not today.

She forced her attention to her work to distract herself. A half hour passed, and a knock sounded at her front door. She noticed the time, 8:30 p.m. and cautiously rose. Glancing through the peephole, Nicole felt her stomach clench. Her worst nightmare was standing on her front porch.

Two

Nicole considered not opening the door, but she didn’t want Rafe Medici to continue ringing her doorbell, perhaps awakening Joel. Taking a quick shallow breath, she whisked the door open and met his gaze in silence, mentally girding herself for the battle she knew she faced.

“Joel is my son,” he said in a rock-hard voice.

“Joel is mine, legally and in every other way that counts,” she immediately responded. Keeping her voice cool wasn’t difficult since her blood felt like ice.

“Tabitha was his mother,” he said, his lips moving in a bitter smile. “I’m not surprised she didn’t want me to know since she felt I was good enough for playing, but not for staying.”