Some Girls Do
Copyright © 2003 by Leanne Banks
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Cover design and art by Shasti O'Leary Soudant
Warner Books, Inc.
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First eBook Edition: November 2008
ISBN: 978-0-446-54835-9
Contents
“Every girl from 18 to 80 will love SOME GIRLS DO! The best feel-good book you'll read this year!”
—JANET EVANOVICH
KATIE COLLINS NEEDS TO LISTEN TO HER MAMA'S WISDOM:
1. Love makes us do amazing, wonderful things…and really stupid things too.
2. A little restraint is fine…as long as you don't overdo it.
3. The most important thing you can do in life is to be your best you.
4. Don't waste time on a man unless his kiss makes you forget your name!
5. I'd rather be brave enough to do something worthy of wild gossip than be so afraid of others’ disapproval that I do nothing at all.
MAYBE THEN SHE'LL REALIZE THAT SOME GIRLS DO
“SOME GIRLS DO…and some girls do it better. Leanne Banks pens a winner. Sexy and laugh-out-loud fun!”
—
Kasey Michaels, author of
The Kissing Game
“A master of love and laughter, Ms. Banks delights both heart and soul.”
—
Romantic Times
“Leanne Banks is clearly a master.”
—
Romance Reader
This book is dedicated to all of you who say to me, “Yes, Leanne, you can do it.” You know who you are.
I have been blessed with assistance and encouragement during the writing of this book and would like to thank the following people: Karen Solem and Karen Kosztolnyik, my two champions, thank you for helping to make this happen. Thank you to romantic suspense author Karen Rose for technical assistance, Binne Syril Braunstein, and longtime friends and colleagues Millie Criswell and Donna Kauffman for creative assistance. For professional and personal encouragement, heartfelt thanks to Cindy Gerard, Pamela Britton, Janet Evanovich, Joan Johnston, the Silhouette Desire loop. For real-world perspective, I don't know what I would do without the ladies-night-out group, my phantom general consultant, and my parents and family. To all of you, I'm humbled by your generosity and belief in me.
“
A little restraint is fine.…as long as you don't, overdo it
”
—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM
H
er objective was plain, reassuring, and sexless.
Katie Collins ought to know. She achieved her objective every day before she took the train from Media, Pennsylvania, to Society Hill in the heart of Philadelphia's historic district. Everything hinged on her ability to be nearly invisible. She pulled her dark blond hair into a dated twist that immediately aged her five years past her twenty-five. She always knew she got the twist at its most unappealing because it felt too tight, like an unwanted halo. Skipping cosmetics, she pushed her arms into the sleeves of her shapeless gray jacket and glanced approvingly into the mirror at the immediate effect of the drab color. She almost seemed to disappear.
She looked like a sexless spinster with no life to call her own, certainly no threat to the sixth wife of a semiretired CEO who could have been a poster boy for Viagra. Katie was the perfect personal assistant for Ivan Rasmussen, aka Ivan the terrible, founder of the top computer software games company in America.
Sliding the black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose to hide the baby blue eyes she'd inherited from her mother, Katie felt a twinge of longing for a taste of a life of her own and squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling. She'd had blips of those kinds of feelings more often lately and they always scared her. Those feelings reminded her of her infamous mother Sunny Collins. It was more important than ever that she not follow in her mother's footsteps. Sometimes, she could even hear her mother's voice offering advice from the hereafter, but she always tried to shut it out.
Katie had a job to do, and everything depended on her keeping her nose to the grindstone. Excitement wasn't part of the equation. Neither was romance. When her mother had been alive, she had taken enough lovers for ten women, so Katie just figured she was one of those ten who would go without.
Years ago, her name might have been Priscilla Sue. Collins, and she might have been from Texas with a mother rightly labeled the town slut, but she'd left all that behind. Her Texas accent her unfinished high school education, memories of her mother making peanut butter sandwiches with M&M's, and her youth, although Katie couldn't remember a time when she'd felt young.
She'd left everything belonging to Priscilla back in Texas. Except one thing. And that one thing was the reason Katie Collins rose every morning and disappeared behind a gray jacket and black-framed glasses.
“
Every once in a while, you meet a man worth the trouble he's going to cause you.
”
—S
UNNY
C
OLLIN'S WISDOM
I
van Rasmussen looked at his world as if he were the Almighty himself. Katie supposed that in Ivan's creation story, he looked at his hugely successful company and like me Almighty, saw that it was good. He looked at his grand house in exclusive Society Hill and saw that it was good. He looked at his most recently acquired wife, who was able to trace her ancestry back to the
Mayflower,
and saw that she was good.
But when Ivan looked at his youngest daughter, Wilhemina, he saw that she was not so good. She was a mess. Wilhemina bore the influence of every woman who'd passed through her life from her now-deceased Las Vegas showgirl mother to the Slovakian housekeeper who'd once sneaked cookies to her. Unfortunately Wilhemina had inherited her looks from her portly father, Ivan. All her personal stylists had quit, and although Wilhemina was eager to do charity work, no one really trusted her to complete an assignment.
Staring at a recent photograph of Wilhemina, Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood beside the full-length window of his home office furnished in leather and aged oak. “Patricia and I are finally taking a cruise to Europe,” he said. “We'll be gone for six weeks.”
Katie's palms grew moist. She prayed he wasn't going to release her. “Congratulations,” she said, fighting her nerves. “You and Mrs. Rasmussen will enjoy the time together.”
“Yes,” he said with a lack of enthusiasm. “There won't be much for you to do while I'm gone, so I'm giving you a temporary assignment. There's a possibility for a bonus in it for you too,” he said and glanced at her. “I want you to look after Wilhemina.”
Katie breathed again, slowly. Wilhemina was odd, but not impossible. “You want me to keep her personal calendar organized?”
He shoved one of his hands into the pocket of his Brooks Brothers wool slacks. “In a manner of speaking.” He stretched his sagging chin upward and nodded. “I want you to be her companion. When Wilhemina gets bored, she—” He sighed, “She eats.”
Katie nodded, aware of Wilhemina's diet struggles. “Oh, yes, sir.”
“It's no secret we've been hoping Wilhemina would find a nice young man to marry. Despite all our efforts, no one has been found.”
“I'm sorry, sir,” Katie said, unable to conjure another response. She knew Ivan had exhausted every possible means short of cosmetic surgery to find an approved husband for Wilhemina. He had employed high-class matchmakers and used on-line dating services with disastrous results. She heard he'd even consulted a love magic specialist in the French Quarter of New Orleans.
“You're a sensible woman, responsible, highly motivated, compassionate. How would you like a shot at it?”
Katie blinked. “A shot at what, sir?”
“At finding a husband for Wilhemina. The primary requirement is that the prospect will have to pass a security test.”
Katie's mind reeled. “You want me to find a husband for your daughter?” she asked, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice.
He lifted his chin again, stretching his neck against his crisp white collar in a gesture that indicated his supreme discomfort. “I realize it's a long shot, but I'll make it worth your while if you can do it.”
“How does Wilhemina feel about this idea?”
He shrugged. “I haven't told her, but she won't mind. She wants to get married.”
“I don't know what to say,” Katie said.
“Katie, you've met my daughter. She needs to be guided and protected. I'm not getting any younger and I want the peace of mind that she'll be taken care of after I'm gone. God knows, I can't count on Patricia.”
Katie swallowed a wince. She knew Patricia regarded Wilhemina as the proverbial millstone around Ivan's neck. “Why me?”
“Because you'll view it as a job, as a challenge.”
That sounded like a load of malarkey.
“And there's the bonus,” Ivan said with the same gleam in his eye that she suspected the serpent had worn when he was tempting Eve.
“Which is?” she prompted.
“Fifty thousand dollars,” he said, and watched her with a cagey expression on his face.
Katie didn't breathe for a full moment. When she finally did squeeze in a millimeter of oxygen, she couldn't have formed words if her life depended on it.
“Okay, to hell with it A hundred thousand dollars if you can find a husband for Willie who meets the approval of my security specialist.”
A hundred thousand dollars
. Katie's world spun on its axis. A hundred thousand dollars could change her life. It could change her brother Jeremy's life. Katie was bound and determined to make sure he received the special help he needed. She took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You will give me a bonus of one hundred thousand dollars if I am able to find a husband for your daughter. This husband must meet the approval of your security specialist.”
Ivan nodded crisply and extended his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“I'd like the agreement in writing,” Katie said, fully aware that she was negotiating with Ivan the terrible, one of the craftiest men in America. “Expenses in addition to the hundred thousand must be covered, and they will be nonrefundable. I also want the guarantee of my current position if I can't—”
“Never say can't” he said, wagging his finger at her. “Can't is a four-letter word.”
“Regardless of the outcome of this endeavor,” she said, slowly searching for acceptable words, “I want a guarantee that I will retain my current position.”
“Of course,” he said, looking as if he was certain he'd gotten the better end of the deal. He extended his hand again, but a knock sounded at the door.
“I'll get that,” Katie said, quickly stepping past him.
Ivan stuck his arm in front of her, blocking hen. “It's Wingate. I've been waiting for him,” he said, surprising Katie with his eager bolt to the door. Ivan opened the door, again wearing his shark smile. “Michael, my boy,” he said in a hearty voice. “Come in, come in.”
Michael was not a boy, Katie immediately concluded as she watched the tall, dark man slowly stride into Ivan's office. He wore his dark suit far better than Ivan wore his. His leather shoes gleamed from a scrupulous buffing. His red silk tie contrasted with his crisp white shirt.
Katie scrutinized him. His square jaw was perfectly shaven, his mouth held just a hint of sensual curve. High cheekbones framed a roman nose. His eyes were cool, dark, and observant and his short hair meticulously groomed. Katie wondered if he was a marriage candidate for Wilhemina. If so, Katie suspected the poor girl would have her hands full trying to keep this man under control.
“It's good to see you again, Mr. Rasmussen. I'm glad you called,” Michael said smoothly accepting Ivan's pumping handshake.
“Call me Ivan. Michael Wingate, this is my personal assistant Katie Collins. The two of you will be coordinating a special project together.”
