Ordinary Girl, Millionaire Tycoon. Darlene Gardner

one she’d picked up at a store that sold used games. So far, Joey wasn’t savvy enough about what was available to clamor for new ones.

      She watched her son clamber into the car, then turned to Tony. She didn’t want to say goodbye. The weekend stretched ahead of her: long, empty and filled with worry. But she’d been taking care of herself and Joey for a long time. She could manage. She pasted on a smile.

      “Thank you again for your help.” Her feet felt glued to the sidewalk, but she managed to start to turn away.

      “Wait.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. His touch was gentle, certainly not firm enough to stop her, but she froze. Warmth spread under her knit sweater in the spot where his hand rested.

      She gazed up at him. A cloud that had momentarily blotted out the sun drifted lazily along with the wind and cast him in a shaft of light, making him look so virile she caught her breath.

      It was nearly five o’clock, and the proverbial shadow darkened his jaw. She had the insane urge to rub her cheek against the stubble, to touch his slightly fuller lower lip with her fingertips to see if it was as soft as it looked.

      Because she wore a pair of clunky black dress shoes, there was no more than two or three inches difference in their heights.

      If he lowered his head, or she raised hers, their lips would meet. Their eyes locked. His were a light brown that reminded her of caramel. If he tried to kiss her, she’d let him. He exhaled, and she felt his breath warm against her mouth. Her breath snagged in her lungs.

      “Have dinner with me this weekend,” he urged.

      She didn’t have to think about her answer. “Yes.”

      His lips curved, and his mouth, with that sensuous lower lip, moved closer.

      The horn of her car blared. She jumped, banging her forehead against his nose.

      “Ow,” he said, his hand going to the offended body part.

      “Sorry,” she said, rubbing her forehead.

      They both turned toward the sound. Joey sat at the steering wheel, a playful grin on his face. She waved an admonishing, unsteady finger at him. He crawled into the passenger’s seat and pressed his face flush against the window so his features looked distorted.

      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