A Billionaire for Christmas
All business, all the time, is billionaire Leo Cavallo’s motto. So two months of forced relaxation is certainly not the CEO’s idea of a Christmas bonus. Then he meets his neighbour, the irresistible Phoebe Kemper, and a storm forces them to become roommates.Suddenly, the holidays are looking a whole lot brighter. But beautiful Phoebe isn’t living alone. She’s babysitting her infant nephew. Somehow, playing temporary family is surprisingly appealing.But what will Leo choose when it’s time to go home?
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Leo was aware that some people called him hard ⦠Unfeeling.
But he did what he did knowing how many employees around the world depended on the Cavallos for their livelihoods. It irked the hell out of him to think that another man was temporarily sitting in his metaphorical chair.
How was he going to survive being back-burnered for two months? Did he even want to try becoming the man his family thought he could be? A balanced, laid-back, easygoing guy?
He rested his free arm across the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, reaching for something Zen. Something peaceful.
Damn it, he didnât want to change. He wanted to go home.
At least, he had until he met Phoebe. Now she was what he wanted.
* * *
A Billionaire for Christmas is part of the No.1 bestselling miniseries from Desire>â¢: Billionaires and Babies:
Powerful men â¦
wrapped around their babiesâ little fingers.
JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Mills & Boon>® familyâa lifelong dream, by the way!
Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.
Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, or email her at [email protected]. And of course, donât forget Facebook and Twitter. Visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.
For my mother, Pat Scott, who loved Christmas as much as anyone I have ever known.
Contents
One
Leo Cavallo had a headache. In fact, his whole body hurt. The drive from Atlanta to the Great Smoky Mountains in East Tennessee hadnât seemed all that onerous on the map, but heâd gravely miscalculated the reality of negotiating winding rural roads after dark. And given that the calendar had flipped only a handful of days into December, heâd lost daylight a long time ago.
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and groaned as he registered the glowing readout. It was after nine. He still had no idea if he was even close to his destination. The GPS had given up on him ten miles back. The car thermometer read thirty-five degrees, which meant that any moment now the driving rain hammering his windshield might change over to snow, and heâd really be screwed. Jags were not meant to be driven in bad weather.
Sweating beneath his thin cotton sweater, he reached into the console for an antacid. Without warning, his brotherâs voice popped into his head, loud and clear.
âIâm serious, Leo. You have to make some changes. You had a heart attack, for Godâs sake.â
Leo scowled. âA mild cardiac event. Donât be so dramatic. Iâm in excellent physical shape. You heard the doctor.â
âYes, I did. He said your stress levels are off the charts. And he preached heredity. Our father died before he hit forty-two. You keep this up, and Iâll be putting you in the ground right beside him...â
Leo chewed the chalky tablet and cursed when the road suddenly changed from ragged pavement to loose gravel. The wheels of his vehicle spun for purchase on the uneven surface. He crept along, straining his eyes for any signs of life up ahead.
On either side, steep hillsides boxed him in. The headlights on his car picked out dense thickets of rhododendron lining the way. Claustrophobic gloom swathed the vehicle in a cloying blanket. He was accustomed to living amidst the bright lights of Atlanta. His penthouse condo offered an amazing view of the city. Neon and energy and people were his daily fuel. So why had he agreed to voluntary exile in a state whose remote corners seemed unwelcoming at best?
Five minutes later, when he was almost ready to turn around and admit defeat, he saw a light shining in the darkness. The relief he felt was staggering. By the time he finally pulled up in front of the blessedly illuminated house, every muscle in his body ached with tension. He hoped the porch light indicated some level of available hospitality.
Pulling his plush-lined leather jacket from the backseat, he stepped out of the car and shivered. The rain had slacked off...finally. But a heavy, fog-wrapped drizzle accompanied by bone-numbing chill greeted him. For the moment, he would leave his bags in the trunk. He didnât know exactly where his cabin was located. Hopefully, heâd be able to park closer before he unloaded.
