Some Girls Do Read online

  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.

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  First eBook Edition: November 2008

  ISBN: 978-0-446-54835-9

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  A Preview of "When She’s Bad"

  “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.

  Acknowledgements

  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”

  —SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM

  Prologue

  Her 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.”

  —SUNNY COLLIN'S WISDOM

  Chapter 1

  Ivan 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.”

  “Special project?” Michael tossed Ivan a cautious sideways glance as he leaned forward to offer his hand to Katie. He flicked his dark gaze over her and she felt his instant assessment and brief flicker of curiosity.

  She had the uncomfortable sense that this man might see more than she would like. Katie gave his strong hand a brief squeeze. “Mr. Wingate,” she murmured.

  “Miss Collins,” he said, and turned back to Ivan. “You mentioned a special project, sir.”

  Ivan lifted his chin and gave a nod. “Yes, I told you I have an interesting business proposition for you.”

  “But you wouldn't elaborate when I asked,” Michael said in a silky smooth voice.

  Ivan smiled coyly. “I like your drive, boy.”

  Katie's stomach twisted. Someone got the shaft when ever Ivan was coy. She prayed it wouldn't be her. She looked at the broad-shouldered back of Michael Wingate and had a niggling suspicion that this was not a man who liked to play.

  She noticed Michael remained silent. A negotiation strategy, she suspected, having watched Ivan engage other men. He who speaks first loses, she'd once heard Ivan say.

  Ivan cleared his throat. “I have a family matter that requires your services. I'd like to see my daughter settled and married. While my wife and I are away on a cruise, my assistant Miss Collins, has agreed to help Wilhemina. I would like you to handle the security details.”

  Complete silence followed again, although this time, a hushed quality of shock filled the air. Unable to deny her curiosity, Katie surreptitiously took a half step forward so she could view Michael Wingate's face. He did not look pleased.

  “Mr. Rasmussen, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I no longer provide bodyguard services myself. Perhaps I could assign one of my employees to assist you. I was interested in providing a security program for your company.”

  “I know,” Ivan said. “But I've used the same security for three years. Except for some dated equipment they've done a decent job. If I'm going to change security companies, I've got to be sure you're going to do a better job than they do.”

  “I've shown you our employees’ resumes and you know our record is exemplary,” Michael said and Katie noticed the slightest twitch of impatience at the corner of his right eye.

  “But your other clients are small potatoes compared to Ivan Enterprises,” Ivan said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. He swaggered, as much as a short, portly man could swagger, over to his desk and withdrew a Cohiba. Esplendido cigar from the wooden humidor. He offered one to. Michael. “You and I both know that if you win my security contract, you'll be moving in a totally different league. If you want a shot at my company business, you have to prove you can take care of my family business.”

  One day, Michael Wingate promised himself as he accepted the cigar, he would be able to tell Ivan Rasmussen to stick his prized Cohiba Esplendido up his ass. Not now, though, he thought as he
watched Ivan make a show of trimming and lighting the cigar. As much as he hated the fact, the truth remained that Ivan Rasmussen not only offered Michael the opportunity to take his business to the next level, an association with the manipulative little bastard would give Michael the chance to gain back a measure of his respect That combination kept Michael from dropping his Cohiba onto the floor and grinding it into Ivan's antique oriental rug.

  Instead Michael drew no pleasure as he trimmed his cigar and puffed From the time he was a child, Michael had known the art of cigar smoking was a necessary evil among Philadelphia's elite. Since he'd become an adult he'd learned the size of the cigar correlated with the wannabe dick size of the smoker.

  Ivan wore a thoughtful, cagey expression. The man knew he held all the trump cards. Michael fought the sensation of chains closing around him. He could take this or leave it, he told himself. He could walk out of here. But Ivan's offer included too many benefits, none of which included working with his strange assistant Michael wouldn't be worth a nickel as a security specialist if he hadn't learned how to assess a person in sixty seconds or less. With the exception of her killer legs, the woman was so plain Michael wondered if she had gotten an un-makeover. Her drab shapeless dress, unflattering hairstyle, and glasses made her look older than she was. He wondered why she wanted to look older. There was always a reason. In his profession, he'd learned everyone had secrets. He wondered what secret the deliberately painfully plain Miss Collins hid. Her unlined skin and watchful blue eyes gave her youth away. He could feel her watching him even now. He pegged her age at twenty-six, her sexual appeal, intentionally zip. For a sliver of a second he wondered if she was one of those women who dressed like plain-Jane, but made love like a man's favorite bad-girl fantasy. He pushed the thought aside.

  “What are the terms?” Michael asked, returning his attention to the more important matter at hand.

  Ivan smiled broadly. “I knew you would be interested. You're hungry,” he said. “I like that It's a piece of cake. Miss Collins will provide prospective candidates for my daughter to marry. You will thoroughly screen them. No ex- convicts, no freeloaders, no disease carriers, and no red- necks. I can't accept a redneck for a son-in-law. And you're to provide protection for Wilhemina and my home in my absence.”