From Playboy to Papa!

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.