The Salvatore Brothers Books 1 -3

• Secret Babies
• Marriages of Convenience
• Workplace Romance

The Salvatore Brothers will charm, tempt, seduce … or even wed and bed. They’ll do whatever it takes to find their bride. And when they say whatever it takes, they mean absolutely anything!

HOW TO: Hide a Baby
He'll do anything to protect his nephew, even marry his assistant

HOW TO: Bare Your Bride
He married her in one night. Now he just has to get her to fall in love with him.

HOW TO: Ensnare Your Lover
She offers him a simple business proposal: Marriage. But he wants more. Far more.

“I have a very simple business proposition for you, Mr. Salvatore.” Penelope Wentworth made herself comfortable in the chair across from her chosen target and adjusted a pair of practical wire-rimmed glasses before fixing Dante with her most determined gaze. It could be quite determined, too, considering she’d been using it to great effect since the tender age of ten. “I want you to marry me.”

If she’d startled him, he didn’t show it by so much as a flicker of expression. Instead, he kept his dark brown eyes trained on her as though she were a unique specimen he’d never seen before. She was used to that, too, often finding herself on the receiving end of that type of look—also since the tender age of ten. The looks didn’t bother her. At least they hadn’t since she’d turned twelve and learned the adults in her world were far more intimidated by her than she was by them.

“Since when did marriage become a business proposition?” he asked.

She almost smiled at the casual way he asked the question, as though he were indulging idle curiosity. She might have believed him if it weren’t for the deadly stillness that seized him the instant she’d popped her question.

“Marriage is always a business proposition. Most people cover up that fact by hiding behind an excess of emotion. A foolish indulgence, if you ask me.”

He surprised her with a quick, flashing smile and she forced herself to conceal her reaction with some difficulty. She should have given more credence to Kim’s claim about him, instead of dismissing it as the sort of feminine exaggeration women indulged in when attracted to a man. Kim hadn’t exaggerated. Not even a little.

It annoyed Penelope to discover all the research and computations she’d run on Dante Salvatore had failed to take into consideration the sheer presence of the man. Dear Lord, but it was quite a presence. “Bad, bad boy” struck her as all too apt.

He was extraordinarily good-looking, his features arranged in a way guaranteed to turn most women into total idiots. And yet, he still managed to retain an air of undeniable masculinity. His arching cheekbones tempted a woman’s touch, while an aggressive nose kept him from appearing too pretty. A bold, kissable mouth sat at odds with his square, authoritative—and no doubt, stubborn—jawline. Thick black hair tumbled across his brow above the most enticing earthy brown eyes she’d ever seen. Calm. Knowing. Focused. And sharply intelligent.

“I see. Thank you, Ms. . . . ?”

“Wentworth. Penelope Wentworth.”

A hint of amusement drifted through his gaze—a gaze almost as disconcerting as her own. “Thank you, Ms. Wentworth. But I’m not interested in marriage, whether it’s a business proposition, a romantic entanglement, or at the end of a shotgun.”

“I see,” she said with a brisk nod. “I assume that’s a direct result of your failed engagement and the unfortunate incident that preceded it.”

He surged to his feet and Penelope pressed her spine tight against the back of her chair. Oh, dear. Maybe she should have chosen a different angle. She’d clearly selected the wrong one with which to initiate negotiations.

He circled his desk with slow, deliberate strides, coming to halt directly beside her chair. When he reached for her, it took every ounce of self-possession not to flinch. Not that her well-practiced self-possession helped.
Grasping her arms, he yanked her from the chair and towed her toward the door to his office, her glasses bouncing on the tip of her nose with every step.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. My goodness! She sounded downright breathless. That had never happened before.

“I’m throwing you out of my office, Ms. Wentworth.”
“Would you mind telling me why?”

“I don’t mind in the least.” He wrapped a large hand around the knob and yanked open the door. “I don’t marry nutcases. Hell, Nellie. I don’t even talk to them.” With that, he propelled her from his office and slammed the door in her face.

Well! Penelope frowned at the solid oak door as she straightened her glasses. How rude. He hadn’t even listened to what she had to say. Not giving herself time to reconsider, she turned the knob and reentered the room. He must not have been accustomed to having people cross him. He’d returned to his desk and buried himself in his work. It wasn’t until she slammed the door that he looked up.

She caught her breath at the expression in his eyes. Why had she thought they were calm? They were the most volatile and impassioned she’d ever seen. Slowly he regained his feet, thrusting back his chair with such force, it crashed against the wall behind him, making the windows shimmer.

“What part of being thrown out don’t you understand?”
A trace of a lilting accent slipped into his words, adding a raw, elemental quality to his anger. She lifted her chin and poked her wire-rimmed glasses more firmly on the bridge of her nose. If he thought he could intimidate her, he’d have to work a lot harder than glaring and tossing chairs around and smoldering with overwrought testosterone. She’d faced endless business meetings with an endless assortment of testosterone-wrought males. She could handle one more. After all, it was simple emotion and simple emotion rarely withstood the overpowering force of cool, calculated logic.

Besides . . . She was determined.

“Mr. Salvatore, you haven’t bothered to hear my proposition.”

“And I don’t intend to.”

Italian. Definitely an Italian accent. Why did it have to be something so darned sexy? Not that she’d allow sex to sway her. Much.

“What if it involves Janus Corporation?” she asked, forcibly restricting her focus to the business at hand.

She’d gotten him with that one. He folded his impressive arms across an equally impressive chest. “Go on.”
Gesturing toward the chair, she offered her most engaging smile. “You were going to invite me to have a seat, I believe.”

The smile worked. It often did, perhaps because it appeared so wide and nonthreatening. Or perhaps because it was a bit lopsided. Whatever the appeal, a hint of amusement glittered in his eyes again.
Penelope had learned long ago to use whatever tools worked best in business. Sure, a woman should be logical in her dealings. But over the years, she’d learned a certain amount of plain friendliness didn’t hurt. It was personal involvement she fought to avoid. Because personal involvement led to illogical business decisions, something to avoid at all costs. She’d learned that lesson years ago and she didn’t intend to ever forget it.

Dante pointed a finger at the chair she’d vacated.

“Please. Sit,” he ordered in a tone that had her clamping her teeth together in silent protest.

A thousand inappropriate retorts tempted her, but she bit back every single one. Shooting off her mouth without thinking was one of her most serious failings, something she couldn’t afford to indulge at this particular juncture. Besides, the chair in front of his desk was precisely where she wanted to be, even if the invitation to occupy it had sounded suspiciously like a command.

Let’s be honest, she silently scolded. If she didn’t have a nasty tendency to take charge in any given situation, she wouldn’t have found his “request” quite so irritating. Determined to be gracious, she sat.

“You’re too kind,” she murmured, hoping he didn’t catch the dry tone.

If he did, he ignored it. “What’s your interest in Janus Corporation, and why would that tempt me into a marriage with you?”

“You certainly get right to the point, don’t you? I like that,” she approved. “None of that false charm you Salvatore men take such pride in.”

“You don’t find me charming?” he asked a bit too politely.

A trace of an accent rippled through his voice again, brushing her with the faint warmth of distant Mediterranean climes. It was a dead giveaway. It would seem, Mr. Salvatore possessed a temper that brought out the most elemental part of his personality. Penelope smiled, filing the information away for future reference. Perhaps she could make it work to her advantage at some point.

“No, I don’t find you the least charming,” she lied with aplomb.

Not that it would be a lie for long. She just needed a little time and effort to eradicate any such foolish inclination. Charm suggested a quality outside of business, and right now she didn’t have room in her life for anything that fell outside the realm of business.

“Excellent. I’ve recently discovered that charm is a mistake when it comes to women.”

She hesitated, considering that for a moment. Did he really mean all women, or just her? A surge of something uncomfortably soft and feminine stirred to life. What would happen if Dante changed his mind and concentrated the full force of his personality on her?
She caught a brief flash of his smile, a smile that would prove quite dangerous for a less sensible woman. His masculine good looks coupled with an equally masculine strength would also prove dangerous, and unlike anything she’d ever dealt with before. In the past, she’d always been prudent enough to keep all that male energy at a safe distance. How would she handle being married to it?

Darn it! It boiled down to sheer male presence again, which he must utilize as a deliberate ploy. Why else would she be experiencing these ridiculous impulses? She’d have to reconfigure her calculations to include that annoying element. Perhaps Dante Salvatore wasn’t her best choice, after all. He struck her as far too aggressive and entirely too independent. She doubted he’d take instruction well, particularly from a temporary wife.
Then the flaw in her reasoning dawned and she rewarded him with a broad, approving smile. He didn’t aim his comments at her. He truly did mean all women. It was an attitude, she suspected, brought on by his broken engagement—along with that rather unfortunate incident involving his fiancée’s family business. The combination of those two factors must have had a profound effect on him. Penelope kept a perfectly natural twinge of sympathy hidden, suspecting he wouldn’t appreciate it in the least.

“We’re back to that unmentionable topic, aren’t we?” she dared to ask.

“So it would seem.”

“Then charm is out.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

He nodded. “Which leaves business. Shall we get to it?”

“I assume my choices are to say ‘yes’ to that question or get ousted?” she hazarded a guess.

“Smart woman. Now who are you, what do you want, and what do you have to do with Janus Corporation?”

“I own it,” she explained simply.

“The company is owned by Crabbe and Associates.”

She grimaced. “Terrible name, isn’t it?”

“Dreadful.”

His sarcasm didn’t escape her notice and she released her breath in a long sigh. “All right, Mr. Salvatore. I won’t waste any more of your precious time, since I prefer to stay focused on the business at hand, as well. I am Crabbe and Associates, just as I am Janus Corporation. They all belong to me.”

“I assume you have some sort of proof.”

“I could provide it without too much difficulty.”

He took a moment to digest that. To her surprise, he didn’t shove the phone in her direction or insist on her handing over irrefutable evidence then and there. Instead, he concentrated his shrewd gaze on her for endless moments.

“How old are you?” he asked at last.

For some reason the question struck her as amusing. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m curious.”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Rather young to be in such a position of power.”

“Oh, I’m not in the main position of power. I just own the two companies. My uncle runs them.”

“And that annoys you? Do you feel you should be in charge?”

She stared blankly. “Feelings have nothing to do with my decision.” They’d gotten off track and she attempted to steer them back in the appropriate direction. “Mr. Salvatore—”

“Dante.”

She inclined her head. After all, if they were to be married, it would be ludicrous to insist on calling him by his last name. “Dante. Are you interested in purchasing Janus Corporation?”

“My family’s been trying to buy that company for years now. It would give Salvatores a lock on the West Coast market.”

“Well, I’m in a position to see that your family gets its wish.”

“And all it’s going to cost me is marriage to you?”

“Exactly.”