Any Rich Man Will Do: A Novel (Invincible Women Series, 2) - Softcover

Francis Ray is the New York Times bestselling author of the Grayson novels, the Falcon books, the Taggart Brothers, and Twice the Tempation, among many other romances. Her novel Incognito was made into a movie aired on BET. A native Texan, she is a graduate of Texas Woman's University and has a degree in nursing. Besides a writer, she is a school nurse practitioner with the Dallas Independent School District. She lives in Dallas.

Chapter One
Jana Franklin was out of luck and running out of time. She’d always believed she had more than her share of both. She’d been wrong. She had less than ninety-seven cents in her evening clutch and if she didn’t come up with the rent for her motel room tonight she’d be out in the streets tomorrow.

What she needed was what she’d always used—an accommodating and generous man. She’d crashed a charity gala in a three-story Georgian mansion in the most exclusive area of Dallas to find one. But this time desperation, not greed or the allure of being in control, drove her.

Even as the frightening thought materialized, Jana fought to deny it. Desperation was not a word she had ever associated with herself. Why should she? She’d lived a privileged life and was accustomed to having whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and she’d always wanted the best.

As for need, by the time she was twelve her parents’ disinterest had taught her never to need anyone. Her mother had taken the lesson one step further and drilled into the head of her only child to need men least of all.

Jana had learned that lesson well.

Since she was fifteen she’d carelessly used men as the whim struck, then moved on to the next gullible fool. If life had taught her anything it was that need made you weak and love was a joke for those stupid enough to believe in happily-ever-after. People who thought otherwise were asking for their hearts to be trampled on. Jana had always prided herself on being too smart for that, but somehow she’d taken a wrong turn and no matter what she did she couldn’t seem to get her life back on track.

Tonight was her last chance.

Life was no longer an amusing game where she made the rules, then bent them for her own satisfaction and enjoyment. Her safe comfortable world was gone, perhaps forever.

Her trembling fingers clenched the stem of the champagne flute as she glanced around the formal living room of the palatial mansion. For the first time in her thirty-two years, she had no place to go and no one to turn to. Her black clutch held loose change, lipstick, and the key to a bug-infested motel room. Friends and family might be an option for some, but not for her. She’d never bothered to have friends and her parents had never bothered with her.

Another cursory glance around the elegant room filled with the wealthy and elite, and those who desperately wanted to be, increased the jittery feeling in Jana’s stomach. She’d been here for twenty-five minutes, and although she’d shared good times and a bed with a couple of men in the room, neither had approached her nor spoken.

She felt uncomfortable in her own skin, restless, too keyed up to even enjoy her favorite drink. She was too aware of what would happen to her if she didn’t accomplish her goal tonight.

Hope surged as she caught the eye of Dan Jefferies, a wealthy restaurateur and one of several men in the room who had once pursued her relentlessly. She’d rebuffed him and chosen a man ten years his senior and twenty times as wealthy. She hadn’t been subtle in her rejection. Dan’s sixty-foot craft couldn’t compare to a luxurious yacht with its own helipad. As if remembering her very public put-down, he turned away, just as the other men in the room had done that evening.

A hint of color bloomed in Jana’s pale cheeks. Her hand fluttered to the plunging neckline of her ill-fitting purple gown. It was a hideous dress, but it was the only appropriate attire she had left. If she had on one of her Armani or Valentino couture gowns, her nails and hair done at Neiman’s salon... her thoughts trailed off. Somehow she knew those superficial trappings wouldn’t help. Nothing had gone right since she’d fled Charleston in disgrace almost a year ago. Corrine Livingston had made sure of that.

“How the mighty have fallen.”

“And it couldn’t happen to a more deserving bitch.”

Jana heard the snide comments of the nearby women as she was meant to and barely kept from tucking her head and leaving. Once they wouldn’t have dared cross her and if they had, she’d have given it back to them in spades. What kept the harsh words locked behind her teeth was the vision of the small, cramped space that was now her home... at least for now. She could stand their abuse. What she couldn’t stand was the possibility of never regaining her position in society.

A rich man would change that. But what if...

Her fingers tightened on the stem of the flute. She refused to let herself think about not succeeding. With an unsteady hand she tilted the crystal flute and drained the glass. The vintage wine tasted flat and left her feeling the same way. Once the thought of the chase, of seducing any man to her will, would have made her feel alive. Now it made her stomach roll.

She hadn’t eaten all day. The women standing nearby laughed as Jana’s stomach grumbled. She flushed with embarrassment.

Apparently tired of their little game, Priscilla Haynes, the hostess who had been standing with the two other women, confronted Jana. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

Priscilla was flawless in a black silk Armani gown that hugged her trim figure. A million dollars’ worth of pure pink sapphires surrounded by oval-cut diamonds hung from her ears and circled her throat. The matching bracelet on her right wrist completed the one-of-a-kind suite. The diamond wedding ring was ten carats and flawless, as was the ten-carat diamond tennis bracelet on her other wrist.

Priscilla was a class-A snob and bitch. The slow drawling words were a none-too-subtle swipe that that knowledge would have precluded Jana being invited to the charity ball, since Priscilla was chair, in her home.

Unable to think of a quick comeback, Jana waved the empty flute in a dismissive gesture, then watched the other woman’s hazel eyes narrow and grow even colder. Jana remembered, though now too late, making the same careless gesture shortly before leaving a party in Vail several years ago with Priscilla’s fiancé.

Jana hadn’t wanted the rich oilman. She’d simply wanted to show Priscilla, who thought she was all that, that she could. She’d sent him back to Priscilla the next day. Apparently his wealth far outweighed her humiliation because they had married six months later as scheduled.

“I...” Jana began, but couldn’t quite come up with a witty remark. Smart comebacks had once been her staple and trade, that and getting any man she wanted. Saying she was sorry to Priscilla would have been a lie, but then when had Jana ever been bothered with the truth? Her prime objective was self-gratification, but look what that had gotten her.

Mitsy and Sherilyn, the two women who had spoken earlier, flanked Priscilla, bolstering her. A show of strength that said Priscilla had friends and Jana had nothing and no one. She never had. She hadn’t thought she’d ever need them.

“Jana, you must have missed your salon appointment. I’ve seen better hair and nails on my cleaning woman,” Mitsy said gleefully.

“We hear you’re missing a lot these days.” Sherilyn dared to flick the limp, ruffled sleeve of Jana’s out-of-season gown. The bright purple design clashed garishly with her cinnamon-hued completion. “Where did you get this? The Salvation Army?”

“She earned it on her back like she has everything else,” Mitsy answered.

“Not anymore,” Sherilyn said. “Payback’s a bitch.”

Jana could have stood laughter better than the malicious glee in their eyes, the knowledge that Jana Louise Carpenter Livingston Murphy Franklin, the thrice-married woman who had once ruled those around her, especially men, was almost destitute with no friends, no family, and no place to go.

And it was her own fault.

Jana’s brain urged her to leave, but the thought of what would happen to her if she left without accomplishing her mission kept her rooted on the Oriental rug. Without finding a wealthy man to support her she’d be out on the street tomorrow. The motel manager had already said she could “work it off.” That she had been scared and desperate enough to momentarily consider his offer made her ill. There had to be one man here who still wanted her.

“I lost weight and didn’t have time to shop.” Jana carefully set the glass on a nearby table. “Excuse me. I see someone I know.”

“We all know you, Jana. That’s the problem,” said Priscilla.

Jana flinched at the undisguised contempt in the woman’s voice, then she continued past the hostile stares of the other people in the room. Most of them as gleeful as the women she had left. It wasn’t difficult to read their thoughts: bitchy, man-stealing Jana was finally getting what was coming to her.

Jana’s hand trembled as she grasped the brass knob of the powder room down the hallway. Thankfully it opened. Entering, she shut the door, then slid down until her bottom hit the cool black marble floor.

She’d called her mother for help, but she had said that she was having problems of her own. Jana’s father had hung up on her. Neither had ever been there for her. Her mother has always been busy with the current lover: her father with his telecommunication firm. Why should now be any different?

Yet she couldn’t help hoping that one day things would change.

She’d never worked a real job in her life. First there had been her wealthy father,...