The Missing Heir. Barbara Dunlop

baby brother trusted him. How was a guy supposed to react to that?

      “You’re magic,” Amber whispered. “Whatever it is you’re doing, just keep it up.”

      “I’m only standing here.”

      “He’s been crying for over an hour. He gets like that sometimes.”

      “He probably exhausted himself before I got here.”

      “I think he misses his parents,” Amber said softly, her expression compassionate as she gazed at Zachary. She reached out to stoke the baby’s downy hair. “But he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling, and he certainly can’t put it into words.”

      Then she gave Cole a sweet smile. “You should come inside for a minute.”

      The dog seemed to understand the invitation. It padded gamely into the living room.

      Amber’s cute, disheveled appearance, the mutt’s claws clicking on the hardwood and the baby powder scent of Zachary’s warm body curled in his arms brought a sense of unreality to Cole.

      “Sure,” he answered, and followed her through the archway.

      It took only seconds for him to realize this was a perfect opportunity to learn more about her.

      “It was either this or the mansion.” She seemed to be apologizing for the opulent surroundings. “We thought it would be less disruptive if Zachary kept his nanny, Isabel. She occasionally sleeps over, so there was no way we’d all fit in my apartment. It’s one bedroom with a tiny kitchen. This place belonged to Samuel.”

      The furnishings were obviously expensive, but they were strewn with baby blankets and rattles, the floor decorated with colorful plastic toys.

      “Sorry about the mess,” she said.

      “You don’t need to apologize.”

      “And me.” She looked ruefully down at herself. “Well, this is me. This is what I normally look like. Last night was the anomaly.”

      “Seriously, Amber. You have nothing to apologize for. You look great.”

      She coughed out a laugh of disbelief.

      “Okay, you look normal. How formal do you think we get in Alaska?”

      She seemed to consider that. “Can I get you something?”

      “I’m fine.”

      He didn’t want to put her to any work. Then again, judging by Zachary’s even breathing and relaxed body, his excuse for hanging around had just fallen asleep. Maybe refreshments weren’t such a bad idea.

      “Do you happen to have coffee?” he asked.

      “Coming up. Take a seat anywhere.” She gestured to the furniture as she exited through another archway that obviously led to the kitchen.

      Cole took in the massive living room. In one corner, a plush sofa and a couple of leather armchairs bracketed a gas fireplace. Another furniture grouping was set up next to a bank of picture windows overlooking the city. The room was open to a formal dining room at one end and a hallway at the other that obviously led to the bedrooms.

      He decided to follow Amber into the kitchen. No point in wasting valuable conversation time here by himself.

      The kitchen was also huge, with high ceilings, a central island, generous granite counter spaces, stainless-steel appliances of every conceivable description and maple cabinets interspersed with big windows that faced the park. There was a breakfast nook at one end, stationed beside a balcony door, and an open door at the other, leading to a big pantry.

      “This is very nice,” said Cole.

      “I’m still getting used to the size.” She closed the lid and pressed a button on the coffeemaker. “It’s weird moving into someone else’s stuff—their furniture, their dishes, their towels. It’s crazy, but I miss my pepper mill.” She pointed to a corner of the counter. “You practically need a forklift to use that one.”

      Cole found himself smiling. “You should move your own stuff in.”

      For some reason, her expression faltered.

      “I’m sorry,” he quickly put in. “It’s too soon?”

      She paused, seeming to search for words. “It’s too something. I won’t pretend I was close to my stepsister, and I barely knew Samuel. Maybe it’s the court case. Maybe I don’t want to jinx anything. But I’m definitely keeping my own apartment intact until everything is completely finalized.”

      Cole perched on a stool in front of the island. Zachary was quiet and comfortable in his arms and surprisingly easy to hold. “Tell me about the court case.”

      “You haven’t read the tabloids?”

      “Not much.”

      “I’m in a custody battle with Roth Calvin. He’s a vice president at Coast Eagle and Samuel’s stated choice for guardian.”

      “I’d heard that much.”

      “Coco named me as guardian, and I won on a technicality, but Roth’s fighting it.”

      “Is Roth close to Zachary?”

      Amber pulled two hunter-green stoneware mugs out of a side cupboard. “Roth’s close to Coast Eagle. You were right last night in the car. The person who controls Zachary ultimately controls the company.”

      “So you can get me my Pacific routes.” Now that Cole had thought it through, he realized the cover story was perfect. It gave him an excuse to ask all kinds of questions without anybody growing suspicious.

      “I have no intention of micromanaging Coast Eagle.”

      “We had a fight last night, didn’t we?” Cole had become so focused on the shoes, and then the dog, and then on Zachary, he’d forgotten she’d left the car mad at him.

      “You call that a fight?”

      “I believe I questioned your commitment to Zachary’s inheritance.”

      “My commitment is to Zachary. I want the company to stay healthy for him, sure. But I can tell when I’m not the smartest person in the room. There are a lot of committed, hardworking managers and employees at Coast Eagle. They need to continue running the company.”

      “Don’t sell yourself short.”

      “I’m an assistant director, Cole.”

      He liked it when she said his name. “You’re responsible for the well-being of the company owner.”

      Her gaze rested on Zachary, and her tone went soft. “Poor thing.”

      “Poor little rich boy?” It came out more sarcastic than Cole had intended.

      “I honestly wish he’d inherited a whole lot less. That way nobody would fight me for him.”

      “So you’re afraid you might lose?”

      Her expression faltered, and she focused on pouring the freshly brewed coffee. “I try not to think about it.” She turned back with both cups in her hands. “I can’t believe you got him to sleep.”

      “I’m just sitting here breathing. You wore him out.”

      “Maybe he likes the sound of your voice.”

      “Maybe,” Cole agreed.

      Cole didn’t like to think Zachary’s behavior had anything to do with the genetic connection. But Cole supposed it was possible he sounded like Samuel. Maybe Zachary was subconsciously picking it up.

      “You can probably get away with putting him down in his bed,” said Amber.

      “He’s fine here.”

      Oddly, Cole didn’t want to put Zachary down, at least not