The Missing Heir. Barbara DunlopЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Two

      Amber couldn’t wait to get out of the ballroom. Her first choice on a Saturday night was to stay home with Zachary, tucked in her jammies with a cup of hot chocolate and an old movie. But she was the closest thing there was to a member of the Henderson family, and somebody had to graciously accept the pilots association’s thanks.

      Unlike her sister, Coco, Amber never attended highbrow events. Consequently, everything she wore tonight was new. Her feet were killing her in the ridiculous high heels. Her push-up bra was digging into her ribs, the lace scratching her skin. And the tight dress, chosen by Destiny, who insisted it was perfect, was restricting her movements so that she couldn’t even cross her legs under the table.

      The MC ended a string of thank-yous with a request for applause to compliment the catering staff. As the clapping died down, the music came up, signaling the start of the dance.

      Amber breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left was to politely make her way toward the exit, find a cab and get home. She stood, tucking her tiny purse under her arm.

      A fiftysomething woman she vaguely recognized grasped her hand to shake it. “Lovely speech, Ms. Welsley. Lovely speech.”

      “Thank you.”

      The woman’s expression turned serious. “Even in such tragic circumstances, the Henderson family is having a positive impact on the community.”

      “Samuel was a very generous man,” Amber responded by rote, though she had her own private thoughts on Samuel’s character, most particularly his decision to marry her beautiful, impetuous, nineteen-year-old stepsister.

      Amber had initially kept her distance from the couple, regretting many times the decision to bring Coco to the company party where the two had met. But then Coco had become pregnant, and Amber had been drawn back into the drama of Coco’s life.

      “Excuse me, Ms. Welsley,” came a male voice.

      The woman seemed reluctant to step back to give way.

      “Good evening.” Amber smiled at the new man, taking his offered hand, mentally calculating how long it would take her to run the gauntlet to the exit. It would be an hour or more at this pace. She truly didn’t think she could stand that long in these shoes. For a nonsensical moment, she pictured herself toppling over onto the ballroom floor.

      “I’m Kevin Mathews from Highbush Unlimited. I wonder if I might give you my card.”

      Amber kept her smile in place. “Certainly, Mr. Mathews.”

      He dug into his inside pocket for a business card. “We’re a charitable organization, focused on environmental rehabilitation, primarily in the northwest. I know a lot about Mr. Henderson and Coast Eagle, and I can’t help imagining that he would have been a supporter of the environmental rehabilitation.”

      Amber doubted that Samuel had given much thought to the environment, since he flew around in a private jet, air-conditioned the heck out of his mansion and owned several gas-guzzling luxury cars.

      But she took the card the man offered. “I’d be happy to pass this along to Coast Eagle’s Community Outreach Unit.”

      His expression faltered. “If you have some time now, I could outline for you our—”

      “There you are,” came a deeper male voice. “I believe it’s time for our dance.”

      Cole Parker appeared by her side, his arm held out, a broad smile on his face.

      Amber couldn’t tell if he was rescuing her or about to pitch something himself. But she quickly estimated that the dance floor was more than halfway to the exit. That was progress. She returned his smile and took his arm.

      “Please excuse me,” she said to Kevin.

      Kevin’s expression faltered, but he had little choice but to let her go.

      Cole guided her through the crowd, keeping their pace brisk enough to discourage the people who looked as though they might approach. It was hard on her feet, particularly her baby toes, but there was no option but to keep walking. Gradually, the crowd thinned near the dance floor.

      “Am I out of the frying pan and into the fire?” she asked him.

      “I’m not hitting you up for a donation, if that’s what you mean.”

      “Good to hear.” She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he was persistent enough that he had to be after something.

      “I brought you a gift,” he told her.

      “Bribery? That’s a bit blatant, don’t you think?”

      “I believe in getting straight to the point.” He lifted his palm.

      She glanced down, squinting. “You bought me a pair of...socks?”

      “Dancing slippers. I got them from a vending machine in the lobby.” He glanced down at her black-and-gold four-inch heels. “Unless I miss my guess, those are two-hour shoes.”

      She grimaced. “Is that what they call them?” It was an apt name.

      She knew she should be suspicious of his motives, but she couldn’t help but feel grateful.

      “Over here.” He pointed to a couple of empty chairs at the edge of the dance floor. “Have a seat.”

      She eased down, deciding to accept the gift and remove the torture chambers from her feet. How much could she possibly be indebted to him for a pair of vending-machine dancing slippers?

      She unbuckled the straps and slipped her feet free.

      “I went with medium.” He handed her the black-satin, ballet-style slippers.

      Slipping them onto her feet, she nearly groaned out loud. “They’re so soft.”

      He bent to pick up her shiny heels, dangling them from his fingertips for a moment before setting them down. “These are ridiculous.”

      She rose with him. “This is an important event for Coast Eagle. And Destiny says they make my calves look longer.”

      “Your calves are already the perfect length.” He set the shoes on the chair.

      “You’re not even looking at them.”

      “I can tell by your height.” He offered his arm again. “Shall we?”

      “I suppose it’s the least I can do, since you saved my feet. But you have to make me a promise.”

      “Sure.”

      She took his arm. “After the dance, walk me to the exit.” She glanced discreetly around. “For some reason, nobody’s bothering me when I’m with you.”

      “Were they bothering you before?”

      “All evening long.” She’d never experienced anything like it. “Donations, jobs and pictures. Why on earth would anybody want their picture taken with me?”

      “Because you’re beautiful?” He drew her into his arms.

      “Ha, ha.” Coco had been beautiful. Amber was, well, sensible. She was very sensible.

      Not that sensible was a bad thing. And she truly didn’t mind her looks. Her eyes were a pleasant shade of blue. Her nose wasn’t too big. Her hair was slightly curly and had its good days and bad days. Today it had been tamed by a team of professionals, so it looked pretty good. She had to say, though, she wasn’t crazy about the sticky feeling from all the products they’d used at Chez Philippe.

      “I wasn’t joking,” said Cole.

      “We