One Heir...Or Two?. Yvonne LindsayЧитать онлайн книгу.
They were kindred spirits—both focused on their business targets, both leading professional, uncluttered lives and neither of them wanting the burden of parenthood. Neither of them expected—or particularly wanted—passionate love and romance. But they’d share respect, attraction and compatible interests—and what more could he want than that? Yep, life was pretty much perfect for the boy who grew up never feeling like he belonged anywhere, and this ring would help seal the deal.
A subtle ping on his computer screen alerted him to a message from Reception. Using his Bluetooth earpiece, he connected to Anita—his dragon at the gate, as the rest of the staff called her.
“There’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Murphy. She doesn’t have an appointment but she is most insistent.”
He could hear the disapproval in every syllable of Anita’s perfect diction. Despite himself, Van felt a smile tug at his lips.
“Does the woman have a name?” he prompted. Clearly his receptionist was flustered, a reaction infrequent enough to amuse him. It was unlike her not to give him her usual shorthand summary of details that he needed to make a decision about any unexpected visitor.
“She says she’s an old friend and doesn’t need an appointment.”
A prickle of foreboding made the hairs on the back of Van’s neck stand up. That sensation had kept him alive more than once doing his tours of duty and since, in the private sector, and he wasn’t about to ignore it now.
“Get her contact details and tell her to make an appointment to come back. Thank you, Anita.”
A lot could be learned from a name and contact details, especially by a man with his resources. Just before he clicked off the call, he heard a slight commotion in the background.
“No,” he heard Anita say very firmly. “I most definitely will not hold—”
Then all he heard was a scuffling sound. He frowned. What on earth was going on? He didn’t have to wait long to find out. The commotion he’d heard in his earpiece was very definitely coming toward him down the corridor. Van gritted his teeth in frustration. His was a specialized international security company. How secure was it really if someone could walk in off the street and cause this much of a ruckus? He was up and moving from his chair before he even completed the thought, but before he could reach the door to his office, it swung open and a woman swept in. In that split second, every notion, even the breath in his lungs, stalled right where it was.
Kayla Porter.
Damn.
The last time he’d seen her, five years ago, she’d been curled up asleep on the sofa bed of the substandard apartment she’d shared with her late sister. The bed they’d shared for a few intense, incredibly hot hours before he’d pulled himself away.
Kayla stopped in her tracks the moment her eyes lit on him. Five years since he’d last seen her and she hadn’t changed a bit. Still dressed like an escapee hippie from the sixties and still with the long flowing blond hair. He could even remember the scent of the shampoo she’d used back then. Something herbal and sweet and essentially Kayla. The memory was visceral and hit him hard.
“Good to see you again, Van,” she said in that husky “come to bed” voice of hers as she took a few steps into his office.
Her eyes flicked over him, from the top of his head and his precisely mussed, expensive haircut to the tips of his highly polished handmade shoes. She smiled.
“I see you can take the man out of the army but you can’t quite take the army out of the man, right?” she commented with a nod to his gleaming footwear.
No, she hadn’t changed. Still with the flip attitude. Still thinking she was welcome wherever she went and that people would pretty much forgive her anything.
“I take it you’re the one upsetting my receptionist? You couldn’t have made an appointment?”
The second the words were out of his mouth and he saw the surprised hurt reflected in her clear blue gaze, he wished he’d thought before speaking. But that was how it always was with Kayla. She brought out the worst in him. Always had, even when they were kids growing up next door to one another. Granted, she was four years younger than Van and her sister, Sienna, and her nuisance factor had correlated with the age difference. But it hadn’t gotten any easier to deal with her once they’d grown up. Somehow, she always put him on edge, made him feel out of control. And that was why, after their one-night stand, he’d walked away and never looked back. Even though it made him ashamed of himself whenever he thought of it—or remembered how before Sienna had died, he’d promised her he’d always look out for Kayla.
The past always had a habit of biting you in the ass.
“I’m sorry—” he started again, moving toward her. “You’re here now. What can I do for you?”
He tried not to look too closely at where a rapid pulse beat at the base of her throat, because if he did, he’d remember just how silky soft her skin had been beneath his tongue, remember just how she’d tasted. A flush of desire heated his blood but he pushed back, hard. He wasn’t that man anymore. Not driven by emotional and physical need. No, he’d finally learned to control himself and his behavior. Learned not to act on impulse. Learned to weigh and consider and recognize when a situation was just risky or out-and-out dangerous. And for some reason his senses were screaming red alert right now.
Another sound from the corridor outside filtered into his office. A sound that made Kayla turn, a look of dismay on her face.
She moved toward him, her hands outstretched. “Van, I need to talk to you about something important. I really need your help. I—”
Anita arrived in the doorway looking totally nonplussed, and no wonder, because she had a baby in her arms. A baby? Van looked from his flustered receptionist to the strand of pearls clutched in a chubby fist and thrust in a gummy drooling mouth, and then to Kayla again.
“Yours, I presume?” he asked.
And then the baby looked up from her prize and he was struck instantly by the eyes that caught his. Eyes that were identical to the ones that reflected back at him every morning in the mirror.
“Yours, too, to be precise,” Kayla said, softly, finding her voice again.
* * *
Kayla could see Van’s mind casting back to that one night they’d shared after Sienna’s funeral, gauging the age of the baby, doing the math and coming up with numbers that made no sense at all. The baby began to fret and she moved forward to take her from her very reluctant minder. If Kayla’s sitter hadn’t fallen through...well, if her sitter hadn’t up and left her with no notice, her baby girl wouldn’t be here at all.
“Come on, Sienna. We’ll have none of that. Let the nice lady’s necklace go.”
“Sienna?”
Van’s attention, locked for the past minute on the baby, now transferred to her.
“She’s named for her mother. Appropriate, don’t you think?”
Van gave her another hard look, leaving her in no doubt she was in for a grilling. He’d never actually said what he’d done in the Special Forces but she had no doubt that interrogation had probably been on an extensive list of lethal skills.
“Her mother? Sienna?”
Kayla turned to the receptionist, who still hovered in the doorway. “Thank you, I think we’ll be fine now.”
The woman looked from Kayla to Van and back again. Van seemed to come to attention.
“Yes, thank you, Anita. Could you please call Dani and tell her I’ll be delayed for lunch today. Perhaps we can reschedule for dinner instead.”
“Yes, sir, right away. Are you sure about...?” Anita gestured vaguely toward Kayla and the baby.
“I think I can handle them,” he said firmly.