Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's SonThe Brother's WifeThe Long-Lost Heir

by Amanda Stevens

  “So you’re saying that either Victor or Jeremy then remembered Charles McGee’s client down in Houston and, what? Thought he might be the real Adam Kingsley?”

  “Just the opposite,” Jake said. “They thought he might be able to pretend to be Adam Kingsley until he could get his hands on the Kingsley fortune.”

  “But Victor Northrup is wealthy in his own right,” Hope said. “He’s a millionaire. And as for Jeremy—”

  “He never had a prayer of being Iris’s heir, did he?”

  Hope shook her head. “No. She’s made that very clear.”

  “And what would happen to Jeremy and Pamela if Edward were to die suddenly?” Jake asked. “They’d be left out in the cold unless they had a contingency plan.”

  Hope paused, remembering. “You may be right,” she said. “I overheard Pamela and Jeremy talking one night. He asked her why she put up with Edward, and Pamela said it was only for a little while longer. I had the distinct impression that she was talking about something specific. I wondered then if they were up to something, but I never dreamed…” She trailed off, then glanced at Jake. “Do you really think they could be working with Michael?”

  “I’m just saying it’s a possibility,” Jake said. “It’s time I get down to Houston and start asking some questions. In the meantime, I think it would be better if you try to steer clear of Eldridge. Don’t be alone with him. Impostor or not, there’s something definitely not kosher about that guy.”

  * * *

  WHEN HOPE ARRIVED BACK at the mansion, Iris and Michael were just sitting down to lunch on the terrace, and Iris insisted that Hope join them. Since her meeting with Jake, she was hardly in any mood for company, particularly Michael’s. But it was getting harder and harder to avoid him. Hope had no choice but to sit down and admire the lovely table with its snowy linens, sparkling crystal, and fragrant bouquet of blue hyacinths.

  Iris picked daintily at her shrimp-and-avocado salad, stealing not-so-surreptitious glances at Hope and Michael, until Hope became even more uncomfortable. Finally, when the chocolate-and-raspberry dessert had been served, Iris said, “We have a surprise for you, Hope.”

  Hope flinched, her gaze going automatically to Michael’s. She couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to imagine—what the two of them had cooked up. What it might have to do with her.

  Michael smiled, but his expression seemed distant today, his dark blue eyes cool, as if she’d done something that had displeased him. Instantly Hope flashed back to last night, to the kiss she and Jake had shared at the reception. Had Michael seen them? Had his presence been the one she’d sensed in the courtyard?

  If he really was Michael Eldridge, or an impostor, or even Adam Kingsley, there was no reason why he would care who she kissed. Why he would care about her at all.

  But if he wasn’t Michael Eldridge…

  “I’ve invited Michael to move into the mansion,” Iris was saying. “And he has agreed.”

  Hope’s gaze shot to Iris, then back to Michael. He watched her intently. His eyes had a dark and edgy quality about them, as if he were contemplating something Hope was better off not knowing. He seemed different today, less like Andrew. Darker somehow, and more mysterious. More dangerous.

  It occurred to Hope that he was not a man she would want to cross, and she wondered with a shiver if he had somehow found out that she’d hired Jake to investigate him. If that was why he was upset with her.

  “When are you moving in?” she asked.

  “Today,” Iris replied for him. “The sooner the better.”

  “Why the rush?” Hope asked cautiously, but she could tell from the slight frown creasing Iris’s brow that her comment wasn’t the one Iris had hoped to hear.

  “Why wait? I know what the DNA tests will tell us. Michael is my grandson. I have no doubts about that.”

  The smile Michael flashed Iris was the first sign of warmth Hope had seen from him since she’d arrived. He genuinely seemed to care about Iris, and Hope thought how wonderful it would be if he really was Adam. If he turned out to be exactly the kind of grandson Iris needed. Then Hope could move out of the mansion and qet on with her own life. She wouldn’t have to worry about impostors and long-lost heirs and a dead husband who couldn’t seem to stay in his grave.

  “If you’re happy,” she said to Iris, “that’s all that matters.” She could feel Michael’s gaze on her, but she didn’t glance in his direction again.

  Iris said, “I am happy, my dear. Ecstatically happy. There’s only one thing that could possibly make me any happier.” She paused and reached across the table to take Hope’s hand. With her other hand, she reached for Michael’s. For a moment, Hope had the wild notion that Iris might try to bring their hands together, but mercifully, she spared them that. Instead she said, “I think it would be nice if you would show Michael around the city today, Hope. Let him get to know Memphis the way we know it. I’m sure he’ll come to love it as much as we do.”

  Hope started to protest, but Michael said quickly, “That’s a wonderful idea. Hope, would you mind?”

  Of course, she minded, Hope thought. She minded a lot, but Iris was obviously waiting for her answer while Michael Eldridge’s dark eyes seemed to hold a challenge. A dare. He thought Hope would be too frightened to spend the afternoon with him, but it occurred to her that it might be the perfect opportunity to trip him up. Or at the very least, learn something about him that Jake could follow up on later.

  Jake’s warning flashed through her mind, but Hope dismissed it. It was broad daylight, after all. What could happen? “I think it’s a great idea,” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “I’d love to show you around Memphis.”

  * * *

  AS SOON AS HOPE LEFT his office, Jake drove back across town to his father’s cottage to pack a small bag and make arrangements for his trip to Houston. There were several Southwest Airlines flights leaving Memphis International Airport that afternoon for Houston, but most of them had stops in either Little Rock or Dallas. He booked a seat on the only direct flight available—one leaving at five o’clock that afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to give his father a hand in the gardens.

  Changing into a disreputable pair of jeans and a cotton shirt he left untucked and unbuttoned, Jake went in search of his father, finally locating him at the disassembled rock garden near the reflecting pool on the front lawn.

  His dad knelt on the ground, attempting to arrange the heavy rocks that hadn’t yet been carried away in a pattern that escaped Jake. “Here,” he said. “You tell me where you want them and I’ll do the lifting.”

  Gerald grunted as he got to his feet. “I was doing this long before you came along, Jake.”

  “And you’ll be doing it long after I’m gone,” Jake agreed, lifting one of the rocks and setting it down near the pile his father had been working on.

  “Not there,” he grumbled. “You’ve completely ruined the symmetry.”

  “Okay, Pop,” Jake said, hanging on to his patience by a thread. “Just tell me where.”

  His father pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and spread it on one of the rocks. It was a scaled architectural drawing, complete with dimensions for the new rock garden and construction guidelines for a miniature waterfall that would be fed by underground pipes.

  Jake looked up from the drawing. “You designed this, Pop?”

  “Who do you think?” his father said. “Miss Iris wants the rock garden rebuilt, so it’s my job to find a way to do it.”

  “I guess I just never stopped to consider—”

  “What?” his father demanded. “That your old man’s job entails more than just throwing some dirt on the ground and sticking a few plants in.”

  “I never thought that,” Jake said. “You’ve had me out here digging in the dirt since I was old enough to carry a spade. I guess I just never stopped to think that you were the one who designed all this.” He glanced around the complex series of gardens, the color scheme and layo
ut of each blending and complementing the next. His father was more than a gardener, Jake realized. He was an artist, and the Kingsley gardens were his painting. A giant canvas of living, blooming color.

  “You really are something, Pop,” Jake said quietly.

  His father bent down to examine one of the rocks. “Yeah, well, if you’re going to help me, help me,” he said gruffly. “Don’t stand out here jawing at me all day.”

  But it was a nice moment, and for a long time afterward, they worked in companionable silence. After an hour or so, Jake stood to stretch his back. He’d been doing all the lifting, and his muscles were starting to feel the strain. While he walked around, getting the kinks out, the front door of the mansion opened and Hope and Michael Eldridge emerged.

  After what he’d told Hope about Eldridge this morning, Jake had thought she would stay as far away from him as she could, at least until they learned a few more facts about him. But here the two of them were, acting just as chummy as could be. What the hell was going on here?

  Hope wore a violet dress of some flowing fabric that swirled around her tanned, slender legs as she and Michael descended the steps to the walkway. As Jake watched, he saw Eldridge put a proprietary arm around Hope’s waist, and she didn’t seem to object. Eldridge guided her around the Viper and helped her inside. Then he went around to the other side and climbed behind the wheel.

  The two of them left without a glance in Jake’s direction.

  * * *

  HOPE TRIED TO HIT MOST of the touristy spots with Michael. Safe, well-populated areas like Overton Square, Beale Street, Graceland, and Mud Island. Then, over drinks in the Peabody Hotel, they watched the famous Peabody ducks leave the fountain in the lobby and waddle off to the elevator, where they would be transported skyward to their penthouse suite.

  Hope glanced at her watch. It was just after five, and she wondered if Jake had left for Houston yet. “Well,” she said brightly, “I think we’ve covered just about everything.”

  “Not quite.” Michael leaned across the table toward her, his dark blue eyes glinting with something Hope couldn’t define. “I’d like to see where you grew up.”

  “There’s not much to see,” Hope said, trying to hide her surprise. Andrew had never liked going back to her old neighborhood, even to visit her mother. He’d felt uncomfortable there, like a fish out of water. Maybe this was a good sign, Hope decided. A sign that Michael Eldridge was the man he claimed to be. “The house I grew up in is nothing like the Kingsley mansion,” she warned. “My father was a policeman, and my mother’s a librarian.”

  “I know.”

  Hope glanced at him warily. “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “Iris and I have had many long conversations. She really loves you, you know. You’re like a granddaughter to her.”

  “I’m very fond of her, too,” Hope said. “I wouldn’t want to see her get hurt. She was devastated after Andrew’s death. I don’t know if she could take another shock like that.”

  “Is that why you dislike me?” he asked. “Because you think I’m going to hurt Iris?”

  His expression was earnest enough, but there was something in his eyes that bothered Hope. Had always bothered Hope. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she said. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that you—that no one takes advantage of her. She’s vulnerable right now, but I’m not.”

  “Aren’t you?” His gaze grew slightly mocking. “You just lost your husband, Hope. I would think you would be extremely vulnerable at the moment.”

  “Then you would be wrong.” She met his gaze with a long, penetrating stare of her own.

  Finally, the mocking glint left his eyes, and his expression grew more serious. “You have no reason to distrust me. I’ve never claimed to be Adam Kingsley. Iris has made all the assumptions herself. But let me ask you this, Hope. If I am nothing but an impostor, out to get what I can from Iris, why did I subject myself to the DNA tests?”

  “The results won’t be back for days yet, maybe even weeks,” Hope reminded him. “Already you’ve insinuated yourself into her affections. You’ve worked your way into her home. I can’t help asking myself what might be next.”

  “Well,” he said. “You’re being very frank. I can appreciate that. Let me be just as open with you. I’ve grown to care a great deal about Iris. She’s become the family I never had. It was her idea that I move into the mansion, and I was happy to comply because I’ve never really liked living alone. She’s asked me to call her Grandmother, and I’ve agreed to that, too, because I asked myself, where’s the harm? Especially when, for all any of us knows, I am her grandson. And now she has another request.” His eyes deepened as he reached across the table and took Hope’s hand. It required all her willpower not to flinch away. “She would like for you and me to become…close, and I have to say, I wouldn’t mind that, either. You’re a very attractive woman, Hope. I’ve been drawn to you from the first.”

  His directness shattered Hope’s illusion of calmness. Shocked, she drew her hand back from his, and he resisted so smoothly Hope wondered if she’d imagined the brief tightening around her fingers. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. We hardly know each other.”

  “I don’t feel that way at all,” he said. “I feel like I’ve known you for years. We share a bond…because of Andrew. He and I were identical twins, very much alike even though we weren’t raised together. You must feel something for me, Hope.”

  The fact that they were in a public bar conducting such an intimate conversation while people talked and laughed and drank all around them made the whole scene even more surreal. Hope stared at the man across the table from her and wondered about all those long conversations he and Iris had shared. Where had he gotten the notion that Hope might want a relationship with him?

  “Andrew’s only been dead for five months,” she began carefully.

  “Yes, I know. But that only proves how fleeting life is. We shouldn’t waste a moment of it.”

  “No one’s rushing you. We’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out,” Jake had told her. Had that only been last night?

  Jake, she thought wistfully. Where are you now when I need you? Because in spite of Michael’s earnestness, Hope still didn’t trust him. She still didn’t feel safe with him, and she knew instinctively that she had better handle this situation delicately. The fact that they were in a public place might not make a difference if she told Michael what she really thought of him.

  “Look,” he said, as if sensing her wariness. “Maybe I’ve gone about this all wrong. Maybe comparing myself to Andrew was the last thing I should have done. I know you two didn’t have the happiest of marriages.”

  “And just how would you know that?” Hope asked coolly.

  He shrugged. “I’ve picked up on some things, and I can promise you this. I may be like Andrew in a lot of ways, but I would never treat you the way he did. I wouldn’t repeat his mistakes.”

  Hope’s heart beat a painful staccato inside her. “How do you know so much about Andrew?” she whispered. “How do you know so much about me?”

  His eyes grew dark and mysterious, his expression enigmatic. A smile, so much like Andrew’s, tilted the corners of his mouth. “Because I’m your soul mate, Hope. Haven’t you figured that out by now? You and I belong together. We always have.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jake landed at Houston’s William P. Hobby Airport shortly after six-thirty and rented a car, taking the 610 Loop to the Galleria area, a pricey district of exclusive shops, fine restaurants, and plush office buildings. The brokerage firm where Eldridge worked was located near the Southwest Freeway, and the address of his apartment, provided by the DMV, was nearby, on Westheimer, one of the city’s main drags.

  Traffic was heavy even for a Sunday evening, and Jake drove around for a while, getting his bearings. It was dark by the time he finally located Casa del Sol, a group of Spanish-style buildings landscaped with oleander bushes
and palm trees. Colorfully described as “garden apartments,” the two-story structures were not unlike the dozens of complexes that populated east Memphis.

  Spotting the right building, he parked in the visitors’ lot and watched the apartment for a few minutes before getting out of the car. He didn’t expect trouble, but Jake was by nature and by profession a cautious man.

  The buildings were stucco and brick, housing eight units each, with wrought-iron stairways at either end and a long gallery between them that provided access to the four second-story apartments.

  As Jake got out of his car and started toward the building, another car pulled in and parked in the covered area reserved for the tenants. A door slammed, and in a moment, Jake heard footsteps on the metal stairs farthest from him. He took the other set of stairs, deliberately slowing his steps. As he reached the covered landing, a woman stood at the far end, outside Michael Eldridge’s apartment, inserting a key into the lock.

  She wore a slim yellow skirt with a matching midriff top that displayed an amazingly narrow waist, especially considering that other parts of her anatomy were just as amazingly ample. Her hair was white blond, but shiny and sleek, as if the color were natural, and when she turned to glance in his direction, Jake saw that her eyes were blue, very light and very beautiful.

  “She was blond, about so high,” the bartender had told him at the Club Mystique. “And stacked. I mean, really built.”

  On impulse Jake called, “Carol?”

  The woman turned, then immediately realized her mistake. For a split second, she seemed to calculate her chances of getting into the apartment and slamming the door in Jake’s face. But she hadn’t yet unlocked the dead bolt. She whirled and took off down the stairs.

  Jake tore off after her, taking the steps two at a time, then racing across the covered parking area in pursuit. She was ahead of him, but he knew he could catch her easily when she stopped to unlock her car.