Triple Trouble / A Real Live Cowboy. Judy Duarte

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       Chapter One

      Nicholas Fortune closed the financial data file on his computer and stretched. Yawning, he pushed his chair away from his desk and stood. His office was on the top floor of the building housing the Fortune Foundation, and outside the big corner windows, the Texas night was moonless, the sky a black dome spangled with the faint glitter of stars.

      “Hell of a lot different from L.A.,” he mused aloud, his gaze tracing the moving lights of an airplane far above. The view from the window in his last office in a downtown Los Angeles high rise too often had been blurred with smog that usually blotted out the stars. No, Red Rock, Texas, was more than just a few thousand miles from California—it was a whole world away.

      All in all, he thought as he gazed into the darkness, he was glad he’d moved here a month ago. He’d grown tired of his job as a financial analyst for the Kline Corporation in L.A. and needed new challenges—working for the family foundation allowed him time to contemplate his next career move. And a nice side benefit was that he got to spend more time with his brother, Darr.

      With the exception of the hum of a janitor’s vacuum in the hallway outside, the building around him was as silent as the street below. Nicholas turned away from the window and returned to his desk to slide his laptop into its leather carrying case. He was just shrugging into his jacket when his cell phone rang.

      He glanced at his watch. The fluorescent dials read eleven-fifteen. He didn’t recognize the number and ordinarily would have let the call go to voice mail, but for some reason he thumbed the On button. “Hello?”

      “Mr. Fortune? Nicholas Fortune?”

      He didn’t recognize the male voice. “Yes.”

      “Ah, excellent.” Relief echoed in the man’s voice. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I’ve been trying to locate you for three days and my assistant just found this number. My name is Andrew Sanchez. I’m an attorney for the estate of Stan Kennedy.”

      Nicholas froze, his fingers tightening on the slim black cell phone. “The estate of Stan Kennedy? Did something happen to Stan?”

      “I’m sorry to be the bearer of unfortunate news.” The caller’s voice held regret. “Mr. Kennedy and his wife were killed in a car accident three days ago.”

      Shock kept Nicholas mute.

      “Mr. Fortune?”

      “Yeah.” Nicholas managed to force words past the thick emotion clogging his throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

      “It’s my understanding you and Mr. Kennedy were quite close?”

      “We were college roommates. I haven’t seen Stan in a year or so, but we keep in touch—kept in touch by phone and e-mail.” Like brothers, Nicholas thought. “We were close as brothers in college.”

      “I see. Well, Mr. Fortune, that probably explains why he named you guardian of his children. The little girls are currently safe and in the care of a foster mother, but the caseworker is anxious to transfer custody to you. The sooner they’re in a stable environment the better.”

      “Whoa, wait a minute.” Nicholas shook his head to clear it, convinced he hadn’t heard the attorney correctly. “Stan left me in charge of his kids?”

      “Yes, that’s correct.” The attorney paused. “You didn’t know?”

      Nicholas tried to remember exactly what Stan had told him about his will. They’d both agreed to take care of business for the other if anything happened to them. He’d been Stan’s best man at his wedding to Amy and he definitely remembered Stan asking him to look after his bride should anything happen. Even though their conversation had taken place while emptying a magnum of champagne, Nicholas knew his word was important to Stan and he hadn’t given it lightly.

      But babies? And not just one—three.

      “The triplets weren’t born when we made a pact to look after each other’s estate, should anything ever happen,” he told the attorney. And neither of us thought he and Amy wouldn’t live to raise their daughters. “But I promised Stan I’d take care of his family if he couldn’t.”

      “Excellent.” The attorney’s voice was full of relief. “Can I expect you at my office tomorrow, then?”

      “Tomorrow?” Nick repeated, his voice rough with shock.

      “I know it’s extremely short notice,” Sanchez said apologetically. “But as I said, the caseworker is very concerned that the babies be settled in a permanent situation as soon as possible.”

      “Uh, yeah, I suppose that makes sense,” Nick said. He thrust his fingers through his hair and tried to focus on the calendar that lay open on his desktop. “I’ve got a meeting I can’t cancel in the morning, but I’ll catch the first flight out after lunch.” Nicholas jotted down the address in Amarillo and hung up. It was several moments before he realized he was sitting on the edge of his desk, staring at the silent phone, still open in his hand.

      Grief washed over him, erasing the cold, numbing shock that had struck with the news. He couldn’t believe Stan and Amy were gone. The couple met life with a zest few of their friends could match. It was impossible СКАЧАТЬ