Royal Heir. Alice Sharpe

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      A SLY SMILE played across Will’s lips as his attempt to hack into the company’s computer system went through without a hitch. He knew he owed his luck to Brian Wainwright’s tendency to procrastinate, a tendency that had driven Will crazy for years.

      But not tonight.

      “Thanks, Brian, you lazy SOB,” he whispered.

      As he printed out his address book, he caught the sound of the running shower. Despite the late hour—it was closing in on midnight—Julia had announced her decision to bathe with a defiant look on her pretty face. He wasn’t sure to what he should attribute that look. His presence in her home? The intruder, the attempts on her life, the kidnapping of Leo?

      The woman had had quite a day.

      And she was taking him on faith. Worrisome.

      He’d refused her attempts to bathe and bandage his arm. He couldn’t afford the time. It seemed as though they were standing still, that Leo was moving farther and farther away.

      But he hadn’t refused the offer of a ham sandwich and a glass of milk. After polishing off the last of both, he unwound Julia’s white wool scarf from his arm, glancing around what was to have been his son’s room. Julia hadn’t gotten too far on the decorating. Blue walls, a blue synthetic oriental-type rug, one side of the room taken up with a single bed, a desk and the computer equipment. A box against the other wall held a crib yet to be assembled. Another box held a high chair. She’d cleared off the top of a dresser and stacked disposable diapers and baby-related items like baby oil and wiping cloths, a brand-new package of pacifiers, bibs, swabs.

      It jarred him to think that these things were meant for his son.

      He dumped the scarf in the garbage. The bleeding had stopped. Of course, the sleeve of the suit and the shirt beneath were torn and stained. Along with his muddy pants and wacky hair, he must present quite an attractive package.

      She walked into the room just as he lifted the paper from her printer.

      “Did you find your aunt’s phone number?”

      “Yes,” he said, turning to face her. No femme fatale outfit for Julia Sheridan, he saw. She had changed into gray sweatpants and a pink T-shirt, both on the baggy side. Her brown hair was wet and shiny, caught in a ponytail, her skin rosy. She looked sixteen. Way too young and innocent to be in the same room with him.

      She handed him the phone, but he shook his head. “I don’t want the cops listening in,” he said as he folded the pages and stuck them in a pocket. “May I use your cell phone?”

      She left the room without comment and he followed her into the kitchen. She’d started a pot of coffee and he poured himself a cup as she dug her cell phone from her handbag.

      His aunt didn’t answer. He left a phone number but not his name. In fact, he didn’t identify himself at all, just urged her to return his call at the first opportunity, day or night.

      “Does she have a cell phone? Is there another number you could call?”

      “She has one but she doesn’t leave it on. Uses it to make calls but hates being a ‘slave’ to it. Besides, odds are at this time of the night she was there, listening to my message.”

      “Why wouldn’t she answer you?”

      “You’re forgetting the last news she had about me was that I perished in a boating accident. Even if she hears this message, she’ll be wary that it’s me. If she doesn’t call soon, I’ll call her back.”

      They stood staring at each other for several moments as Will sipped the coffee without tasting it. It came to him that he was beginning to think of Julia as a woman, not just as Nicole’s little cousin or Leo’s surrogate mother. He was beginning to notice the shape of her body, the thrust of her breasts against her T-shirt, the softness of her lips in repose, the expressions that flashed across her face at breakneck speed.

      He wanted to know more about her.

      But first he wanted sleep. And a shower and clean clothes. And most of all, Leo safe in his arms.

      She said, “I think you’d better start wondering who else would steal your son, Will. And I’d better start wondering who wants me dead.”

      Will couldn’t answer either question, though he wondered if his past, swathed in a suffocating silence his aunt had always refused to break, could have played a part in Leo’s abduction. He couldn’t picture anyone wanting to kill Julia unless it was connected to Leo’s disappearance. Someone was afraid she could identify them. That’s what made sense.

      A banging on the front door interrupted the silence that had descended after Julia’s last observations. A male voice called, “Julia? Julia, are you in there? Open up!”

      “It’s a little late for callers,” Will said, glancing at the flower wall clock. It was after midnight now. He set aside his coffee mug.

      “I forgot all about George,” she said, hurrying to answer the door. By the time Will rounded the corner, he found Julia engulfed in a tall man’s arms. She burst into tears.

      Who the hell was George?

      

      “I MEANT TO CALL you,” Julia said when she came up for air. Embarrassed by her tears and the emotional meltdown that had prompted them, she kept her gaze fastened on a wall somewhere between the two men. By then, George had steered her into the living room and Will had closed and locked the front door. “I kind of forgot,” she added.

      “Damn it, Julia, what’s going on here?” George demanded. Nearing forty, George Abbot was not only Julia’s boss at Abbot Air Transport, but also her friend. They’d tried dating a while ago. They’d tried hard. But George had pointed out that anything special between a man and a woman shouldn’t take so much effort and they’d gone back to being friends. It had been a profound relief to Julia, who had to admit to herself that what George represented to her was a father figure, not a lover.

      “Did the police—”

      “Grill me like I was a common criminal? Yes, they did,” George said. “Who would impersonate me and pretend to be your fiancé? Where’d they get that? I think the cops are still watching me. There’s a patrol car in your neighborhood. I passed it coming in—”

      “They’re just watching the house. It has nothing to do with you. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you—”

      “Seems like you’ve been busy,” George said with a glance at Will.

      “It’s been quite a night,” she agreed. Would Will introduce himself to George? And if he did, would they then have to try to explain how he got here, why he wasn’t dead? Would George feel honor-bound to tell the police—

      “Good thing I had an alibi,” George added. “Been with Barbara all day. Her and her girls. Amber is on a basketball team. Tournament today. Just got home a little while ago and there were the cops, waiting for me.”

      Julia refrained from apologizing again. George was perturbed. She didn’t blame him. Barbara was the new love of his life and he was crazy about her preteen daughters as well. It СКАЧАТЬ