For Her Son's Love. Kathryn Springer

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СКАЧАТЬ chair, her bare feet propped up on the desk. At nine o’clock in the morning.

      He coughed lightly.

      Rachel’s body jerked and she bolted upright, wide awake.

      “Andrew!”

      With a cry of delight, Rachel pushed herself out of the chair and waddled into his arms. “What are you doing here? The baby isn’t due for another few months. Or are you planning to pull another one of your famous disappearing acts on us again?”

      Andrew planted a kiss on her cheek, not missing the purple shadows under her eyes and the lines of fatigue bracketing her mouth. Guilt kicked in as he realized his aunt hadn’t exaggerated Rachel’s condition. He didn’t know anything about pregnant women, but even to his inexperienced eyes she looked completely worn out.

      He decided honesty was the best policy.

      “I’m here to take over the Noble Foundation. By force, if necessary, but I’m hoping these roses will do the trick.”

      Rachel accepted the bouquet, her expression wry. “You heard.”

      Andrew sauntered over to the leather chair and sat down. “Word on the street is that you haven’t been feeling well.”

      “I should have known. Our mothers are ganging up on me and they sent you to do their dirty work.” Rachel crossed her arms over her bulging abdomen. “It’s just normal pregnancy stuff. I am carrying the equivalent of an airline-approved carry-on around my middle.”

      Andrew just looked at her until she gave an irritated little huff. “You can lower that arrogant eyebrow of yours. I admit it. Dr. Bingham is a little concerned about the swelling in my hands and feet. Overly concerned, if you ask me. He and Eli are friends, so…” Her eyes narrowed. “Did Eli call you?”

      “I plead the Fifth.” Andrew grinned. “I received an order from the top to take control of things here while you go home, put your feet up and watch the cooking channel.”

      Rachel scowled.

      “Or knit baby booties.”

      The flash of longing in her eyes surprised him. “I don’t knit.”

      “You don’t cook, either, but that hasn’t stopped you from trying to master it. For the past two years.”

      “Did I ever tell you that you’re my favorite cousin? Because if I did, I take it back. And all the other nice things I might have said to inflate your already enormous ego—”

      The intercom interrupted her. Rachel reached for the phone but Andrew beat her to it. “What’s your secretary’s name?”

      “Zoe.” Rachel tried to pluck the phone out of his hand.

      “Andrew Noble.” He winced as a high-pitched squeak pinched his eardrum. Probably because he’d managed to sneak in when she’d abandoned her post. “What can I do for you, Zoe?”

      Rachel attempted another hostile takeover so Andrew swiveled the chair around. “Tell Mr. Chrone I’ll be the one meeting with him tomorrow morning about the estate. That’s right. Me.” Andrew hung up the phone and faced his cousin again. “Why are you still here?”

      “What did they bribe you with to come to Chestnut Grove?” Rachel demanded. “Virginia is a long way from Rhode Island. Whatever it was, I’ll double it if you leave quietly.”

      “No one bribed me.” Andrew shrugged. “I’m the only one in the family who leads the kind of wastrel existence that allows me to take over a huge charitable organization without advanced notice. Not that I’m not qualified to spend other people’s money. I’ve been doing that with Great-Grandpa’s trust fund for years.”

      The flicker of sadness in Rachel’s eyes scraped against Andrew’s conscience. She might not listen to the gossip but she read the papers. There was no getting around the fact that, over the years, his reputation as an irresponsible playboy had stained the fabric of the Noble family. Still, they’d remained stubbornly loyal to him. Especially Rachel.

      Sending up a prayer for forgiveness, he used that loyalty to his advantage. “Unless you don’t trust me?”

      She rolled her eyes. “Please. Your smile will probably raise more money in a day than I could in a month. It’s just that…there’s no reason for all this fuss. I’m fine.”

      Andrew might have believed her if she hadn’t ended the sentence by yawning.

      “You don’t have to prove anything, Rachel. Let me take care of the Foundation while you take care of yourself and the baby. If Bingham gives you the green light to keep working, I’ll abdicate the throne.” He patted the leather armrests on the chair. “I promise.”

      Because he expected round two, the sudden relief in her eyes stunned him.

      “Fine. You win. You can even move into my loft if you need a place to stay. And come for dinner—”

      Andrew had tasted Rachel’s cooking, and she was more gifted in the boardroom than she was the kitchen. “The Starlight Diner is just down the street.”

      He laughed when Rachel glowered at him.

      “If you need anything—”

      “I’ll ask Zoe.”

      “Mr. Chrone—”

      “Collects baseball cards and raises African Violets,” Andrew finished.

      “All right.” She didn’t move.

      Andrew arched a brow. “Now what do you need?”

      She grinned and wiggled her bare toes in the carpet. “My shoes. They’re under the desk.”

      “Billionaire bachelor alert.” Miranda Jones looked up as Darcy, the young waitress who shared the breakfast and lunch shift with her at the Starlight Diner, swept into the kitchen and gave her a teasing grin. “And he’s sitting in your section. Again.”

      Andrew Noble.

      Miranda’s concentration dissolved. If a list of the world’s most eligible bachelors existed, Andrew’s name probably appeared at the top of it. The Noble family was the equivalent of American royalty and Andrew, the prince. The media loved him, even if all they could report were the details of his latest adventure in some exotic locale or the name of the woman who happened to be at his side for one of the Noble Foundation’s many fund-raising events.

      He’d come into the diner earlier in the week and Miranda guessed he was visiting his cousin, Rachel Cavanaugh. Why he’d chosen the Starlight instead of one of Richmond’s swanky, award-winning restaurants, she had no idea. And now he was back. Three days later.

      “You can wait on him,” she murmured. “I have to deliver this order to the boys at table five before they waste away.”

      Darcy’s gum snapped in surprise, but then she grinned. “I’m not going to turn down that tip. Or the chance to stare into those dreamy eyes.” She sighed dramatically and put one hand over her heart.

      “What СКАЧАТЬ