The Missing Heir

Two

Amber couldn’t wait to get out of the ballroom. Her first choice on a Saturday night was to stay home with Zachary, tucked in her jammies with a cup of hot chocolate and an old movie. But she was the closest thing there was to a member of the Henderson family, and somebody had to graciously accept the pilots association’s thanks.

Unlike her sister, Coco, Amber never attended highbrow events. Consequently, everything she wore tonight was new. Her feet were killing her in the ridiculous high heels. Her push-up bra was digging into her ribs, the lace scratching her skin. And the tight dress, chosen by Destiny, who insisted it was perfect, was restricting her movements so that she couldn’t even cross her legs under the table.

The MC ended a string of thank-yous with a request for applause to compliment the catering staff. As the clapping died down, the music came up, signaling the start of the dance.

Amber breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left was to politely make her way toward the exit, find a cab and get home. She stood, tucking her tiny purse under her arm.

A fiftysomething woman she vaguely recognized grasped her hand to shake it. “Lovely speech, Ms. Welsley. Lovely speech.”

“Thank you.”

The woman’s expression turned serious. “Even in such tragic circumstances, the Henderson family is having a positive impact on the community.”

“Samuel was a very generous man,” Amber responded by rote, though she had her own private thoughts on Samuel’s character, most particularly his decision to marry her beautiful, impetuous, nineteen-year-old stepsister.

Amber had initially kept her distance from the couple, regretting many times the decision to bring Coco to the company party where the two had met. But then Coco had become pregnant, and Amber had been drawn back into the drama of Coco’s life.

“Excuse me, Ms. Welsley,” came a male voice.

The woman seemed reluctant to step back to give way.

“Good evening.” Amber smiled at the new man, taking his offered hand, mentally calculating how long it would take her to run the gauntlet to the exit. It would be an hour or more at this pace. She truly didn’t think she could stand that long in these shoes. For a nonsensical moment, she pictured herself toppling over onto the ballroom floor.

“I’m Kevin Mathews from Highbush Unlimited. I wonder if I might give you my card.”

Amber kept her smile in place. “Certainly, Mr. Mathews.”

He dug into his inside pocket for a business card. “We’re a charitable organization, focused on environmental rehabilitation, primarily in the northwest. I know a lot about Mr. Henderson and Coast Eagle, and I can’t help imagining that he would have been a supporter of the environmental rehabilitation.”

Amber doubted that Samuel had given much thought to the environment, since he flew around in a private jet, air-conditioned the heck out of his mansion and owned several gas-guzzling luxury cars.

But she took the card the man offered. “I’d be happy to pass this along to Coast Eagle’s Community Outreach Unit.”

His expression faltered. “If you have some time now, I could outline for you our—”

“There you are,” came a deeper male voice. “I believe it’s time for our dance.”

Cole Parker appeared by her side, his arm held out, a broad smile on his face.

Amber couldn’t tell if he was rescuing her or about to pitch something himself. But she quickly estimated that the dance floor was more than halfway to the exit. That was progress. She returned his smile and took his arm.

“Please excuse me,” she said to Kevin.

Kevin’s expression faltered, but he had little choice but to let her go.

Cole guided her through the crowd, keeping their pace brisk enough to discourage the people who looked as though they might approach. It was hard on her feet, particularly her baby toes, but there was no option but to keep walking. Gradually, the crowd thinned near the dance floor.

“Am I out of the frying pan and into the fire?” she asked him.

“I’m not hitting you up for a donation, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good to hear.” She wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he was persistent enough that he had to be after something.

“I brought you a gift,” he told her.

“Bribery? That’s a bit blatant, don’t you think?”

“I believe in getting straight to the point.” He lifted his palm.

She glanced down, squinting. “You bought me a pair of...socks?”

“Dancing slippers. I got them from a vending machine in the lobby.” He glanced down at her black-and-gold four-inch heels. “Unless I miss my guess, those are two-hour shoes.”

She grimaced. “Is that what they call them?” It was an apt name.

She knew she should be suspicious of his motives, but she couldn’t help but feel grateful.

“Over here.” He pointed to a couple of empty chairs at the edge of the dance floor. “Have a seat.”

She eased down, deciding to accept the gift and remove the torture chambers from her feet. How much could she possibly be indebted to him for a pair of vending-machine dancing slippers?

She unbuckled the straps and slipped her feet free.

“I went with medium.” He handed her the black-satin, ballet-style slippers.

Slipping them onto her feet, she nearly groaned out loud. “They’re so soft.”

He bent to pick up her shiny heels, dangling them from his fingertips for a moment before setting them down. “These are ridiculous.”

She rose with him. “This is an important event for Coast Eagle. And Destiny says they make my calves look longer.”

“Your calves are already the perfect length.” He set the shoes on the chair.

“You’re not even looking at them.”

“I can tell by your height.” He offered his arm again. “Shall we?”

“I suppose it’s the least I can do, since you saved my feet. But you have to make me a promise.”

“Sure.”

She took his arm. “After the dance, walk me to the exit.” She glanced discreetly around. “For some reason, nobody’s bothering me when I’m with you.”

“Were they bothering you before?”

“All evening long.” She’d never experienced anything like it. “Donations, jobs and pictures. Why on earth would anybody want their picture taken with me?”

“Because you’re beautiful?” He drew her into his arms.

“Ha, ha.” Coco had been beautiful. Amber was, well, sensible. She was very sensible.

Not that sensible was a bad thing. And she truly didn’t mind her looks. Her eyes were a pleasant shade of blue. Her nose wasn’t too big. Her hair was slightly curly and had its good days and bad days. Today it had been tamed by a team of professionals, so it looked pretty good. She had to say, though, she wasn’t crazy about the sticky feeling from all the products they’d used at Chez Philippe.

“I wasn’t joking,” said Cole.

“We both know you’ve got a lot of ground to make up for from earlier,” she said, settling into the rhythm of the music.

“True,” he agreed.

“So anything you say or do is suspect.”

“You’re pretty tough to compliment, you know that?”

“There’s no need. I’m over the fact that you didn’t like Samuel.”

He paused as if weighing his next words. “You’re a very good dancer.”

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. She’d certainly never spent much time perfecting dance steps. Was he trying to kowtow, or was he simply making small talk? Or maybe he was just getting off the topic of Samuel.

“So are you,” she answered neutrally. “I can’t remember where you said you were from.”

“Alaska. Are you changing the subject?”

“From me to you? Yes. You’re about out of things to compliment. Unless you like my hair.”

“I like your hair.”

“Good. It cost a lot of money to get it this way. Now back to you.”

“Aviation 58 is in Juneau. The state capital. It’s on the panhandle.”

“You’re a pilot?”

“I am. I’m also one of the owners of the airline.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

Coast Eagle flew to Seattle and California, but they didn’t venture into the north. “We’re regional.”

She tipped her head back to look at him. “And what brought you to Atlanta, Cole Parker?”

He gave a small shrug. “It’s December. Have you seen a weather report for Alaska?”

“Not recently. Maybe never.”

“It’s cold up there.”

“So you’re on vacation?”

“For a few days, yes.”

For the first time, she allowed herself to take a good look at his face. She realized he was an astonishingly handsome man, deep gray eyes, a straight nose, square chin, all topped with thick, dark hair, cut short and neat. She couldn’t detect aftershave or shampoo, but there was something fresh and clean about his scent.

He was probably six-two. His shoulders were square, body fit and trim. And his big, square hands seemed strong and capable where they held her. In a flash, she realized she was attracted to him.

“Amber?” His deep voice startled her. That sound was another thing she liked about him.

“Yes?”

“I asked if there was anything in particular we should see.”

Had he? How had she missed that?

She quickly corralled her thoughts. “The botanical gardens are beautiful. Or you can do outdoor ice-skating. My favorite is Atlantic Station. A little shopping, a little Christmas-light gazing, some hot chocolate.” She couldn’t help thinking about Zachary and the Christmas events he might enjoy as he got older.

She’d easily come to love seeing him every day. He was a bit fussy in the evenings, but the poor little guy had been through a lot. His mother and father were both gone, and he had no way of knowing why it was happening.

She was doing her best to substitute. And she’d wrapped her head around the possibility of raising a baby. Though she couldn’t yet imagine her life with a child, a school-age child, then a teenager, then a young man. When she thought that far ahead, she feared she wasn’t capable of pulling it off. But she knew she had to come through for him. She was all he had.

She felt a sudden urge to rush home and hold him in her arms, reassure him that she’d figure it out.

“Are we close to the exit?” she asked Cole, thinking she could slip out and get herself home.

“I’ll dance you over there,” said Cole. “Tired?”

“Partly. But this isn’t exactly my thing.”

“I thought the über-rich thrived on fresh crab, Belgian torte and champagne.”

“I’m not über-rich.” Though she could understand how he would make that mistake. Lately, everybody seemed to assume that guardianship of Zachary made her an instant billionaire. It was far more complicated than that.

“Right,” he drawled.

She didn’t want to have this debate. “Thank you for the dance, Cole.”

His expression turned serious. “I did it again, didn’t I? Stuffed my foot in my mouth?”

“Not at all. I am tired, and I really appreciate you escorting me across the ballroom. It was going to take hours at the rate I was going.”

“I’ll get you to the front doors,” he offered.

“That’s not necessary.”

“It’s my pleasure.” His hand dropped to the small of her back. “I’ll glower at anyone who tries to talk to us along the way.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. And, to be truthful, it did seem like a prudent course of action. The lobby and foyer were full of people. Her name and face had been in the news for the past three weeks, so she was easily recognized.

“Then, thank you,” she told him.

“Let’s go.”

He picked up the pace, drawing her across the mezzanine floor lobby and down two sets of elevators. People stared as they passed but didn’t approach them. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he’d consider a permanent gig as her escort. This was certainly more pleasant than her trek into the event.

“The doorman will get me a cab,” she told Cole as they came to the glass front.

“No need. I have a car right here.”

“Cole—”

“And a driver,” he finished, moving through the front door. “I’m not plotting to get you alone. I’ll get you home safe and sound, nothing else.”

As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she felt its cold hardness through the dancing slippers, and her memory kicked in. “My shoes.” She turned. “I left my shoes upstairs.”

“I’ll go back for them,” he offered. “You don’t need to walk all that way again.”

“Taxi, sir?” the doorman inquired.

“I’ve got a car waiting,” Cole answered, handing the man a tip. “A sedan for Aviation 58.”

“I’ll have it brought around,” the doorman answered.

“I can’t take your car,” said Amber. How had this gotten so complicated?

“Where are you going?” asked Cole.

“Fifth Avenue and Eighty-Ninth.”

“It’ll only take ten minutes to get you there.”

A black car pulled up in front of them and Cole opened the door.

Amber decided to go with the flow. The sooner she got going, the sooner she’d be home with Zachary. She climbed in, and Cole shut the door behind her.

But before they pulled away, he surprised her by hopping in the other side.

“I thought you were going back for my shoes.”

“I’ll do that after we get you home. Fifth Avenue and Eighty-Ninth,” he said to the driver.

“That’s ridiculous.”

She couldn’t understand why he’d make the round trip for nothing. Unless he was worried she’d commandeer his car for a joyride. Though she doubted the driver would let her do that.

As they pulled out of the turnaround and onto the street, she clicked through other possibilities. He’d been intensely persistent, awfully complimentary and easy to get along with, and he’d stuck to her like glue. What could he be after?

And then it came to her. The man owned an airline, a small regional West Coast airline that was likely looking to expand. She instantly realized the vacation story was a cover. Cole was here to do business.

She angled herself in the seat, facing him. “You’re after our Pacific routes.”

“Excuse me?”

“I figured it out. You’re thinking Samuel’s death makes Coast Eagle vulnerable. You’re hoping we’ll be looking to downsize, and you think you can get your hands on the Pacific routes to expand Aviation 58.”

He stared at her for a long moment.

“You’ve been way too friendly,” she elaborated. “You overplayed your hand.”

“Maybe I’m simply attracted to you.”

She gazed down at the fancy dress. She did look better than usual, but Cole was still out of her league. “There were far more beautiful women at the event tonight.”

“I didn’t see them.” The sincerity in his expression was quite impressive.

“Nice try. It’s the routes.”

“You see that as the only possible explanation?”

“I do.”

“Then, I admit it. It’s the routes. Will you sell them to me?”

She leaned back in the seat. “I don’t know why everybody thinks I have so much power. I’m the assistant director of finance. There’s still a board of directors in place, and the vice presidents are in charge of operations until they name a new president.”

“But as Zachary’s guardian, you control board appointments.”

“Theoretically.”

If she kept custody of Zachary, that would be true. But before that could ever happen, she had a big fight with Roth on her hands.

“There’s nothing theoretical about it,” said Cole. “The board answers to the shareholders, and the president answers to the board, and everyone else answers to the president. You can do anything you want.”

“But I won’t. I have my own job at Coast Eagle, and I’m not about to muscle in on anyone else’s.”

“It’s your responsibility.” There was an unexpected hardness to Cole’s tone. “It’s your responsibility to Zachary to take control of the company.”

She turned to look at him again. “It’s my responsibility to Zachary to ensure the company is well run. That doesn’t mean I make any particular decision.”

His dark eyes were implacable. “Yes, it does.”

“Well, Mr. Cole Parker, owner of Aviation 58 in Alaska, you are certainly entitled to your opinion. And I’m more than entitled to ignore it.”

He opened his mouth but then obviously thought better of speaking.

The car came to a halt at the curb.

“The Newmont Building?” the driver asked. “Or are you in Sutten’s Edge?”

“This is it,” said Amber, feeling anxious to get away. “Joyce Roland is the director of planning,” she said to Cole. “You can ask her about the Pacific routes, but she may not take your call.”

The driver had come around and now swung open her door.

“Thank you for the ride. Good night, Cole.”

A small smile played on his lips. “You’re very polite.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Good night, Amber. Thank you for the dance.”

A sudden rush of warmth enveloped her, and she found her gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips. For a fleeting second, she imagined him kissing her good-night.

She shook away the wayward feeling and quickly exited the car. Zachary was upstairs waiting, and Roth was in the wings with a team of high-priced lawyers. Amber didn’t have time for kisses or fantasies or anything else.

* * *

Cole advanced through the hotel lobby, heading for the escalators that would take him back to the ballroom.

It didn’t take him long to spot Luca coming the other way, a pretty blond woman at his side.

“There you are,” said Luca as they met. “I wondered what had happened to you.”

“I left something in the ballroom,” said Cole.

“This is Destiny Frost. Turns out, she’s a friend of Amber Welsley.” Luca’s expression was inscrutable.

Cole played along, pretending Luca hadn’t planned to meet Destiny. “Nice to meet you.” He offered his hand.

She shook, and hers was slim and cool. “It’s a pleasure.”

“I offered Destiny a ride home,” said Luca. “You coming with us?” His expression told Cole a third wheel would not be particularly welcome.

Cole tipped his chin toward the escalator. “I have to grab something upstairs. Can you swing back and get me later?”

Luca gave a satisfied smile. “Will do.”

“Luca says you’re from Alaska?” asked Destiny.

“We are,” Cole replied.

“I’ve never been there.”

“It’s beautiful, magnificent.”

“It must be cold.”

Luca stepped in. “I’ve already offered to keep her warm.”

Destiny smiled and shook her head. “He’s shameless.”

“But harmless,” said Cole, intending to be reassuring, but also being honest. Luca was a perfect gentleman.

“I’ll text you on the way back?” asked Luca.

“Sounds good.” With a nod to both of them, Cole headed for the escalator.

He was going against the crowd, most people on their way out of the event. So he easily made it to the ballroom and headed for the chair where they’d parked Amber’s shoes.

To his surprise, they were gone.

“Seriously?” he muttered out loud.

He glanced around at the departing crowd. At an event this highbrow, somebody was going to steal a pair of shoes?

Then he caught a glint of gold in one of the waiter’s hands. He squinted. It was definitely Amber’s shoes. The man was headed toward a side exit.

Cole made a beeline after him, feeling better about human nature. The waiter obviously thought they’d been abandoned and was taking them to the hotel’s lost and found.

Cole wound his way through the tables and took the same exit, coming out into a long dim hallway. One direction obviously led to the kitchen, the other down a narrow flight of stairs. It seemed unlikely that the lost and found was in the kitchen, so he took the stairs.

At the bottom, he spotted the guy about thirty yards away. He called out, and the man turned.

“The shoes,” called Cole.

Before he could say anything more, the man bolted, running a few steps before shoving open a side exit.

“Are you kidding me?” Cole shouted, breaking into a run.

He burst through the side door, finding himself in an alley. He quickly scanned the area and spotted the guy at a run. He sprinted after the man. When he caught up, he grasped the guy’s left arm and spun him around, bringing him to a sliding halt.

“What’s going on?” Cole gasped. “You’re stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re my girlfriend’s.” The man was gasping for breath.

“They’re my girlfriend’s.” As he spoke, Cole couldn’t help but take note of the man’s unshaven face, and the rather wild look in his eyes. “You’re not a waiter.”

The man reached in his pants pocket and pulled a knife, flicking open a six-inch blade and holding it menacingly out in front of him.

“They’re shoes,” said Cole, adrenaline rushing into his bloodstream. Admittedly, they were nice shoes. And given the Hendersons’ wealth, they were likely ridiculously expensive. But what could they possibly bring this guy on the black market?

The man snarled. “Do yourself a favor and walk away.”

No way was that happening. Cole was returning Amber’s property to her. “Give me the shoes.”

“You want to get hurt?”

Suddenly, a low growl sounded next to Cole. His skin prickled, and he glanced cautiously down. But the mangy dog was staring at the man with the knife. It didn’t seem to be threatening Cole.

“He’ll go for your throat,” Cole lied.

The man glanced furtively at the dog.

The dog growled again.

“Drop the knife, or he’ll attack.”

The man hesitated, and the dog took a step forward. The knife clattered to the ground, along with the shoes, and the man took two rapid steps backward. Then he spun around and ran.

Cole took in the medium-size dog that was now wagging its tail, obviously feeling proud of himself.

“Good job,” he told the mutt, patting its head, finding sticky, matted fur.

He looked closer and realized the animal was painfully thin. It had a wiry, mottled coat, mostly tan, but black on the ears and muzzle. Its brown eyes looked world-weary and exhausted.