Prologue
“Consider it done,” Mitch Kincaid said Sunday afternoon to the trio gathered around the Kincaid Manor dining-room table for the reading of his father’s will.
“Don’t make it sound easy. Nothing involving a woman ever is,” his older brother, Rand, warned.“Hey!” their younger sister, Nadia, protested.
Richards, the attorney, looked over his half-glasses at Mitch. “The child is your half brother and stands to inherit one quarter of your father’s estate. When billions of dollars are involved, unforeseen complications often arise.”
“Let me get this straight. I’m supposed to bring my father’s illegitimate son home to Kincaid Manor and keep him here for one year,” Mitch summarized the absurd scenario Richards had read moments ago. It didn’t sound any better now than it had then.
“That is correct. And if you fail to complete your task, you will also fail to inherit your share of Everett’s estate.” Richards paused to scan the three legitimate Kincaid offspring. “You all will. And everything Everett possessed will be sold to Kincaid Cruise Line’s chief rival for one dollar.”
Billions in assets and investments down the toilet. Fifty ships. Five more on order. Eight branded cruise lines under the Kincaid umbrella. Sixty thousand employees. All resting on Mitch’s shoulders.
He tried to shrug off the crushing weight. Kincaid Cruise Lines wasn’t just his job; it was his life, his wife, his mistress, his child. He wasn’t like his brother, who, if not for their father’s unexpected death three days ago, wouldn’t be in Miami now. Rand had walked away from the family and the business five years ago without looking back.
Mitch wouldn’t let KCL go without a fight. That meant not only did he have to accomplish his assigned task, but also he had to make damned sure each of his siblings held up their end of the inheritance obligations, too. Or lose everything.
Not gonna happen. Not on my watch.
He made a conscious effort to relax the hands he’d fisted. “What happens to the kid when the year is up?”
“That depends on who you want controlling his fortune until he reaches twenty-one. You or his aunt,” Richards replied.
“Not the aunt,” Mitch replied without hesitation and turned to his brother and sister. They hadn’t been privy to the latest complication of their father’s life or the cleanup detail Mitch had screwed up. No doubt that was why their father had assigned him babysitting duty. Punishment.
“The boy’s mother is dead and her twin sister is the kid’s guardian. I’m betting Carly Corbin is identical to her greedy, conniving twin in more than looks. She’s young and single. She’ll want to dump the kid. If she doesn’t, I’ll convince her.”
“How?” Rand asked.
“Money. I’ve never met a woman who didn’t have a price.” His comment elicited another indignant squawk from Nadia. “Dad instructed me to pay the boy’s mother a hundred grand to have an abortion—an abortion she obviously never had and managed to conceal from us or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Mitch’s first mistake had been to trust the woman when she’d accepted the money. He should have ensured she’d done what she’d been paid to do whether or not he’d approved of his father’s plan.
Rand’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure the little bastard is Dad’s?”
Mitch nodded. “A DNA test confirmed it.”
A familiar hard knot returned to Mitch’s chest. Their father had received the test results just days before the child’s mother had been killed in a hit-and-run accident while crossing the street. The driver and car responsible hadn’t been found.
He hoped like hell his father hadn’t had a part in the woman’s death. But Everett Kincaid had never liked playing by any rules other than his own. No one knew that better than Mitch—his father’s right-hand man.
Nadia nervously tapped her nails on the table, anxious no doubt to hear her inheritance requirement. “Ignoring your incredibly sexist remarks and assuming Ms. Corbin hands over—what is our brother’s name?” She glanced at her copy of the will. “Rhett. Oh, I get it. Ever-Rhett. After Dad. Cute. What do you know about taking care of a one-year-old?”
Mitch knew more than Nadia thought. But he wasn’t going there. Ever again. “I don’t need to know anything. I’ll hire a nanny. The manor’s large enough I’ll never have to see the brat.”
He aligned his pen beside the thick pile of pages constituting the will. “I’ll have him installed in the nursery by the end of the month. Before year’s end, I’ll have guardianship and the aunt will be history. Bank on it.”
One
A pricey pewter-colored SUV blocked Carly’s driveway Monday evening.
She maneuvered the stroller around the big bumper and glanced at her house. The setting sun’s slanted rays revealed an equally expensive-looking man on her porch swing. If he was the dishwasher repairman she’d called this morning, then she seriously needed to consider changing occupations because appliance repair paid better than physical therapy.He rose as she turned up the walk, unfolding a tall and broad-shouldered frame beneath a black suit and pale yellow shirt and knotted black patterned tie. Short dark hair swept back from his forehead, and as she drew nearer she noticed the intense green eyes set beneath thick eyebrows in a gorgeous face. The kind of face that could launch a thousand sexual fantasies.
Despite the oppressive June heat and Miami humidity, he looked fresh from the boardroom while she dripped with sweat. And he had the successful and affluent thing going for him which meant he was probably one of Marlene’s men.
Sadness slammed Carly like a rogue wave and sucked at her footsteps, tugging her into a riptide of grief. Maybe he didn’t know Marlene was…
Carly swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
Gone. Her twin was gone. Forever. And all Carly had left of Marlene was her sister’s precious baby boy.
She blinked at the sting of tears. When her vision cleared, she registered that this guy was young. Early thirties. Her sister had preferred wealthy men, specifically wealthy older men. Like Everett Kincaid. Rhett’s daddy.
As if her nephew knew Carly was thinking about the father he’d never met and now never would meet, Rhett let loose a string of one-year-old babble.
God, she loved him. He was so darned adorable she wanted to snatch him up and hug him until he squealed. Hug him like she’d never hugged her own daughter. She tamped down that disturbing thought.
Rhett would get his cuddle, but first she had to deal with her visitor. “Can I help you?”
“Carly Corbin?” His voice was deep, polished, clipped. He descended the porch stairs to join her on the sidewalk and his eyes raked over her, making her conscious of her faded, skimpy running shorts, sweat-dampened T-shirt and stringy ponytail.
She had to tip her head back to look into his face. “Who’s asking?”
“I’m Mitch Kincaid.”
Anger flashed through Carly. So this was the jerk who’d done everything he could to break up her sister and Everett and who’d later tried to bully Marlene into having an abortion. It was because of his pestering that Marlene had given up her luxury apartment and moved in with Carly.
She’d heard about Everett’s older children from Marlene. Fear expanded in her chest, crowding out the anger. God help her if the Kincaids ever found out about Marlene’s plot to snare Everett. Carly was terrified they would use it to take Rhett from her.
But they won’t find out. You burned Marlene’s journal. Nobody but you knows and you’re not telling.
She dampened her suddenly dry lips. “And?”
“I’m here to meet…my brother. Is that him?” His narrowed gaze swept Rhett from his shock of baby-fine dark hair to his drool-covered grinning face to his chubby knees and double-knotted sneakers.
“Half brother,” she corrected. “And, yes. This is Rhett.”
Mitch’s surprise-widened eyes found hers. “He looks like a Kincaid.”
“Did you think Marlene lied?”
“DNA proved she didn’t.” His bitter tone indicated displeasure over that circumstance. “May I come in?”
Carly truly believed in close-knit family ties and wanted those for Rhett, but something was off here. Rhett’s handsome half brother hadn’t squatted down to the child’s level or even spoken to him directly. That made her uneasy.
“Maybe another time. I need to feed Rhett, give him his bath and get him ready for bed.”
“It’s about Rhett’s inheritance.”
She bit her lip. Marlene hadn’t had life insurance. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t believed she needed it. Neither of them had. Carly made a decent salary, but the burial costs, child care and car and house payments consumed most of her income. She didn’t know how she’d sock money away for Rhett’s college education. “Everett provided for him?”
Kincaid’s sexy full lips flattened and his eyes hardened. “Conditionally.”
“Up. Up.” Rhett held up his arms and squirmed to get out of the stroller.
Carly unbuckled him and lifted his warm, wiggly little body against hers. She held him tight and savored his sweet baby smell. “What do you mean conditionally?”
“Perhaps we could discuss my father’s will while you feed the boy.”
The boy. Kincaid hadn’t even made eye contact with the boy.
Carly wanted Rhett to have everything a growing child needed, and she’d like for him to get to know his half siblings—just in case something ever happened to her. Marlene’s death had been a shocking and sudden reminder that bad and unexpected things did happen. That meant she had to deal with Rhett’s handsome half brother sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.
“Okay. But I’m warning you now that you need to shuck your designer suit jacket.”
“I’m not going to feed him.”
She ought to make him. Just for fun. She fought a smile and lost. “If you’re in the same room, you need to be dressed for feeding time. It gets messy.”
The intense green gaze locked on her face for several seconds, and his eyes met and held hers. Something deep inside Carly tingled. She squashed the fizzy feeling, pivoted quickly and jogged up the stairs. Her hand wasn’t quite steady as she unlocked the front door, then gestured for him to follow her inside.
He’d removed his coat while she wasn’t looking, and even though she’d told him to, now she wished he hadn’t. Those wide shoulders hadn’t been an illusion created by an excellent tailor. She’d bet he had washboard abs under that shirt and long, corded muscles beneath his knife-edged creased trousers. She worked with enough athletes to recognize and admire peak physical conditioning when she saw it.
She led the way through the house, leaving her unwanted guest to shut the door and follow. Or not. In the kitchen she washed Rhett’s hands, strapped him into his high chair and poured a sprinkling of Cheerios on his tray to keep him occupied while she prepared his dinner.