“I do not have, nor do I require, a reservation.”

The crackling, irate voice stopped Coco in her tracks. The becoming flush in her cheeks faded to a dead white.

“Dear God, no. It can't be.”

“Coco?” Megan took a firmer grip on Coco's arm. She felt the tremor and wondered if she could hold the woman up if she fainted.

“Young man.” The voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Do you know who I am?”

“Aunt Colleen,” Coco said in a shaky whisper. She let go one last shuddering moan, drew in a bracing breath, then walked bravely into the lobby. “Aunt Colleen,” she said in an entirely different tone. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Shock, you mean.” Colleen accepted her niece's kiss, then rapped her cane on the floor. She was tall, thin as a rail and formidable as iron in a raw-silk suit and pearls as white as her hair. “I see you've filled the place with strangers. Better to have it burned to the ground. Tell this insolent boy to have my bags taken up.”

“Of course.” Coco gestured for a bellman herself. “In the family wing, second floor, first room on the right,” she instructed.

“And don't toss those bags around, boy.” Colleen leaned on her gold-tipped cane and studied Megan, “Who's this?”

“You remember Megan, Aunt Colleen. Sloan's sister? You met at Amanda's wedding.”

“Yes, yes.” Colleen's eyes narrowed, measured, “Got a son, don't you?” Colleen knew all there was to know about Kevin. Had made it her business to know.

“Yes, I do. It's nice to see you again, Miss Calhoun.”

“Ha. You'd be the only one of this lot who thinks so.” Ignoring them both, she walked to Bianca's portrait, studied it and the emeralds glistening in their case. She sighed, but so quietly no one could hear.

“I want brandy, Cordelia, before I take a look at what you've done to this place.”

“Of course. We'll just go into the family wing. Megan, please, join us.” It was impossible to deny the plea in Coco's eyes.

A few moments later, they had settled into the family parlor. Here, the wallpaper was still faded, peeling in spots. There were scars on the floor in front of the fireplace where errant embers had seared and burned.

“Nothing's changed here, I see.” Colleen sat like a queen in a wing chair.

“We've concentrated on the hotel wing.” Nervous and babbling, Coco poured brandy. “Now that it's done, we're beginning renovations. Two of the bedrooms are finished. And the nursery's lovely.”

“Humph.” She'd come specifically to see the children—and only secondarily to drive Coco mad.

“Where is everyone? I come to see my family and find nothing but strangers.”

“They'll be along. We're having a dinner party tonight, Aunt Colleen.” Coco kept the brilliant smile plastered on her face. “Trent's father's joining us for a few days.”

“Aging playboy,” Colleen mumbled into her brandy. “You.” She pointed at Megan. “Accountant, aren't you?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Megan's a whiz with figures,” Coco said desperately. “We're so grateful she's here. And Kevin, too, of course. He's a darling boy.”

“I'm talking to the girl, Cordelia. Go fuss in the kitchen.” “But-”

“Go on, go on.”

With an apologetic look for Megan, Coco fled. “The boy'll be nine soon?”

“Yes, in a couple of months.” She was prepared, braced, for a scathing comment on his lineage.

Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, Colleen nodded. “Get along with Suzanna's brood, does he?”

“Very well. They've rarely been apart since we arrived.” Megan did her best not to squirm. “It's been wonderful for him. And for me.”

“Dumont bothering you?”

Megan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don't be a fool, girl, I asked if that excuse for a human being has been bothering you.”

Megan's spine straightened like a steel rod. “No. I haven't seen or heard from Baxter since before Kevin was born.”

“You will.” Colken scowled and leaned forward. She wanted to get a handle on this Megan O'Riley. “He's been making inquiries.”

Megan's fingers clenched on the snifter of brandy. “I don't understand.”

“Poking his nose in, asking questions.” Colleen gave her cane an imperious thump.

“How do you know?”

“I keep my ear to the ground when it comes to family.” Eyes bright, Colleen waited for a reaction, got none. “You moved here, didn't you? Your son's been accepted as Alex and Jenny—and Christian's— brother.”

Ice was forming in Megan's stomach, thin, brittle strips of it. “That has nothing to do with him.”

“Don't be a fool. A man like Dumont thinks the world revolves around him. His eye's on politics, girl, and the way that particular circus is running, a few well-chosen words from you to the right reporter...” The idea was pleasant enough to make Colleen smile. “Well, his road to Washington would be a steeper climb.”

“I've no intention of going to the press, of exposing Kevin to public attention.”

“Wise.” Colleen sipped again. “A pity, but wise. You tell me if he tries anything. I'd like to tangle with him again.”

“I can handle it myself.”

Colleen lifted one snowy brow. “Perhaps you can.”


“How come I have to wear a dumb tie?” Kevin squirmed while Megan fumbled with the knot. Her fingers had been stiff and cold ever since her talk with Colleen.

“Because it's a special dinner and you need to look your best.” “Ties are stupid. I bet Alex doesn't have to wear a stupid tie.”

“I don't know what Alex is wearing,” Megan said, with the last of her patience. “But you're doing as you're told.”

The sharp tone, rarely heard, had his bottom lip poking out. “I'd rather have pizza.”

“Well, you're not having pizza. Damn it, Kevin, hold still!” “It's choking me.”

“I'm going to choke you in a minute.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and secured the knot. “There. You look very handsome.”

“I look like a dork.”

“Fine, you look like a dork. Now put your shoes on.”

Kevin scowled at the shiny black loafers. “I hate those shoes. I want to wear my sneakers.”

Exasperated, she leaned down until their faces were level. “Young man, you will put your shoes on, and you will watch your tone of voice. Or you'll find yourself in very hot water.”

Megan marched out of his room and across the hall to her own. Snatching her brush from the dresser, she began to drag it through her hair. She didn't want to go to the damn dinner party, either. The aspirin she'd downed an hour before hadn't even touched the splitting headache slicing through her skull. But she had to put on her party face and go down, pretend she wasn't terrified and angry and sick with worry over Baxter Dumont.

Colleen might be wrong, she thought. After all, it had been nearly a decade. Why would Baxter bother with her and Kevin now?

Because he wanted to be a United States senator. Megan closed her eyes.

She read the paper, didn't she? Baxter had already begun his campaign for the seat. And an illegitimate son, never acknowledged, hardly fit the straight-arrow platform he'd chosen.

“Mom.”

She saw Kevin's reflection in the mirror. His shoes were on—and his chin was on his chest. Guilt squeezed its sticky fingers around her heart. “Yes, Kevin.”

“How come you're so mad at everything?”

“I'm not.” Wearily she sat on the edge of the bed. “I've just got a little headache. I'm sorry I snapped at you.” She held out her arms, sighing when he filled them. “You're such a handsome dork, Kev.” When he laughed, she kissed the top of his head. “Let's go down. Maybe Alex and Jenny are here.”

They were, and Alex was just as disgusted with his tie as Kevin was with his. But there was too much going on for the boys to sulk for long. There were canape's to gobble, babies to play with and adventures to plan.

Everyone, naturally, was talking at once.

The volume in the room cut through Megan's aching head like a rusty saw. She accepted the flute of champagne Trenton II offered her, and did her best to pretend an interest in his flirtation. He was trim and tall and tanned, glossily handsome and charming. And Megan was desperately relieved when he turned his attentions on Coco.

“Make a nice couple, don't they?” Nathaniel murmured in her ear. “Striking.” She took a cube of cheese and forced it down.

“You don't look in the party mood, Meg.”

“I'm fine.” To distract him, she changed the subject. “You might be interested in what I think I might have walked in on this afternoon.”

“Oh?” Taking her arm, he steered her toward the open terrace doors. “Coco and Dutch.”

“Fighting again? Saucepans at twenty paces?”

“Not exactly.” She took a deep breath of air, hoping it would clear her head. “They were... at least I think they were...”

Nathaniel's brows shot up. He could fill in the blanks himself. “You're joking.”

“No. They were nose-to-nose, with their arms around each other.” She managed to smile even as she rubbed at the throbbing in her temple. “At my unexpected and ill-timed entrance, they jumped apart as if they'd been planning murder. And they were blushing. Both of them.”

“The Dutchman, blushing?” Nathaniel started to laugh, but it began to sink in. “Good God.”

“I think it's sweet.”

“Sweet.” He looked back inside, where Coco, regally elegant, was laughing over something Trenton had whispered in her ear. “She's out of his league. She'll break his heart.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say.” Lord, why didn't her head just fall off her shoulders and give her some relief? “Sporting events have leagues, not romances.”