“Just when did you or any other Corwin become advocates for love and marriage?” The minute the words escaped, Mike wished he could take them back.
Love?
Whoa.
Who’d said anything about love? He had, obviously, but it wasn’t what he’d meant. And though Jason looked at him funny, he wisely remained silent, leaving well enough alone.
“Earth to Mike,” the other man said at last. “I asked if you’d be leaving for Stewart soon?”
Mike shook his head. “Nope. There’s no reason. Right now Amber is in good hands and I have to work.” And not put himself in temptation’s path.
Jason snorted. “Yeah, you’re right. Uncle Edward is more than capable of taking care of Amber if this King Bobby character shows up. Unless you already know where to find him?” he pointedly asked.
Rhetorical question, Mike thought.
Short of an APB, he had no choice but to wait for the man to rear his large cowboy hat. Mike glanced at his cousin. “You said the press is already in town?” he asked.
“’Fraid so. Asking questions about the Corwin clan.”
“Which ups the chances of the Texan showing up in Stewart rather than Boston,” Mike said.
“Where, with a few targeted questions, he’ll end up at Uncle Edward’s at some point.” Jason shot him a regretful glance. “I was just buying myself some time. I’m sorry, man,” Jason said.
Mike groaned, picked up the phone and bargained for more personal time, promising his superior his firstborn, should he ever have one, in exchange for this being the last—if open-ended—time off for a long, long time.
Then, with Jason’s laughter and “I told you so” ringing in his ears, Mike headed back to Stewart and his hot babe of a wife.
MIKE ARRIVED at his father’s house feeling out of breath, though he’d had an hour in the car to unwind. But once he let himself think about the press swarming his hometown, he’d had an uneasy feeling that things were about to blow up.
“Dad!” Mike yelled as he stormed into the house.
“We’re in here,” Edward called.
Mike exhaled a long breath. Relieved, he took the steps two at a time—to find his father and Clara in the kitchen. “I thought…” Mike trailed off. “Where’s Amber?” he asked instead.
“Haven’t seen her. Not that I’ve had time to do anything more than listen to this woman’s yammering on about the past. Like I still care.”
A smile spread over Clara’s face. “Did you hear that? He admitted he once cared!”
“Ms. Deveaux, have you seen Amber?” Mike asked.
“This morning, when I arrived and then again during lunch. But not since, now that you mention it.” Clara’s brows furrowed.
“She’s not in the garage or the boathouse. I just came from there,” Edward said.
Clara walked to the sink and poured Edward water, though he hadn’t asked for any.
He accepted it and took a sip.
Mike shook his head. The connection between these two was the strangest thing he’d ever seen.
“Amber knows better than to wander off until her trouble’s resolved, doesn’t she?” Clara asked.
Mike sure as hell hoped so, considering he’d clearly instructed her to stay put.
“Amber told you about King Bobby?” Mike asked Clara.
He was surprised Amber would confide in a stranger about her problems, but then, she probably no longer considered Clara a stranger. Amber had an uncanny knack for bonding with people she’d just met. Like him, Mike thought, recalling their initial meeting in Vegas. The memory of that black dress and her curls hanging down her back set his body on fire all over again. When he got his hands on her…