The child squealed excitedly as a young woman, presumably the nanny Dalton had told Kira about, followed on his heels. He raced to the other side of the yard and tossed the ball into the air.
“Catch it, catch it,” he hollered.
The woman waited for it to bounce off the ground, retrieved it and tossed it to him. He caught it and ran past her to the other side of the yard.
“He’s adorable,” Kira commented.
“He’s three and a half, just got potty trained and loves the Jungle Book movie.”
Kira nodded and cleared her throat nervously. Dalton could see the tears welling in her eyes and reached for a box of tissues. He placed it on the console between them and waited until she’d removed one.
Grayson slipped into the yard and stole the football, tossing it to the girl at the other end.
“Okay, Remy, are you ready to catch it again?” she asked.
Kira silently reached for Dalton’s hand. “His name isn’t Brandon?”
“No.”
“But you said you were sure.” Her eyes darted to his, searching.
“I am sure. DNA test came back positive. Lacey said that Josh would usually take a business trip once a month. Be gone for four or five days in a row. It appeared normal to her, and what she did question, she wrote off, because he’d supposedly lost his wife when Brandon was born. Let’s go meet him so you can decide for yourself.”
Kira leaned over and pressed her lips to his. “I love you.” Dalton kissed her soundly, wiping the tears from one cheek with his thumb.
“I love you, too. Remember, we’re a family. All the way. All of us.” He waited for her to make the next move. She flipped the visor down and opened the mirror. After dabbing away the moisture beneath her eyes, she tossed the tissue aside and squared her shoulders.
“Okay, then. Let’s go play ball with our son.”
Epilogue
Kira shifted on the front porch swing as she watched Dalton and Brandon playing catch. Dalton had started out a few weeks ago with real baseball equipment and then quickly switched to a sponge ball and plastic bat. Poor Brandon had gotten her nonathletic genes, but bless his heart, he wasn’t giving up on copying everything Dalton did.
They’d spent a week together in Raleigh, North Carolina, at the house where Brandon had lived since he was born. His nanny, Lacey, did a wonderful job of keeping Brandon’s routine in place while Kira and Dalton learned everything they could about his life. She’d answered an online ad for a widower needing full-time care for a newborn and had been with Brandon ever since.
Dalton immediately started proceedings to get Kira’s son returned to her, and to change his name. Rembrandt Griffin would have been a horrible reminder to them all of the years they’d missed together. She’d been willing to keep the nickname Remy—as his nanny called him—but her son said he liked Brandon better.
Kira sniffled, but fought the urge to cry. She’d shed way too many tears already, but when she thought she’d gotten beyond the grief of losing her baby, something else would happen to stir the pot.
After weighing the pros and cons, she and Dalton had decided that moving to his family’s ranch in Texas was the best solution for all of them. The media continued to be a thorn in their sides, vying to fabricate stories on a daily basis. The ranch offered them privacy and security. And after meeting her new mother-in-law for the first time, Kira understood the family dynamics a bit better. Dalton’s mother, Stella, was a soft-spoken woman who’d suffered repeated loss. She needed someone to give her purpose. The sadness etched on her face seemed to ease a bit when she met Brandon.
After a few days of watching him from a distance, Stella had asked him to help her bake cookies one afternoon. The next morning, Brandon was helping with pancakes. Everyday since, the two of them were up at dawn and filling the house with laughter.
The ranch became a fresh place to start, where they could make their own memories, together. Last night, Lacey had given Kira a baby book for Brandon. She’d used the stories and pictures from her online scrapbook page to make a paperbound book that included stories about his first tooth, word and steps. The amount of love in that book helped Kira realize that although Brandon hadn’t been with her, he had been well cared for and loved.
A whistle pierced the air and she snapped out of her musings to see Brandon connect the bat to the ball and send it sailing over Dalton’s head. He dropped the bat and darted across the yard toward third base, stopped halfway there and changed direction for first. She stumbled off the porch, clapping and hollering his name. “Go, Brandon!”
He ran over first and made a loop for second base. Truthfully, the bases were almost as big as he was, and his little arms were pumping with the effort to run. He stomped on the base and glanced over his shoulder to see where Dalton was before squealing in delight and racing to third.
Kira almost peed her pants laughing. She hurried to home plate and waved him past third. “Come on, Brandon, you can make it. Run.”
Dalton had the ball, but instead of racing across the infield directly to home plate, he followed Brandon’s path with a ferocious growl. Kira planted her feet near home plate and extended her arms to catch Brandon when he crossed. He hurried to her while Dalton continued the chase. She lifted her son into her arms and swung him the other direction.
“You did it!”
“I got home, Mommy.”
Kira twirled him a couple times in a circle to celebrate and then Dalton was grabbing her and twirling them both in the air. Everyone laughed, and Dalton said, “Yeah, Mommy, we made it home.”
“Yes, indeed, we did,” Kira agreed.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from
COLTON COWBOY PROTECTOR by Beth Cornelison
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A SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
Jack Colton wants Tracy McCain as far away from his son as possible.
But when she becomes an assassin’s target, the stakes have never been higher…
Read on for a sneak peek of
COLTON COWBOY PROTECTOR,
the first book in the Coltons of Oklahoma series.
Excuse me.”
Jack pushed to his feet, his knee cracking thanks to an old rodeo injury, and faced the woman at eye level. Well, almost eye level. Though tall for a woman, she was still a good five or six inches shorter than his six foot one. He recognized her as the woman he’d seen earlier lurking in the foyer, practically casing the main house.
“Are you Jack Colton?” she asked.
“I am.”
“May I have a word with you?” she asked, her voice noticeably thin and unsteady. She cleared her throat and added, “Privately?”
In his head, Jack groaned. What now?
“And you are…?”
He suspected she was a reporter, based on the messenger bag hanging from her shoulder. He had nothing to say to any reporter, privately or otherwise.
“Tracy McCain.” She added a shy smile, her porcelain cheeks flushing, and a stir of attraction tickled Jack deep inside. Hell, more than a stir. He gave her leisurely
scrutiny, sizing her up. She may be tall and thin, but she still had womanly curves to go with her delicate, china-doll face.
“Am I supposed to know you?”
Her smile dropped. “Laura never mentioned me?”
His ex-wife’s name instantly raised his hackles and his defenses. His eyes narrowed. “Not that I recall. How do you know Laura?”
“I’m her cousin. Her maternal aunt’s daughter. From Colorado Springs.”
Jack gritted his back teeth. Laura had only been dead a few months and already relations she’d never mentioned were crawling out of the woodwork like roaches after the light’s turned off. The allure of the Colton wealth had attracted more than one gold-digging pest over the years. “You should know Laura signed an agreement when we divorced that ended any further financial claim on Colton money.”
Tracy lifted her chin. “I’m aware.”
“So you’re barking up the wrong tree, if you’re looking for cash.”
Tracy blinked her pale blue eyes, and her expression shifted, hardened. “I’m not after money,” she said, with frost in her tone.
Jack scratched his chin and tipped his head, giving her a skeptical glare. “Then what?”
“I wanted to talk about Seth.”
Jack tensed, his gut filling with acid. He squeezed the curry comb with a death grip and grated, “No.”
“I… What do you mean, no? You haven’t even heard what I want to—”
“I don’t need to hear. My son is off-limits. Nonnegotiable.”
Don’t miss
COLTON COWBOY PROTECTOR by Beth Cornelison
available June 2015, only from Harlequin Romantic Suspense
www.Harlequin.com
Copyright © 2015 by Beth Cornelison
ISBN-13: 9781460381304
Protecting His Brother’s Bride
Copyright © 2015 by Jan Schliesman
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Protecting His Brother's Bride Page 25
