All He Really Needs(20)

“Well, it might be damn near impossible to find her even if she does exist.”

Griffin gave her a level look. “So you think Laney’s theory was wrong? You don’t think this nanny, Vivian, is the one?”

Sydney flipped back through the file to find the color copy she’d made of the photos Laney had found. The first picture was of two women and a girl standing on the beach somewhere. As Sydney understood it, the older woman was Matilda Fortino, Laney’s grandmother. She’d been the Cain’s housekeeper for Dalton and Griffin’s entire childhood. Dalton had gone to see her because he’d thought that if anyone had the dirt on his father, it would be her. His search had brought him to Laney, whom he’d apparently been in love with when he was younger. As hard a time as Sydney had imagining Dalton—her serious and stoic boss—falling in love at all, she was glad that he seemed to have found happiness, even if he hadn’t found his missing sister.

But Laney had believed the girl in this photo might be the missing girl. There was another picture of the girl’s mother stapled behind the first. In that picture, she was still pregnant and she had her arm around the shoulder of another pregnant woman—Laney’s mother. More importantly, the picture had been taken in the Cain’s backyard.

Laney’s grandmother had Alzheimer’s and could tell them nothing about the young woman or the girl. However—according to Laney’s notes—Matilda’s incoherent ramblings had led Laney to believe that the woman had a connection to Hollister, a connection that might have put her in danger.

Was all this conjecture, or was this a real lead?

Sydney looked at the two pictures and frowned. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “The connection seems specious at best.”

“I know. It isn’t a lot to go on.”

Sydney looked up to study Griffin, but once again she was frustrated by his chameleon charm. His mouth was twisted into a smile, but she couldn’t read his emotions. Was he as doubtful as she was, or did he believe this girl on the beach was his sister?

Glancing down at the picture, he said, “It would help if whoever took the picture was close enough to see the girl’s eyes.”

“Why?”

“Well, if she had Cain-blue eyes, then we’d know for sure Hollister was her father.”

“Cain-blue?” Sydney asked.

“Sure. Didn’t you ever notice that my eyes and Dalton’s are the same color?”

“No” She couldn’t keep her skepticism from her voice. “Blue eyes are blue eyes. But you and Dalton look nothing alike.”

“Maybe not,” Griffin chided. “But our eyes are almost identical.”

Before she could scoff, he grabbed her hand and tugged her gently to her feet, positioning her to stand between his outstretched legs.

“Look,” he gently urged her. “Tell me Dalton and I don’t have the same eyes.”

She had no choice but to gaze into Griffin’s eyes. Standing this close, she was hit with the scent of him. All fresh and minty. His hand, warm and dry, still clenched one of hers. His thumb rubbed idly across the back of her hand. She was struck by how gentle his touch, but how rough his skin, was.

She had been touched by him enough—and intimately at that—that she knew the skin on his hands was roughened as if by hard manual labor, but for the life of her, she’d still couldn’t imagine what he might be doing in his spare time to earn those calluses.

Giving her head a little shake, she tried to focus on his eyes.

“Well, for starters, the shape of your eyes is totally different. His eyes are rounder. Yours are more almond shaped. And crinkly.”

“You’re saying I squint?” he teased, his hands releasing hers to settle on her hips. With nowhere else to put them, she dropped her own hands to his waist.

“No,” she harumphed. “I’m saying you laugh. Dalton never laughs. Besides, Dalton has this way of looking right through someone. His eyes have this soulless quality. It’s not disdain or annoyance. Just disinterest.”

Griffin chuckled. “Exactly. So what about me?”

And this was what stumped her.

“You…really look at people,” she began slowly. Sometimes, when he looked at her, she felt as though he could see into her very soul, but she wasn’t going to say that aloud. “And I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing because sometimes I’m still not sure if you smile because you enjoy being with people or if human nature amuses you.”

The smile slowly faded from his expression and she felt the tension in his hands. Like he was trying to decide if he should push her away or pull her closer.