The Missing Heir(20)

                The furnishings were obviously expensive, but they were strewn with baby blankets and rattles, the floor decorated with colorful plastic toys.

                “Sorry about the mess,” she said.

                “You don’t need to apologize.”

                “And me.” She looked ruefully down at herself. “Well, this is me. This is what I normally look like. Last night was the anomaly.”

                “Seriously, Amber. You have nothing to apologize for. You look great.”

                She coughed out a laugh of disbelief.

                “Okay, you look normal. How formal do you think we get in Alaska?”

                She seemed to consider that. “Can I get you something?”

                “I’m fine.”

                He didn’t want to put her to any work. Then again, judging by Zachary’s even breathing and relaxed body, his excuse for hanging around had just fallen asleep. Maybe refreshments weren’t such a bad idea.

                “Do you happen to have coffee?” he asked.

                “Coming up. Take a seat anywhere.” She gestured to the furniture as she exited through another archway that obviously led to the kitchen.

                Cole took in the massive living room. In one corner, a plush sofa and a couple of leather armchairs bracketed a gas fireplace. Another furniture grouping was set up next to a bank of picture windows overlooking the city. The room was open to a formal dining room at one end and a hallway at the other that obviously led to the bedrooms.

                He decided to follow Amber into the kitchen. No point in wasting valuable conversation time here by himself.

                The kitchen was also huge, with high ceilings, a central island, generous granite counter spaces, stainless-steel appliances of every conceivable description and maple cabinets interspersed with big windows that faced the park. There was a breakfast nook at one end, stationed beside a balcony door, and an open door at the other, leading to a big pantry.

                “This is very nice,” said Cole.

                “I’m still getting used to the size.” She closed the lid and pressed a button on the coffeemaker. “It’s weird moving into someone else’s stuff—their furniture, their dishes, their towels. It’s crazy, but I miss my pepper mill.” She pointed to a corner of the counter. “You practically need a forklift to use that one.”

                Cole found himself smiling. “You should move your own stuff in.”

                For some reason, her expression faltered.

                “I’m sorry,” he quickly put in. “It’s too soon?”

                She paused, seeming to search for words. “It’s too something. I won’t pretend I was close to my stepsister, and I barely knew Samuel. Maybe it’s the court case. Maybe I don’t want to jinx anything. But I’m definitely keeping my own apartment intact until everything is completely finalized.”

                Cole perched on a stool in front of the island. Zachary was quiet and comfortable in his arms and surprisingly easy to hold. “Tell me about the court case.”

                “You haven’t read the tabloids?”

                “Not much.”