The Missing Heir(31)

                “I’m so sorry, Amber.”

                She gave herself a mental shake as she removed Zachary from the bath ring. “It was a very long time ago. I don’t know why I’m even going into it.”

                “Because I asked.”

                Crouched over the tub, she leaned Zachary along her arm to rinse his hair. He squirmed but didn’t cry.

                “I never knew my father,” Cole said from beside her.

                “Divorce?” she asked.

                “Yes. Before I was born.”

                “Did you have a relationship with him?”

                “None.”

                “Why not?”

                “My mother wanted nothing to do with him, and neither did I.”

                “Do you still feel the same way?”

                “I do. But it wouldn’t matter.”

                Amber guessed at what Cole meant. “He passed away?”

                “He did.”

                She stood Zachary up, checking to make sure he was squeaky-clean. “Any regrets?

                “Not a one. He never knew about me. My mom was absolutely fantastic. It was just the two of us, but she was hardworking, loving, supportive.”

                “That’s nice to hear.” Amber lifted Zachary from the tub, wrapping him in a fluffy mauve towel.

                He cooed happily, but then spotted Cole. He wriggled in her lap, reaching out and whimpering.

                “This is definitely insulting,” she said.

                “You’re great with him.”

                “I’m not sure about that.” She was honest. “But I’m what he’s got, and I do love him.”

                Cole rose from the edge of the tub, reaching out to take Zachary in one arm and then helping her to her feet. It took him a minute to speak.

                “Sometimes,” he said softly, “families just happen.”

                His hand was warm and dry beneath hers, broad, strong and slightly callused. He didn’t immediately let her go, and a strange feeling surged up her arm, pushing into her chest.

                Time seemed to stop. She stood still and drank in his appearance. He was such a gorgeous, sexy man. His smoke-gray eyes were warm with emotion. She noticed once again that his shoulders were broad, arms strong, chest deep. He seemed to radiate a power that was more than just physical.

                She fought another urge to throw herself into his arms.

                “Amber,” he breathed.

                He lifted his hand to brush her damp hair from her cheek.

                His touch was featherlight, but she felt herself sway toward him.

                He leaned in, slowly, surely.

                Then he touched his lips to hers.