CHAPTER 1
The Present
“We should be landing soon,” Micah Sinclair mentioned casually as he glanced out the window of Evan’s private jet. “It’s been a while. I’m sure you’re eager to see Hope and your new nephew.”
Evan lifted his eyes from his laptop and looked at Micah, realizing the two of them had barely spoken during the flight. When his cousin had asked to hitch a ride with him to Amesport from New York City because he’d lent his own jet to his brother Julian, Evan had thought he’d welcome the company. Micah had a residence in New York; Evan didn’t, but was there quite frequently on business, so they met whenever possible.
As the eldest of the Sinclairs, Evan had the most in common with Micah. They were both just entering their midthirties, and, unlike his cousin’s younger brothers, Micah was obsessed with business. Granted, his business was extreme sports, but he took his bottom line and his responsibilities to his siblings seriously. As the oldest in their immediate families, Evan and Micah understood each other when it came to what everyone else called “meddling” in the business of younger relatives. He and Micah preferred to call it “guidance,” and neither one of them had ever felt guilty about checking on family. Maybe some people would actually refer to how they handled things as spying, but Evan preferred to think of it as checking on the well-being of his relatives.
Evan shrugged. “It’s been over six months since I’ve seen them, and I want to meet my nephew. I saw pictures. He looks bald. That can’t be normal. No Sinclair has ever been hairless. Our grandfather died with a full head of hair.” Their grandfather had lived to a ripe old age, and his hair had been gray as long as Evan could remember, but he hadn’t had a single bald spot on his head.
Micah chuckled as he fastened his seat belt in preparation for landing. “He’s not bald. His hair is blond, and it’s thin. He’s a cute little guy. Hope sent me a picture to my cell phone.”
Evan checked his seat belt and leaned back in the leather seat of his private aircraft, frowning at Micah, who was seated across from him. “He looked bald to me. And he’s not cute. He’s handsome. He’s a Sinclair.”
Micah’s laughter boomed in the cabin of the aircraft. “God, you’re an arrogant prick! But I like that about you. I always have.”
Evan smoothed down the lapel of his custom suit and straightened his tie before replying. “I’m sure the traits are easy to recognize since you happen to have the same attributes.”
If Evan was totally honest—which he wasn’t going to be—Micah probably wasn’t quite as uptight as he was, but he wasn’t going to admit that to his eldest cousin.
“Why do you always dress like you’re going to a business meeting or a funeral? Sometimes I wonder if you even own a pair of jeans,” Micah queried, sounding more curious than teasing.
Evan shot him a condescending look, unwilling to admit that he didn’t, in fact, own a pair of jeans or any other casual clothing. “I’m perfectly comfortable in a suit.” Well, at least that was the truth. If he was dressed for business, he felt more in control. His attire reminded him of his goals. He didn’t want to be sidetracked into something frivolous or unimportant.
Eyeing the guy for a moment, Evan had to admit that wearing a pair of jeans and a button-down green shirt didn’t lessen Micah’s aura of power. But Micah was different, normal. He was an expert at several of the sports that he sold state-of-the-art equipment for, and he had no reason to be anything other than self-assured. He might think that Micah was certifiable for participating in some of the extreme sports that he excelled at, but Evan couldn’t deny that his cousin was good at them. Really good. It took intense concentration and focus to do the stunts Micah was capable of performing, and he took his business just as seriously.
“I heard they named the baby David,” Micah said conversationally as the plane continued to descend for landing.
Evan inwardly released a sigh of relief that Micah had dropped the teasing. It wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable with, even from family.
He nodded as he answered. “David was a friend of Hope’s who was killed while chasing tornadoes. An extreme meteorologist. They wanted to pass the name on to their son.”
Evan admired the fact that Hope was paying tribute to a good friend who had died trying to collect weather data, but he sure as hell hoped that his nephew didn’t decide on the same line of work as his mother or his namesake. Maybe it was a good thing that Evan hadn’t known that Hope was chasing tornadoes and every other form of extreme weather before she married Jason Sutherland. However, it still ate at him that he’d failed his only sister, hadn’t protected her from the horrors she’d suffered early in her career. She had hidden her involvement in her dangerous endeavors well, but he should have been better, more involved in her life. He was her oldest brother, and he should have kept her safe. Evan hated failing at anything, but what had happened to Hope was his deepest regret and his greatest defeat. He still hadn’t forgiven himself; he was pretty sure he never would.
“I can’t believe that our sweet little Hope was such a wild child,” Micah mused, his voice sounding slightly awed.
“It was her career,” Evan answered unhappily. “It’s not like she was out seeking thrills for no reason.” He didn’t like her being referred to as wild. She wasn’t. Not usually. As Micah had already mentioned, Hope had been a very sweet child and a quiet teenager. Evan had thought she was just carrying on in the same manner in Aspen, living a very sedate life free of media attention in the Colorado Rockies. In reality, she’d been roaming around the world photographing extreme weather events.
I don’t really know her. I don’t really know any of my siblings anymore.
If he wanted to be honest—which he didn’t—he had never really known them at all. They’d spent very little time together as children or adults. Evan hated the fact that there was distance between himself and his siblings, but now that they were all grown and happy, he wasn’t certain how to fit into the Sinclair family or how to fix the situation, or even if he wanted it to be fixed. Too much time had passed.
Maybe I feel distant because I’m not happy or content like they are now? We have nothing in common.
No. That wasn’t quite right. Evan had always needed to maintain his distance in order to keep his secrets. Now, he wasn’t sure he could or would ever truly be close to any of them. He was fairly certain that all of them saw him as more of a pain in the ass than a brother, simply because he interfered in their lives from time to time. But he was okay with that. As long as they were all safe and happy.
“I still think she’s pretty ballsy,” Micah said with admiration. “And her photography work is incredible.”
“It is,” Evan answered simply. He was proud of all of his siblings, and Hope’s talent was truly astonishing. His home in Boston was filled with as many of her photos as he’d been able to acquire after he’d found out about her secret career path.
Hope was currently working on her nature shots, but Evan loved the very photos that had caused her harm: her extreme-weather photography. Some of them were very tangled and dark, breathtaking in their intense ferocity. Evan knew little about photography techniques, but he didn’t need to know much about taking pictures to recognize that the shadowy images struck a chord in him that resonated through his entire being. Hope’s creations reminded him of his own life, and the uncertainty of life itself.
Neither man spoke as they came to a rather bumpy landing on the runway of the small airport located outside Amesport, each seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Evan noted that his car and his driver, Stokes, had already arrived, the Rolls-Royce waiting just beyond the area where the plane would come to a stop.
“Do you want to stay with me?” Evan offered sincerely. Both Micah and Julian were coming for the party Hope was hosting, which she was calling The Amesport Midwinter Ball, though Evan knew it was really just a reason to get the entire town together to see her new son. It was being held in the Youth Center, and he had no doubt everyone invited would be there.
He unbuckled his seat belt as the plane came to a stop, damn glad he didn’t have to attend yet another marriage ceremony. It seemed like the only reason he usually came to this town was to be in a wedding. If he had to stand up one more time with Randi Tyler, he was likely to lose it. Luckily, he had no more brothers to marry off, his sister was already married to Jason, and he’d never again have to stand across from Randi and pretend he actually liked her as she took his arm with a false smile on her face while he led her down the aisle. Hopefully he could avoid her almost entirely on this trip. It wasn’t like he saw every resident in Amesport on each visit. The town was small, but it wasn’t that small. Unfortunately, Evan doubted that he’d be able to avoid Randi completely. She was friends with Hope now, and would inevitably show up at the party.
“Naw. I’m good. Jared is putting me and Julian up in his guesthouse. Now that Mara doesn’t need it for her business anymore, it’s empty. Julian won’t be coming in until tomorrow. He can’t stay long—now that he’s been nominated for an Academy Award, he thinks he’s busy.” Micah smirked as he stood and retrieved his suitcase from one of the spacious closets on the plane. “He’s shooting his next movie in a month, and the award ceremonies are in just a couple of weeks. I guess he’s been bombarded for interviews.”
Evan knew that Micah might be teasing but was actually really proud of Julian. Honestly, Evan was proud of him, too. Julian had tried never to use his power as a Sinclair or his inherited money in his pursuit of stardom. He’d played the small parts, worked his way up in the movie industry. When he’d finally landed a leading role in a film after years of struggling, he’d done it by the merit of his own talent. Being nominated for an Oscar was proof that he’d really made it because of his own abilities.
“I hope he wins,” Evan grumbled as he gathered the rest of the things he’d need while in Amesport. He didn’t need much. His assistant had sent all of the necessities to his home here a while ago.
“Me too,” Micah admitted as they headed closer to the door of the aircraft, pulling on his dark-blue ski jacket. Evan donned his black wool dress coat.
“How’s Xander?” Evan didn’t want to ask the question, but he felt compelled to know how his youngest cousin was doing.
Micah shrugged a little too nonchalantly as he moved toward the exit. “The same. I never know from one day to the next what to expect with him now. He’s not coming for Hope’s party.”
“Is he on or off the wagon?” Evan asked cautiously as he followed Micah’s lead.
“On for now,” Micah replied with a heavy sigh. “But I’m not certain how long it will last.”
Evan’s heart sank, and he hurt for all of his cousins. After a tragic incident several months ago, Xander had abruptly quit his successful career as a musician and had been spiraling downhill ever since. He was drinking heavily, and was addicted to the very drugs that were supposed to help him. It reminded Evan of a period in Jared’s life that he didn’t even want to think about.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Micah.” He really was sorry, because he could relate. It was hell wondering if your brother was going to make it through the challenge of facing life again, or if he was going to keep going down until he hit rock bottom and stayed there. Worse yet, would they all get the news that Xander had fallen all the way and would never be getting up again?
“I hate feeling this damn helpless to do anything else. He’s been in rehab, and he refuses any further help. I don’t know whether to give him time, or wrestle him into a safe place where he can’t hurt himself,” Micah told Evan huskily, his voice vibrating with sorrow.
“I know.” Evan followed Micah down the stairs of the plane and clapped him on the back as they reached solid ground. “You’ve done all that you can do. Xander has to want to stay clean.”
The bitter-cold Maine winter wind blasted them both mercilessly as they exited the sleek aircraft, but Micah’s expression stayed grim, as though he was thinking too much to even feel the brutally frigid air. His dark-blond hair ruffled in the breeze, but he seemed totally oblivious to his surroundings. “Have I done everything I can?” he asked quietly, almost as though he were talking to himself rather than Evan.
“You have,” Evan replied staunchly. There was no reason for Micah to feel otherwise. “Let’s get to the car. I’ll give you a lift to the Peninsula.”
“Thanks,” Micah acknowledged gratefully, nodding at Evan like he was silently thanking him for his support, even though neither one of them would voice their emotions aloud. “My car is already at Jared’s place.”
Evan watched as Micah jogged toward the Rolls, shaking his head as he thought about the mess Xander was in at the moment. Thank God those days of worrying about the sanity of a younger brother were over for him, and Jared had finally healed. But Evan couldn’t help but have sympathy pains for his eldest cousin. He’d been where Micah was now, and it had been pure hell just dealing with Jared’s alcohol binge. He couldn’t imagine adding drugs into the mix.
“Welcome to Amesport, sir,” his gray-haired chauffeur told him in a monotone voice, a sound that always greeted Evan in nearly every city he visited. His driver was dressed just as he always was: a gray suit and tie, his silver hair seemingly immaculate even though the wind was blowing. He took Evan’s small suitcase and his laptop from his hands and put both in the front seat.
“Stokes,” Evan acknowledged with a single nod as the old man opened the back door for him.
Micah didn’t wait for Stokes to move around to the other side. He slid through the open door and scooted over on the backseat, making room for Evan. Stokes closed the door firmly after Evan had taken his seat, and the elderly man stoically took his place behind the wheel and put the vehicle in motion almost immediately.
Evan silently approved of the way Stokes handled the expensive vehicle, even in blowing snow and poorly cleared roads. The chauffeur had been with Evan for years and knew exactly what his boss wanted. Evan always wanted to reach his destination with as little drama as possible. Usually, he’d be working in the backseat—like Micah had started doing as soon as he’d gotten settled in the car. Stokes got him safely from place to place, so he was generally unconcerned about traffic, the roads, or what was happening outside of the vehicle, but Evan knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on work today.
He was too worried about whether or not he’d see her.
Why do I care? She’s really not worth the wasted time I spend thinking about her, or wondering why we can’t seem to be together without irritating each other. So what if we see each other at the party? We’re two grown adults. We can be civil for a short period of time.
Not that he and Randi had ever accomplished being nice to each other in the past, but Evan vowed that he wouldn’t let her bait him this time. He wondered once again—he thought about the subject way too often—why he and Randi Tyler couldn’t seem to get along without throwing insults at each other. He never lost his temper to the point of bellowing, like some men did, but he’d come close with the she-devil he’d been forcefully paired with three awkward times. First it was Grady’s, and then Dante’s, and finally Jared’s wedding. Every experience had been a lesson in patience.
She’d decided he was arrogant and bossy.
He’d decided she was bitchy and impatient.
Strangely, Randi didn’t seem impressed by his wealth or his status as a Sinclair. She’d started out treating him like a friend, teasing him like she did with her friends and all the other Sinclairs. That had made him uncomfortable, so he’d ignored her. In turn, she’d either snubbed him or insulted him every single time he saw her, after the first time.
“She’s overly sensitive, unpredictable, and emotional,” Evan muttered under his breath, relieved when he saw that Micah was apparently answering emails on his phone and hadn’t heard him. Randi Tyler was everything he disliked in a woman, but for some reason he was still highly attracted to her. It was perplexing, confusing. He didn’t like her, but his cock certainly did. Her personality might annoy him, but there was never an encounter with her when he didn’t want to pin her to the wall and fuck her until he was completely sated. It was a situation he’d never experienced before, and he didn’t like it. He’d never had such a volatile reaction to a woman, and it wasn’t comfortable.
I can just avoid her, not react to her taunts.
The problem was, he never knew whether he was going to get the cold shoulder or if she’d decide to throw insults at him. Honestly, he preferred she did neither. He rather missed the way she had treated him that very first day . . . like a new friend. It had been . . . nice. But he hadn’t quite known what to make of her behavior then. He hadn’t been able to form the words fast enough to react to her friendly behavior. She’d taken his silence as disapproval—which it really wasn’t. Evan just hadn’t been certain how to respond to her, especially since she gave him an instant case of blue balls that never went away whenever he was near her.
Sometimes I wish I could do everything with Randi all over again from the beginning. It would have been nice to have another friend. But nothing has even changed between us, and it’s a little too late to try to start over again. Besides, I’d still want to nail her. Having a friend you wanted to fuck could become a problem.
The disagreeable female did have a killer smile. Too bad he’d never seen it directed his way again after their first meeting.
Evan only had one real friend, a female he’d shared much more than he should with, but had never met in person.
Have I passed her on the street in Amesport, or even talked to her?
The woman he’d been corresponding with from Amesport, formerly known as A Concerned Resident of Amesport, still remained a mystery to him. He’d tried his best to figure out who she was, because his curiosity had finally overridden his agreement with her not to share identities. Now, he wished he’d never agreed to her suggestion to not reveal their real names. It had made sense at the time, at the beginning of their correspondence. He wanted to meet her now, though she still didn’t know that he was wealthy—or a Sinclair. She had always presumed he was an employee of the Sinclair Fund, and he’d never corrected her assumption. In fact, he’d lied, verifying to her that he was just an employee several times. He’d rationalized the falsehood by telling himself she didn’t want to know his identity, and by sharing what his position was in the company, he’d reveal who he really was. Part of him wanted to remain a mystery to her, just a man instead of a billionaire from one of the most prominent families in the world. But as they’d continued to correspond for over a year, his desires had slowly changed. He wasn’t sure how they’d communicate face-to-face, but he’d really like to find out.
At one time, he’d wondered if the woman was his now sister-in-law, Mara. His mystery emailer had started signing her letters simply with the initial “M.”—and Mara had been in Dante’s wedding. However, it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Mara was head-over-heels in love with Jared, and that she wasn’t his secret letter writer.
Would I have fought my own brother for Mara if it was actually her?
Evan shook his head slightly as he watched the town of Amesport pass him by on the way to the private peninsula where his house was located. Jared deserved to be happy, and Evan would never have stood between his brother and a woman who brought him that much happiness. Luckily, he’d felt nothing for Mara except a platonic fondness that he still had for her today. She was perfect for Jared, and Evan had pushed and tested his younger brother to the limit to make him see that he needed to snap up Mara before someone else did. If his tactics had been a little deceitful, it hadn’t mattered. His actions were a means to a happy ending for Jared.
He released a pent-up breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Evan’s hand itched to check his email on his cell, see if he had an email from his . . . friend.
I won’t. I can’t. I don’t need to be checking email several times a day like I’m obsessed. She’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean I have to open that mailbox like a madman, pathetically hoping for a reply.
Absently, he fingered the stone keychain some crazy elderly woman had sent him several months ago with a note attached, telling him he needed the stone to clear his blocked paths to happiness. He should have thrown the Apache-tear rock away. Apparently, according to the letter that accompanied the gift, she’d stocked up on this particular crystal since she’d decided that every one of the Sinclair men and their prospective mates needed one. He’d met . . . what was her name? “Beatrice,” he whispered gruffly, remembering the senior citizen he’d met at Dante’s—and then Jared’s—wedding. She seemed harmless enough, but she was definitely “touched” or suffering from some sort of dementia.
For some unknown reason, he’d never gotten rid of the stone. In fact, he kept it on his person almost all of the time. Maybe it was the novelty of actually getting a gift from someone, or just the fantasy that the supposedly mystic woman had woven around the nature of the stone.
I’ll find Beatrice in Amesport and give it back.
It was the least he could do. Even he wasn’t hardhearted enough to offend a woman of advanced life experience by throwing away her gift. Maybe she could peddle it to someone else.
Surprisingly, he realized they were already moving through the gate to the Peninsula and getting close to the long driveway leading to Jared’s home. The miles had sped by, but his mind was elsewhere.
Damn! He’d meant to check out the progress Jared had made on restoring Mara’s old home and shop as he passed it by. It had been a mess after the fire that had almost taken Mara’s life. He’d looked forward to seeing it nearly restored, but had missed the chance by being lost in his own thoughts.
Later. It’s not like I won’t see it while I’m in town.
The former shop sat directly on Main Street.
“We need to drop Micah off at Jared’s,” Evan told Stokes in a firm voice.
“Yes, sir,” the chauffeur answered appropriately.
Micah was dropped off quickly and efficiently, Stokes never missing a beat once he had instructions. Evan waited as they approached his home on the Peninsula, forcing himself not to look at his phone for messages. If there was one thing Evan had in excess, it was control. His life ran in a very orderly fashion, just the way he liked and needed it to be.
The only two things that had even thrown him off-balance were his correspondence with the mysterious M.—and Randi Tyler. His pen-pal-type relationship with his mystery woman had been easier. He was drawn to her and her personality, but he had been able to remain anonymous, and he didn’t have the same visceral, gut-wrenching reaction to M. as he did to Randi. Maybe some of his desire to meet his email friend was curiosity, the need to find out if he’d feel the same reaction to her as he did to Randi if he met her in person. In some ways, it would really suck if he did. Then he’d want to nail two women who didn’t feel the same way he did.
Once they arrived at his home on the Peninsula and he was settled in, Evan finally checked his email, because it was the appropriate time to do so. He seated himself in a recliner in the living room, his laptop on his long, stretched-out legs as he connected to the Internet.
His heart raced just a little, and he felt the dampness of sweat on his forehead as the free email service took its damn time to appear. He might not have the visceral physical reaction to M. that he experienced with Randi, but he was always anxious to hear what she had to say. And then . . .
Nothing!
There were no new emails in the inbox.
Is she okay? She usually answers right away. What if she’s hurt? What if she’s still mourning the loss of her foster mother and is really depressed? I should be there for her. She’s listened to me complain a thousand times.
M. always listened to him as a person and not a boss, which was why he valued the relationship so much. It was unique to talk to someone like a normal person.
Disappointed, but determined not to let an absence of any new emails bother him, he turned his attention to work just like he always did, trying desperately to lie to himself that it didn’t matter that she hadn’t yet responded.