Bound by the Kincaid Baby / The Millionaire's Miracle. Emilie Rose
hanging above the mantel. “How old were you when this was painted?”
“Eleven,” Mitch replied.
“Everyone looks so happy. The all-American family success story.” Her family had been happy…until she’d made an unforgettable mistake.
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
That brought her around abruptly. Exhaustion dragged Mitch’s features, not surprising since he’d left for work before eight this morning, and it was after 10:00 p.m. now. His suit coat was draped on his forearm and his loosened burgundy tie hung askew.
So much for Sunday being a day of rest. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Did you and Rhett get settled in today?”
“We did. Mrs. Duncan and I have babyproofed most of the rooms. So when you notice some of your priceless collectibles missing, I didn’t hock them. They’ve been put away.”
As a physical therapist, Carly spent a lot of her day encouraging people to go a little farther than they wanted to go. She saw no reason not to continue that practice with Mitch. “Why is the picture deceptive?”
“Let it go, Carly.” If his voice dropped any lower he’d be growling. He turned away.
She reached out and grabbed his bicep to stop him. The muscle bunched beneath her fingers and his heat burned her hand through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “If you expect me to let Rhett live here, then you need to level with me, Mitch. Are there skeletons in the Kincaid closet that I should worry about?”
He stabbed a hand through his hair, effectively dislodging her grasp, and lifted his gaze to the oil painting. “As far as I can remember, my mother wasn’t the contented person you see depicted there. She died in a car accident shortly after that portrait was painted. But I was a kid. So what do I know?”
“I’m sorry. Going through your teens without the steadying influence of your mother must have been difficult.”
A familiar ache welled in her chest. Her daughter would be twelve now and entering what Carly’s mother had always called the testing years. Was her daughter asking the same questions Carly had asked about her birthmother? Did she wonder why she’d been given up and if she was too flawed for even a mother to love? Carly prayed her daughter’s adoptive parents were as supportive and loving as Eileen and Dan Corbin had been.
Carly pushed the questions and regrets aside, the way she always did, and focused on the present. But the ache didn’t abate. It never did. The pain rested just behind her breastbone like a hole in her heart.
Mitch grunted a nonanswer and headed toward the wet bar built into the cabinetry flanking the fireplace. But instead of liquor, he splashed bottled water over his ice cubes.
“I’m sure you can see why I want to make certain Rhett doesn’t suffer from Marlene’s absence.”
Studying his reflection in the mirror above the marble countertop, she noted the groove in his brow. For a moment, he looked tired and very much like a man who’d just lost his father and had to take over a multi-billion-dollar corporation despite the grief he must dealing with. “Rough day?”
He stared into his glass, then met her reflected gaze. “I’ve spent the past week reacquainting my brother with KCL. He’s been working for our west coast competitor for the past five years. And we had to hire my sister’s replacement. Rand and I spent the day training her.”
Carly had been disappointed when she’d read in the will that Nadia would be out of state. She’d hoped the female Kincaid would have some maternal instincts and side with Carly on Rhett’s care. “Training on Sunday?”
“The cruising industry runs 24/7, three hundred and sixty-five days per year. Good night.” He headed for the foyer.
Tonight for the first time since she’d met him, Mitch looked anything but invincible and nothing like the overconfident rat bastard Marlene had described. For some foolish reason, Carly was reluctant to let this approachable mood pass. “Have you had dinner? Mrs. Duncan left a plate for you in the refrigerator. Want me to heat it up?”
His eyes returned to hers and narrowed suspiciously. “I’m capable of operating a microwave.”
His terse reply raised her hackles, but for Rhett’s sake, she’d be polite. She had to be if she wanted to make a place for the youngest Kincaid in this family. “I’m sure you can, but I’m offering help and company.”
The long stretch of silence spoke volumes. “I could eat.”
Carly headed for the kitchen despite the lack of warm fuzzies his reply elicited. And this time she didn’t get lost. She’d taken more than a few wrong turns today in the enormous house.
She removed the plate from the refrigerator, slid it into the microwave and punched the buttons. “Your home gym is pretty amazing. Would you mind if I used it?”
“Go ahead.”
She leaned back against the counter and observed Mitch. “If you like, I can check your form when you work out to make sure you’re not doing yourself any harm.”
His shoulders squared. “What are you doing?”
“Heating your dinner? Trying to make conversation? Offering professional advice?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t be polite?”
“Don’t try your wiles on me.”
Carly’s temper ballooned like the plastic wrap covering the plate rotating on the microwave’s turntable. She gestured to her tracksuit, which had taken a beating during Rhett’s dinner and bath. “That’s the second time you’ve accused me of putting the moves on you. Open your freaking eyes, Kincaid. Am I dressed to seduce you?”
She realized her mistake immediately. Her question invited him to inspect her from her ponytail to her running shoes. He did so slowly and thoroughly, lingering over her breasts and legs before returning to her face. It annoyed her immensely that his appraisal left her breathless and agitated.
“It won’t work, Carly. I’m not a sap like my father, nor am I so hard up for a woman that I’ll fall into bed with the first attractive female who offers.”
His rudeness shocked and infuriated her. If this were a cartoon, steam would shoot from her ears. “Hello! I’m not offering anything except leftovers.”
“Precisely.” From his tone she didn’t think he referred to the leftover orange roasted chicken and vegetables.
The timer beeped. Mitch reached past her and retrieved the plate. She could feel both his warmth and, conversely, the chill emanating from him. He crossed the room and plunked his plate down on the kitchen table. His body language made it clear he didn’t want her company.
Carly resisted the urge to stab him with the fork she retrieved from the drawer and settled for slapping the utensil down on the table beside his plate. “If your father was half the conceited jackass you are, then I can’t see what Marlene ever saw in him.”
“She saw a billionaire sugar daddy and a meal ticket.”
Carly glared at him and prepared to blister him with one of the many insults she’d learned from the professional athletes she worked with. But doubt stilled her tongue.
Marlene had confessed in her notebook that she found Everett’s fortune quite attractive. But surely her sister had cared about more than the man’s finances? And what about the times Marlene had told her she loved Everett? Her sister wouldn’t have lied to her, would she?
Yes, she would.
Carly broke eye contact and retrieved the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. She set it down beside Mitch’s plate.
“Go screw yourself, Kincaid. That’s the only way a jerk like you will ever