Wanted by Her Lost Love

Devon shrugged. “Your time and your dime. Oh, look, there’s Cam. Wasn’t sure Mr. Reclusive would actually crawl out of that fortress of his for the event.”

Cameron Hollingsworth shouldered his way through the crowd, and people instinctively moved to get out of his way. He was tall and broad chested, and he wore power and refinement like most other people wore clothing. The stone set of his demeanor made him unapproachable by most. He could be a mean son of a bitch, but he could usually be counted on to relax around his friends.

The problem was, the only people he counted as friends were Ryan, Devon and Rafe. He didn’t have much patience for anyone else.

“Sorry I’m late,” Cameron said as he approached the two men. Then he glanced over the dance floor and his gaze stopped when he came to Rafe and Bryony. “How did the ceremony go?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” Devon drawled. “All a woman could hope for, I’m guessing. Rafe didn’t give a damn as long as the end result was Bryony being his.”

Cam emitted a dry chuckle. “Poor bastard. I don’t know whether to offer my condolences or my congratulations.”

Ryan grinned. “Bryony’s a good woman. Rafe’s lucky to have her.”

Devon nodded and even Cameron smiled, if you could call the tiny lift at the corner of his mouth a true smile. Then Cam turned to Devon, his eyes gleaming with unholy amusement.

“Word is you’re not far from taking a trip down the aisle yourself.”

Devon muttered a crude expletive and flipped up his middle finger along the side of his wineglass. “Let’s not ruin Rafe’s wedding by talking about mine. I’m more interested in knowing whether you were able to acquire the site for the new location of our hotel since Moon Island is now officially a bust.”

Cam’s eyebrows went up in exaggerated shock. “You doubt me? I’ll have you know that twenty prime acres of beachfront property on St. Angelo is now ours. And I got a damn good deal. Better yet, construction will commence as soon as we can move crews in. If we really dig in, we’ll come close to hitting our original deadline for the grand opening.”

Their gazes automatically went to Rafe, who was still wrapped around his bride. Yeah, the man had caused them a major setback when he pulled the plug on the Moon Island venture, but it was hard for Ryan to get up in arms about it when Rafe looked so damn happy.

Ryan’s pocket vibrated, and he reached down to pull his phone out. He was about to hit the ignore button when he saw who was calling. He frowned. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

Cameron and Devon waved him off and returned to their bantering as Ryan hurried out of the building. As soon as he stepped outside, the sea breeze ruffled his hair and the tang of salt filled his nose.

The weather was seasonable but by no means hot. It was about as perfect a day as you could ask for, especially for a wedding on the beach.

He turned to look at the distant waves and brought the phone to his ear.

“Beardsley,” he said by way of a terse greeting.

“I think I’ve found her,” his lead investigator said with no preamble.

Ryan tensed, his hand gripping the phone until his fingers went numb. “Where?”

“I haven’t had time to send a man to get a visual confirmation yet. I only just got the information in a few minutes ago. I felt strongly enough about her identity to give you a heads-up. I should know more by tomorrow.”

“Where?” Ryan demanded again.

“Houston. She’s working in a diner there. There was a mix-up originally in her social security number. Her employer reported it wrong. When he put in the correction, she popped on to my radar. I’ll have photos and a full report for you by tomorrow afternoon.”

Houston. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d been close to her all this time and never known it.

“No,” Ryan interjected. “I’ll go. I’m already in Texas. I can be in Houston in a couple of hours.”

There was a long silence over the phone. “Sir, it might not be her. I prefer to get confirmation before you take a needless trip.”

“You said it was most likely her,” Ryan said impatiently. “If it turns out not to be, I won’t hold you responsible.”

“Should I hold off my man then?”

Ryan paused, his lips tight, his grip on the phone even tighter. “If it’s Kelly, I’ll know. If it’s not, I’ll inform you so you can continue your search. There’s no need for you to send anyone down. I’ll go myself.”

Ryan drove through Westheimer in the blinding rain. His destination was a small café in west Houston where Kelly was waitressing. It shouldn’t surprise him. She’d been waitressing in a trendy New York café when they’d met. But the check he’d written her would have prevented her from needing to work for quite some time. He figured she would have returned to school. Even when they’d become engaged, she’d expressed the desire to finish her degree. He hadn’t understood it, but he’d supported her decision. The selfish part of him had wanted her to be completely reliant on him.

Why hadn’t she cashed the check?

He had hopped the ferry to Galveston immediately after giving Rafe and Bryony his best wishes. He hadn’t told Cam or Dev that he’d found Kelly, just that he had an important business matter to attend to. By the time he’d gotten to Houston it had been late in the evening, so he’d spent a sleepless night in a downtown hotel.

When he’d gotten up this morning, the skies had been gray and overcast and there hadn’t been a single break in the rain since he’d left his hotel. At least the weather had been beautiful for Rafe’s wedding. By now the happy couple would be off on their honeymoon—someplace where there was an abundance of blue skies.

He glanced over at his GPS and saw he was still several blocks from his destination. To his frustration, he hit every single red light on the way down the busy street. Why he was in a hurry, he didn’t know. According to his investigator, she’d worked here for a while. She wasn’t going anywhere.

A million questions hovered in his mind, but he knew he wouldn’t have the answers to any of them until he confronted her.

A few minutes later he pulled up and parked at the small corner coffee shop that sported a lopsided doughnut sign. He stared at the place in astonishment, trying to imagine Kelly working here of all places.

With a shake of his head, he ducked out of the BMW and dashed toward the entrance, shaking the rain from his collar as he stepped under the small awning over the door.

Once inside, he looked around before taking a seat in a booth on the far side of the café. A waitress who was not Kelly came over with a menu and slapped it down on the table in front of him.

“Just coffee,” he murmured.

“Suit yourself,” she said as she sashayed off to the bar to pour the coffee.

She returned a moment later and put the cup down with enough of a jolt to slosh the dark brew over the rim. With an apologetic smile, she tossed down a napkin.

“If there’s anything I can get you, just let me know.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her about Kelly when he looked beyond her and saw a waitress with her back to him standing across the room at another table.

He waved his waitress off and honed in on the table across the café. It was her. He knew it was her.

The honey-blond hair was longer and pulled into a ponytail, but it was her. He felt, more than visualized her, and his body quickened in response even after all these months.

Then she turned and presented her profile, and he felt every ounce of blood drain from his face.

What the everloving hell?

There was no mistaking the full curve of her belly.

She was pregnant. Very pregnant. Even more pregnant than Bryony by the looks of her.

His gaze lifted just as she turned fully and their eyes met. Shock widened her blue eyes as she stared across the room at him. Recognition was instant, but then why would she have forgotten him any more than he could have forgotten her?

Before he could react, stand, say anything, fury turned those blue orbs ice-cold. Her delicate features tightened and he could see her jaw clench from where he sat.