A Bride for the Black Sheep Brother

With a sigh, Portia picked a chair in the reception area and settled down to wait. She pulled a magazine out of her travel tote and flipped it open, but didn’t actually read any of it. Instead, she stared blankly at the brightly colored pictures, her mind racing from the lies she’d been telling herself.

Here was the flaw in her logic: if today’s visit to Denver really was logical and not impulsive, she would not have ambushed Cooper at work, hoping to talk her way past his secretary. She would have called ahead and made an appointment. Or better yet, called him and asked to meet for lunch. Or even better yet, just called and talked through this on the phone.

He was her former brother-in-law. Calling him to chat was perfectly reasonable. She’d talked to him on the phone plenty of times during her marriage to Dalton. And even since the divorce, she’d called a couple of times a year to hit him up for donations to the Children’s Hope Foundation.

But instead of just calling, she’d changed her travel plans and come to see him in person. Why?

She looked around the office, felt panic starting to choke her and fought the urge to bolt. What was she doing here? Why had she gone to these drastic lengths? And for a girl she barely knew? Based on nothing more than a pair of blue eyes and a gut feeling?

It was ridiculous. Absurd. Completely irrational.

And that was why she’d come here herself.

Because it was irrational and ridiculous. And she knew if she hadn’t jumped in feetfirst, she would have backed out. If she had called and tried to explain this over the phone, she would have panicked and changed her story. She never would have had the guts to actually talk about the missing heiress. She had come here to do it in person because now she was committed. Now, she couldn’t back out. She could only wait.

* * *

In business, as in snowboarding, talent and preparation only got you so far. After that, it was all a matter of luck. Which sucked, because Cooper Larson had never been a particularly lucky man. Ambitious, yes. Talented, smart and ruthless, yes. Lucky, not so much.

But he was okay with that. Luck was for a privileged few. It wasn’t something you could control or work for. And personally, he would much rather owe his success to something he’d done.

Still, when it came to important business meetings, like the Flight+Risk board meeting he had scheduled for the afternoon, he never left anything to chance. The meeting would be held at a hotel conference room, not far from Flight+Risk’s headquarters. He’d spent the morning at the hotel, putting the finishing touches on the proposal he’d be bringing before the board. Which left him just enough time to stop back by the office and check in before grabbing lunch and heading to the board meeting.

Except Portia was waiting to see him when he got there.

For a moment, he just stopped cold in the doorway staring at her. “Portia?” he asked stupidly. “What are you doing here?”

She stood up, looking strangely nervous. “I had a layover in Denver. And I thought maybe we could talk.”

She’d been reading a magazine when he walked in and now she rolled it tightly in her hands, clenching it as if maybe she wanted to swat the nose of some naughty dog.

He studied her, taking in the white of her clenched knuckles. The faint lines of strain around her eyes. He hadn’t seen her often since her divorce from Dalton—hell, he hadn’t seen her often during their marriage—but he knew her well enough to recognize the signs of stress and nerves.

Even though it would mess with his schedule for the day, he nodded toward his office. “Sure. Come on in.” He glanced toward his secretary with a nod. “Hold my calls.”

Mrs. Lorenzo narrowed her gaze infinitesimally in disapproval. “Sir, shall I send you a reminder, oh, say thirty minutes before your meeting?”

Good ol’ Mrs. Lorenzo could always be counted on to impose a rigid schedule. He grinned. “Make it twenty minutes.”

If he skipped lunch that would leave plenty of time to walk back over to the hotel.

He led Portia into the office and gestured toward one of the chairs, admiring the subtle sway of her hips as she preceded him. Portia was built exactly the way he liked—tall and lean. Today she wore her pale blond hair back in a sleek ponytail. She was dressed in skin-tight jeans and a white shirt under a tan sweater. Everything about her looked cool and confident. Everything except those white knuckles.

Though he gestured her toward a chair, he didn’t sit behind his desk. Instead, he propped his hips on the desktop and stretched his legs out in front of him. Frankly, he hated the trapped feeling that came with sitting behind a desk for too long. It reminded him of school. And with the board meeting this afternoon, he was going to spend enough time sitting still.

“What’s up?” he asked as soon as Portia sat down.

She bobbed back to her feet before answering. “I think I’ve found the heiress.”

“Who?” he asked.

“The missing Cain heiress. The one Dalton and Griffin have been searching for so frantically. Your sister. I’ve found her.”

“What?” He frowned. Her answer was so unexpected, so completely out of left field, his brain spun. No, not even left field. Out of no field. “I didn’t even know you were looking for her.”

“I wasn’t!” Portia started pacing, her words pouring out of her. “I was at a fund-raiser. The big Children’s Hope Foundation gala. And I just met this girl. She’s about the right age, mid-twenties. Her hair’s red, but I’m pretty sure it was dyed. But she has the Cain eyes.”

He rolled his own eyes at that, but he was surprised by the way those words drove the tension right out of his body. “The Cain eyes? That’s what you’re basing this on? The fact that she has blue eyes?”

Portia paused on the far side of his office, right in front of the wall of books he’d never read that the decorator had picked out. He got the feeling that Portia wasn’t studying the book spines, but rather summoning her courage before turning back to look at him. She jutted out her jaw as she frowned. “It’s a real thing. Don’t act like it isn’t.”

“I’m not acting. Ten percent of the population have blue eyes. They can’t all be related to the Cains. Not even Hollister slept around that much.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Listen, there are some things women are better at than men. Facial recognition—including eye color—is one of them.” He waggled his hand in a that’s iffy gesture. “Trust me on this. Cain-blue eyes are very unique. I spent ten years staring into Dalton’s eyes. I know that color. And I’ve never seen anyone else with those eyes except for Hollister and his sons. This girl—this girl I saw at the fund-raiser—she’s your sister. That has to mean something to you.”

Cooper shifted and studied Portia.

She was such a mystery. Half the time, she came off as this coolly serene princess. No, more than half. Eighty percent, maybe ninety percent of the time. But he’d seen another side of her. He knew she had more going on than the ice princess thing most people saw. He couldn’t forget when he’d walked in on her doing a headstand on her wedding day. Every time he saw her he thought of those long legs and the pink kitty cat underwear. A guy never forgot a thing like that. He never forgot the sharp punch of desire. Even when the woman had spent a decade married to his brother.

But Portia wasn’t married to Dalton anymore. She was here in his office. A thousand miles from her home. Talking to him about something she easily could have told Dalton.

What was up with that?

He ran his thumb along his jaw. “Okay. So let’s say this is the girl. Let’s say she’s really the heiress. Why come to me? Why not just call up Dalton?” And then it hit him—of course she wouldn’t call Dalton. He was her ex-husband. Yeah, their divorce seemed civil enough. From the outside. But who knew what it had been like from her side of things? Just because she’d kept in contact with Caro and Hollister that didn’t mean she wanted Dalton to win the challenge so that he could inherit all of Cain Enterprises. “Never mind. Sorry I said that. That was stupid. Of course you’re not just going to hand him the money. But why not talk to Griffin about this?”

She pulled a sheepish face. “I’m not exactly Griffin’s favorite person. I don’t know if he’d even believe me. But in reality I couldn’t go to him for the same reason I couldn’t go to Dalton.”

“The same reason? Jesus, how many of us have you married?”

She narrowed her gaze, looking confused for a second before shaking her head. “Very funny. Yeah, sure, I’m not Dalton’s biggest fan right now, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I couldn’t talk to Dalton because he wants it too badly,” she said simply, like he was the idiot for not seeing it right off.

“You can’t tell him you think you’ve found the girl because he wants to find her?” he asked slowly, drawing the words out while he tried to wrap his brain around what she meant.

“Yes! Think about it—if the girl isn’t found before something happens to Hollister, then Cain Enterprises is going to be in serious trouble. If Hollister’s shares of the company go to the state, they’ll probably be auctioned off, most likely to Cain’s competitors. The company will be in ruins. Even though Dalton doesn’t work for Cain Enterprises anymore, he doesn’t want that to happen. He’s worked his ass off for Cain all his life. A new job doesn’t change that. He still loves the company. He’s always going to pick what’s best for Cain Enterprises. He’s not going to think twice about his sister.”

“So you’re telling me you haven’t gone to Dalton with this information because you’re worried about the heiress?”

“Exactly. Someone needs to think about what’s best for this poor girl.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow. “This poor girl? If you’re right, this poor girl is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Probably more money than she’s ever dreamed of. No one would call this girl poor.”

Portia seemed to hesitate, then smiled faintly. “Perhaps poor isn’t quite the word I meant, but I’m sure you’ll agree, if Dalton and Griffin do find her, she’s going to have a rough time of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”