She gave him a light kiss in sympathy. “Because, Nathaniel, if you don't, the IRS will make your life a living hell. I'm here to save you from them. I'm also, if your system can take the excitement, going to suggest you open a Keogh—a retirement account for the self-employed.”

“Retirement? Hell, Meg, I'm thirty-three.”

“And not getting a day younger. Do you know what the cost-of-living projections are for your golden years, Mr. Fury?”

“I changed my mind. I don't like it when you talk accountant to me.”

“It's also good tax sense,” she persisted. “The money you put in won't be taxable until you're of retirement age. When, usually, your bracket is lower. Besides, planning for the future might not be romantic, but it is rewarding.”

He slid a hand under the terry cloth. “I'd rather have instant gratification.” Her pulse scrambled. “I have the necessary form.”

“Damn right you do.”

“For the Keogh. All you need to— Oh.” The terry cloth parted like water under his clever hands. She gasped, shuddered, melted. “How did you do that?”

“Come to bed.” He lifted her. “I'll show you.”

Just past dawn, Nathaniel strolled down the curve of the terrace steps, his hands in his pockets and a whistle on his lips. Dutch, in a similar pose, descended the opposite curve, both men stopped dead when they met in the center.

They stared, swore.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Dutch demanded. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I live here, remember?”

Nathaniel inclined his head. “You live down there.” He pointed toward the kitchen level.

“I'm taking the air,” Dutch said, after a fumble for inspiration.

“Me too.”

Dutch flicked a glance toward Megan's terrace. Nathaniel gave Coco's a studying look. Each decided to leave well enough alone.

“Well, then. Suppose you want some breakfast.”

Nathaniel ran his tongue around his teeth. “I could do with some.” “Come on, can't dawdle out here all morning.”

Relieved with the solution, they walked down together in perfect agreement.

She overslept. It was a breach in character that had her racing out of her room, still buttoning her blouse. She stopped to peek into Kevin's bedroom, spotted the haphazardly made bed and sighed.

Everyone was up and about, it seemed, but her.

She made a dash toward her office, crossing breakfast with her son off her list of small pleasures for the day.

“Oh, dear.” Coco fluttered her hands when Megan nearly mowed her down in the lobby. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm just late.” “Did you have an appointment?”

“No.” Megan caught her breath. “I meant I was late for work.”

“Oh, my, I thought there was a problem. I just this minute left a memo on your desk. Go ahead in, dear, I don't want to hold you up.”

“But—” Megan found herself addressing Coco's retreating back, so she turned into her office to read the message.

Coco's idea of an interoffice memo was something less than professional.

Megan, dear, I hope you slept well. There's fresh coffee in your machine, and I've left you a nice basket of muffins. You really shouldn't skip breakfast. Kevin ate like a young wolf. It's so rewarding to see a boy enjoy his food. He and Nate will be back in a few hours. Don't work too hard.

Love, Coco

P.S. The cards say you have two important questions to answer. One with your heart, one with your head. Isn't that interesting?

Megan blew out a breath, and was reading the memo again when Amanda popped in. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” She handed over the paper she held. “Do you think you could interpret this for me?”

“Ah, one of Aunt Coco's convoluted messages.” Lips pursed, Amanda studied it. “Well, the coffee and muffins are easy.”

“I got that part.” In fact, Megan helped herself to both. “Want some?”

“No, thanks, she already delivered mine. Kevin ate a good breakfast. I can vouch for that. When I saw him, he was scarfing down French toast, with Nathaniel battling him for the last piece.”

Megan bobbled her coffee. “Nathaniel was here for breakfast?”

“Eating and charming Aunt Coco, while telling Kevin some story about a giant squid. They'll be back in a few hours,” she continued, tapping the note, “because Kevin talked Nate into taking him out on the tour again. It didn't take much talking,” she added with a smile. “And we didn't think you'd mind.”

“No, of course not.”

“And the bit about the cards defies interpretation. That's pure Aunt Coco.” Amanda set the memo down again. “It's spooky, though, just how often she hits the mark. Been asked any questions lately?”

“No, nothing in particular.”

Amanda thought of what Sloan had related to her about Nathaniel's feelings. “Are you sure?”

“Hmmm? Yes. I was thinking about Fergus's book. I suppose it could loosely be considered a question. At least there's one I want to ask you.”

Amanda made herself comfortable. “Shoot.”

“The numbers in the back. I mentioned them before.” She opened a file, handing a copy of the list to Amanda. “I was wondering if they might be passbook numbers, or safe-deposit boxes, safe combinations. Lot numbers, maybe, on some real estate deal?” She moved her shoulders. “I know it's silly to get so hung up on them.”

“No.” Amanda waved the notion away. “I know just what you mean. I hate it when things don't fit into place. We went through most of the papers from this year when we were looking for clues to find the necklace. I don't recall anything that these figures might connect to, but I can look through the material again.”

“Let me do it,” Megan said quickly. “I feel like it's my baby.”

“Glad to. I've got more than enough on my plate, and with the big holiday tomorrow, barely time to clean up. Everything you'd want is in the storeroom under Bianca's tower room. We've got it all boxed according to year and content, but it's still a nasty, time-consuming job.”

“I live for nasty, time-consuming jobs.”

“Then you'll be in heaven. Megan, I hate to ask, but it's the nanny's day off, and Sloan's up to his ears in plywood or something. We've been playing pass-the-babies this morning, but I've got an appointment in the village this afternoon. I could reschedule.”

“You want me to baby-sit.” “I know you're busy, but—”

“Mandy, I thought you'd never ask me.” Megan's eyes lit up. “When can I get my hands on her?”

Kevin figured this was the best summer of his life. He missed his grandparents, and the horses, and his best friend, John Silverhorn, but there was too much to do for him to be really homesick.

He got to play with Alex and Jenny every day, had his own fort, and lived in a castle. There were boats to sail, and rocks to climb—and Coco or Mr. Dutch always had a snack waiting in the kitchen. Max told him really neat stories. Sloan and Trent sometimes let him help with the renovations, and Holt had let him drive the little powerboat.

All his new aunts played games with him, and sometimes, if he was really, really careful, they let him hold one of the babies.

It was, to Kevin's thinking, a really good deal.

Then there was Nathaniel. He snuck a look at the man who sat beside him, driving the big convertible up the winding road to The Towers. Kevin had decided that Nathaniel knew something about everything. He had muscles and a tattoo and most always smelted like the sea.

When he stood at the helm of the big tour boat, his eyes narrowed against the sun and his broad hands on the wheel, he was every little boy's idea of a hero.

“Maybe...” Kevin trailed off unta Nathaniel glanced down at him. “Maybe what, mate?”

“Maybe I could go back out with you sometime,” Kevin blurted out. “I won't ask so many questions next time, or get in the way.”

Was there ever a man, Nathaniel wondered, who could defend himself against the sweetness of a child? He stopped the car at the family entrance. “I'll pipe you aboard my ship anytime.” He flicked a finger down the brim of the captain's hat he'd carelessly dropped on Kevin's head. “And you can ask all the questions you want.”

“Really?” Kevin pushed the brim back up, so that he could see. “Really.”

“Thanks!” Kevin threw his arms around Nathaniel in a spontaneous hug that had Nathaniel's heart sliding down the slippery chute toward love. “I gotta tell Mom. Are you going to come in?”

“Yeah.” He let his hands linger on the boy a moment before they dropped away.

“Come on.” Bursting with tidings, Kevin scrambled out of the car and up the steps. He hit the door running. “Mom! I'm back!”

“What a quiet, dignified child,” Megan commented as she stepped into the hallway from the parlor. “It must be my Kevin.”

With a giggle, Kevin darted to her, rising on his toes to see which baby she was holding. “Is that Bianca?”

“Delia.”

Kevin squinted and studied. “How can you tell them apart? They look the same.”

“A mother's eyes,” she murmured, and bent to kiss him. “Where've you been, sailor?”

“We went way, way out in the ocean and back, twice. We saw nine whales. One was like a baby. When they're all together, they're called a pod. Like what peas grow in.”

“Is that so?”

“And Nate let me steer and blow the horn, and I helped chart the course. And this man on the second deck was sick the whole time, but I wasn't 'cause I've got good sea legs. And Nate says I can go with him again, so can I?”

Nearly nine years as a mother had Megan following the stream of information perfectly. “Well, I imagine you can.”

“Did you know whales mate for life, and they're not really fish at all, even though they live in the water? They're mammals, just like us and elephants and dogs, and they've got to breathe. That's how come they come up and blow water out of their spouts.”

Nathaniel walked in on the lecture. And stopped, and looked. Megan stood, smiling down at her son, his hand in hers and a baby on her hip.

I want. The desire streamed through Nathaniel like sunlight, warm, bright. The woman—there had never been a question of that. But he wanted, as Sloan had said, the whole package. The woman, the boy, the family.

Megan looked over and smiled at him. His heart all but stopped.

She started to speak, but the look in Nathaniel's eyes had her throat closing. Though she took an unconscious step back, he was already there, his hand on her cheek, his lips on hers with a tenderness that turned her to putty.

The baby laughed in delight and reached for a fistful of Nathaniel's hair.

“Here we go.” Nathaniel took Delia, hefted her high so that she could squeal and kick her feet. When he settled her on his hip, both Megan and Kevin were still staring at him. He jiggled the baby and cocked his head at the boy. “Do you have a problem with me kissing your mom?”

Megan made a little strangled sound. Kevin's gaze dropped heavily to the floor. “I don't know,” he mumbled.

“She sure is pretty, isn't she?”

Kevin shrugged, flushed. “I guess.” He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. Lots of men kissed his mother. His granddad and Sloan—and Holt and Trent and Max. But this was different. He knew that. After all, he wasn't a baby. He shot a look up, lowered his eyes again. “Are you going to be her boyfriend now?”

“Ah...” Nathaniel glanced at Megan, was met with a look that clearly stated that he was on his own. “That's close enough. Does that bother you?”

Because his stomach was suddenly jittery, Kevin moved his thin shoulders again. “I don't know.”

If the boy wasn't going to look up, Nathaniel figured it was time to move down. He crouched, still holding the baby. “You can take plenty of time to think about it, and let me know. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Okay.” Kevin's eyes slid up toward his mother's, then back to Nathaniel's. He sidled closer and leaned toward Nathaniel's ear. “Does she like it?”

Nathaniel clamped down on a chuckle and answered solemnity with solemnity. “Yeah, she does.”

After a long breath, Kevin nodded. “Okay, I guess you can kiss her if you want.”

“I appreciate it.” He offered Kevin a hand, and the man-to-man shake had the boy's chest swelling like a balloon.

“Thanks for taking me today.” Kevin took off the captain's hat. “And for letting me wear this.”

Nathaniel dropped the hat back on Kevin's head, pushed up the brim. “Keep it.”

The boy's eyes went blank with shocked pleasure. “For real?” “Yeah.”