The Hamilton Heir by Valerie Hansen

she did.
    Finally, she lifted her lashes and peeked over at Tim. The supportive smile he bestowed upon her seemed so warm and genuine it sent a tingle of elation singing up her spine and tickled the hair at the nape of her neck.
    “You get that last part?” Stuart asked her. “You stopped writin’.”
    Dawn blinked to clear her head. “Um, I think so. You were talking about D-day, right?”
    “Right.”
    Approaching, Tim offered his hand as he spoke to Stuart. “I’ve enjoyed our evening but I really should be getting on home. You two relax and finish your business. I’ll see myself out.”
    “Don’t forget that cannon,” the old man gibed, briefly shaking hands. “I’ll be lookin’ for it.”
    “I imagine you will.”
    “And bring another pizza like you did tonight. An army can’t fight on an empty stomach, you know. I’m partial to sausage. No olives. They give me heartburn something fierce.”
    Chuckling and shaking his head, Tim bid them both a good-night, turned away and headed for the door.
    “You don’t really expect him to buy you a working cannon, do you?” Dawn asked as soon as she and Stuart were alone.
    “Don’t know. He might. It don’t hurt to ask. He sure surprised me when he showed up tonight with all them horses and such.”
    “Yeah,” she said softly, “he surprised me, too.”

Chapter Six
    T im Hamilton’s penthouse encompassed the entire top floor of The Enclave, Davis Landing’s most prestigious address. His sister Amy had a smaller apartment in the same six-story building, as did Jeremy, although he hadn’t been home in ages.
    Absently greeting The Enclave’s night guard, Tim stepped into the elevator and used his key to unlock the controls, giving him access to his private floor.
    How long was Jeremy going to stay away? Tim wondered as the elevator hummed and rose smoothly. No telling. The angry way they’d parted still grated on his conscience. He’d overreacted. They both had.
    In view of the stress surrounding Wallace’s ongoing illness, there was no guarantee things would be different the next time they met, either, but Tim hoped he’d be able to moderate his own feelings enough to bring a semblance of peace. He owed it to his mother to try.
    Their mother, he corrected. He and Jeremy might have different fathers but they still shared Nora. And she needed all her children around her in harmony at a time like this, which was further reason to be irritated with his older brother. Though Jeremy had phoned home several times since he’d gone searching for his true grandparents, he seemed oblivious to anyone else’s needs. Of all the things Jeremy had said and done, cutting himself off from the family at a time like this was, in Tim’s considered opinion, the absolute worst.
    The elevator stopped on the top floor, the doors slid quietly open, and Tim stepped into the marble-floored foyer of his apartment. Home. He paused, taking it in. The place was almost too quiet. After his chaotic visit to Stuart’s—and the earlier attack by Dawn’s monster dog—all this peacefulness seemed a bit like an anticlimax.
    In keeping with the style of the rest of the building and his personal aversion to anything fussy, his furniture was sleek and modern. Expensive. Spotless. Except for a couple of bright throw pillows his sister Amy had insisted he add to the decor, the whole place was a plain black and white and gray. What natural wood there was, was the finest, hand-rubbed teak. So few footsteps had crossed the living room, the paths of the maid’s vacuum cleaner were visible on the thick, ivory carpet in a random, overlapping, geometric design.
    In the past, Tim had judged the place ideal. Now, it seemed too sterile, too perfect. He crossed to theglass door and walked out onto the balcony overlooking Sugar Tree Park.
    The air was cool and crisp, hinting at winter’s approach. Moonlight reflected off the glassy surface of the lake below, enhancing the starkness of Tim’s