The envelope was postmarked Medicine Gore, Maine.

“The investigators I hired believe that it’s true,” Ben returned softly, his gunmetal gaze once again fixed on his brothers. “His name is Michael Sands, he lives with his aunt in Medicine Gore, and the timing is right.” He slid a thick folder toward them. “The investigators included a photo. You tell me if you think it’s true.”

Sam opened the folder and he and Jesse stared down at the eight-by-ten photograph.

“My God,” Jesse said hoarsely, looking at Ben. “This could be a picture of you nineteen years ago.” He looked back at Ben. “He has your eyes.”

Sam, the oldest of the three Sinclair men, collapsed with a sigh into a chair facing the desk. Jesse, the youngest, picked up the photo before sitting in the other chair.

“All these years of enduring Bram’s petitions for us to get married and have children.” Sam shook his head. “And he had a great-grandson living in Maine all this time.”

“How the hell could you not know you’d fathered a child?” Jesse asked. “It had to have happened that summer you spent protesting some logging practice in the Maine mountains. We suspected you fell in love with a girl up there, but you were in such a foul mood when you came back, you refused to tell us what in hell was wrong.”

“I was protesting the building of a hydroelectric dam,” Ben clarified. “And the girl was Kelly Sands. I asked her to come back to New York with me, but she just laughed and told me to get lost. There wasn’t even a hint that she might be pregnant.”

“Did she know who you were?” Sam asked. “Who your grandfather was?”

“I didn’t hide the fact that I came from money, but I didn’t exactly flaunt it, either.” He shrugged. “I don’t think she ever equated me with wealth.”

Jesse snorted. “If she had, you can be damn sure she’d have come knocking on your door once she discovered she was pregnant.”

“The question is, why is she suddenly knocking now?” Sam asked. “Fifteen years is a long time to wait to tell a man he has a son.”

“The note isn’t from her,” Ben said. “According to the investigators, Kelly Sands vanished ten years ago. Emma, her younger sister, has been raising Michael all by herself.”

Silence settled between the brothers. Ben curled his hands into fists as his vision turned inward, narrowing on that long-ago summer when youthful idealism had pulled him north … into the arms of a beautiful and ultimately cruel young woman. Long-buried pain rose to the surface; remorse, grief, and anger warred inside Ben as he once again tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he had a fifteen-year-old son.

“So what do you plan to do about this?” Sam asked.

Dragged back to the present, Ben gave his brothers a tight smile. “I’m planning to go meet my son, just as the note suggests.”

“And?” Jesse asked.

“And, while my investigators find out where Kelly Sands has run off to, I plan to make EmmaSands very sorry for not contacting me the moment her sister left Michael in her care. Once they find Kelly, I intend to make hereven sorrier—not only for not telling me I had a son, but for abandoning him to a nineteen-year-old girl.”

Sam was shaking his head before Ben even finished. “You can’t,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I’m sure the boy loves his mother and aunt. You go after them for revenge, and you’ll destroy any chance of having a relationship with Michael.”

“He’s right, Ben.” Jesse stood up and tossed the photo on the desk. “For all you know, they told Michael his father is dead. Instead of letting anger cloud your judgment, you need to decide how you’re going to approach the boy.”

Ben also stood. “I’ve already got that part figured out. I leave tomorrow for a two-week bird hunt at Emma Sands’s sporting camps. I’m booked at Medicine Creek Camps as Tom Jenkins.”

Sam also stood, clearly alarmed. “You can’t just show up there using an alias. The aunt will know who you are the moment she sees you.”

Ben rubbed the neatly trimmed beard he’d been growing for a week. “I’ve changed quite a bit in sixteen years. Emma was only fourteen the summer I was in Maine, and she always disappeared into the forest whenever I visited Kelly. There’s no way she’ll know who I am. Then, once I get comfortable being around Michael, I’ll find a way to introduce myself.”

“I don’t like it,” Sam growled. “Somebody in town is bound to recognize you. Are you forgetting what happened the day you left Medicine Gore? The FBI might have concluded you didn’t have anything to do with blowing up that dam, but they never caught the bastards. The townspeople probably still think you’re responsible for Charlie Sands’s death.” He stepped up to the desk. “At least take Jesse with you.”

“Jesse will be running Tidewater International while I’m gone. We’re right in the middle of purchasing five new cargo ships, and the details still have to be worked out.”

“Dammit, Ben,” Sam snapped. “You need to think this through.”

“It’s the only thing I havebeen thinking about for three weeks.” Ben slid the note back in its envelope, set it and the photo back in the folder, then tucked the folder under his arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to finish packing.”

Sam stepped around the desk to head him off. “At least take Ronald with you.”

Ben gave a sharp laugh. “Showing up with a driver who looks like a hit man will certainly give the right impression. No, this is my problem, and I’ll deal with it my way.” He touched Sam’s arm. “Don’t worry, big brother, I can take care of myself.”

Ben headed for the door, but stopped and looked back to Sam. “Oh, and that little wager the three of us had going, that you could persuade Willa to marry you and get her pregnant within two months of the wedding? Even though you succeeded on both counts, I believe your and Jesse’s millions should go into a trust for Michael, seeing how Bram’s firstgreat-grandson won by fifteen years.”

With that, Ben walked into the hall and up the stairs, his smile fading as his thoughts turned to tomorrow’s journey into the northern Maine woods.

Chapter One

J ust as surely asit would snow this winter, Tom Jenkins would be trouble. Most of her guests from big cities were trouble, but usually they had the decency to actually arrivebefore they sent her business into chaos. Tom Jenkins hadn’t even made it to Medicine Creek Camps, and already he was causing her fits.

The man was lost.

Emma was sorely tempted to leave him that way.

But here she was, walking down yet another one of the tote roads that spiderwebbed through her neck of the woods, trying to remember why she loved this business so much. Emma sighed, resigned to the fact that she would smile nicely when she found Tom Jenkins, tell him it was her fault he was lost, and get him tucked into his cabin.

When she rounded a curve in the logging road, though, she stopped in disbelief. Four men, supposedly her friends, were beating up her missing guest.

The brawl had been mighty, if the torn clothes and bloody faces and churned gravel were any indication. It must have been raging quite a while, too, from the looks of the hard-breathing men. But with the odds so uneven, the outcome was inevitable. Her lost guest was now being held between two burly loggers while another tried to pound him senseless.

Only the man was notTom Jenkins. Emma immediately realized that hiding behind all that blood, beard, and a mask of pain was the one man on earth she had sworn to kill should she ever get the chance.

He shouldn’t be here, in her woods, turning this beautiful October afternoon into yet another black day of her life. Even the sun had suddenly gone behind a cloud, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.