Manning—aka R. G. McCall—was thirty-two years old, living in New York, and had been working as an investigative reporter for the past ten years with a major newspaper. After his painful divorce and suffering from writer’s block, Ryan decided to take a year off. His other love was cooking, so he opened a restaurant in Manhattan. However, his passion for the written word and the truth called him back into news reporting—this time as a freelance writer. His restaurant had turned out to be a very successful venture and was currently managed by his brother.
A news short on television caught Ryan’s eye.
The story of Malcolm Alexander inheriting the DePaul estate was still news, even though Robert DePaul had been gone for almost a year. People were still hungry for any information about this family from a small town in Georgia who had captured the hearts of the people in Los Angeles.
What’s so special about them? he wondered—outside of being fortunate enough to have Robert DePaul’s blood running through their veins.
The late Robert DePaul had been a very generous man during his lifetime. Ryan had heard many stories of Robert paying off medical bills of complete strangers, bestowing cars upon some who could not afford to buy one and even taking in a homeless man, giving him a job. He had often championed the rights of the homeless over the years.
Ryan’s current project was going to be a series of articles on the plight of homeless people in large cities—more specifically, Beverly Hills and some of the wealthier areas across the country. He had always been vocal in his criticism of how many of the wealthy residents complain about the homeless, but instead of trying to help, they treat them like criminals. There were those who were eager to spend thousands on a pair of shoes instead of giving a few dollars to a homeless person. To prove his point, Ryan spent some time on the streets of New York gathering firsthand information for his article.
Later that evening, he was flying to Los Angeles. He was going undercover as a homeless man in Beverly Hills. He wanted to profile some of the homeless people who lived in the shadows of Southern California’s most affluent areas.
Ryan decided to include the Alexander family in his series along with a select group of celebrities. He wanted to see whether Malcolm Alexander had inherited his father’s philanthropic nature. He was curious to see if the Alexander family was as wonderful as everyone assumed. People could only keep up an act for so long.
He knew that the members of the family would eventually slip up, and then the truth would come out about them. Ryan intended to be the one to report it.
* * *
To pass the time on the airplane, Ryan decided to draft parts of his article. He hoped that his writing on the subject of homelessness challenged those who were more fortunate to experience what these people had to deal with on a daily basis and moved them to take action.
His hands tapped a steady rhythm on the keyboard of his laptop.
In this manicured community of 35,000, Rolls-Royces and Lamborghinis glide around the city streets of Beverly Hills and movie stars live in grand mansions….
Ryan paused a moment, reading what he had typed, then he added, However, this city does not just boast of celebrities but is also well-known for its small population of scruffy residents who live in parks, bus shelters and alleys.
He was not sure that was exactly how he would begin the article, but it worked for the moment.
Ryan leaned his head back and closed his eyes, resting them. He had not realized just how exhausted he was until this very moment. Before leaving New York, he’d had to make sure that his brother had everything under control at the restaurant. Ryan had also wanted to finish another project, so he’d stayed up late last night and woke up early. He closed up the laptop and put it away before falling asleep.
He woke up an hour later. They would not be landing in Los Angeles for another two hours, so Ryan retrieved his laptop and opened it. He decided to attempt to complete the introduction for his article.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
Ryan glanced around until he met the gaze of a beautiful young woman. She smiled brightly, pleased that she had caught his attention.
He smiled in return.
Ryan had dated some since his divorce, but his constant traveling prevented him from investing any real time into a relationship. However, Sandra had put him through two years of pure hell. Ryan was pretty sure that he would never marry again.
He refused to allow another woman to shatter his heart into a million pieces ever again.
Chapter 2
Sage and her future sister-in-law, Natasha LeBlanc, exited the Alexander-DePaul Beverly Hills Hotel, heading to a nearby bridal shop on foot.
It was a beautiful and sunny June day, perfect for a stroll. Sage loved the outdoors and often walked to many of the nearby shops and eateries.
“I love seeing Ari with Joshua,” Sage commented as they walked. “I’m so glad that he has you both in his life.”
Natasha smiled. “He’s not my son’s biological father, but I couldn’t ask for anyone more wonderful than Ari.”
Her oldest brother had married his childhood sweetheart right out of college, but lost her to cancer a couple years ago. She had worried that Ari would never stop grieving for April. Then Natasha and her son, Joshua, entered his life a year ago, giving Ari a reason for living again.
“But after tomorrow, it will be official,” Natasha stated. “I’m relieved that the adoption has gone through without a hitch. Although I have to confess that there is this tiny part of me that resents the fact that my ex-husband wants nothing to do with his son.” She released a short sigh. “No need to worry about the past, though. I have Ari.”
“If you say he completes you, I’m going to barf,” Sage interjected with a small chuckle.
Natasha laughed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sage noticed a lone homeless man standing near the entrance.
Her steps slowed as their eyes met and held.
The trance was broken when two hotel security members walked outside, gesturing for him to leave the property grounds.
Sage quickly intervened. “He’s not doing anything.”
One of the men told her, “Some of the guests have complained, Miss Alexander—”
“I understand that you’re doing your job, Tom,” she responded. “But everything is fine. You can go back inside now.”
Sage told Natasha, “Wait here a moment, please.” She walked over to the stranger in clothes that had seen better days and said, “I’m sorry for the actions of my security personnel.” She pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of her wallet and offered it to the homeless man. “I hope this will help you in some way.”
He was clearly surprised by her generosity. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”
Sage noted the rich timbre of his baritone voice.
“If you’re
