him of a lioness defending her cub.
As for the baby... Something jerked around Emilio’s heart as he studied the boy. The dark Latino coloring was like his own family’s, but he could see traces of Cassidy, as well. Dirty face and all, the child was perfection.
So this was Arturo’s son.
He found his voice. “Grace Chandler? My name is Emilio Santana.”
“I know who you are.” Her arms tightened around the baby. “My question is, what are you doing here?”
“This may take some time. May I come in?”
“Of course.” Despite the courteous words, she was visibly bristling with distrust as she stepped aside for him to enter. The house was small but tastefully furnished and well kept. Emilio saw no sign of a man about the place, and the woman wasn’t wearing a ring. Good—that would make things simpler.
“Please sit down,” she said, nodding toward a leather armchair. “When you rang the doorbell, I was about to clean up this baby and change him. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Take your time. I can wait.”
As she headed down the hall, Emilio settled back in the chair. He was grateful for the chance to compose his thoughts. The impact of seeing his brother’s son had staggered him. He was still grappling with his emotions. But one thing was already certain. Young Zac was his last link to Arturo and the heir to the Santana name. The boy was Emilio’s insurance that, whether he married or not, the family legacy would continue. He would not be going back to Peru without him.
As for the boy’s aunt... He’d managed some online research during his private flight from Lima. Grace Chandler, he’d learned, was an accomplished children’s book illustrator. The website he’d found hadn’t included a photo, so her chiseled, blonde good looks had come as a pleasant surprise—especially those long, golden legs...
But he would tuck that thought away for a more suitable time.
He surveyed the small room—the colorful cushions, the shelves filled with books, the thriving green plants in handmade pots and the guitar propped in one corner. Everything looked comfortable and well cared for, though certainly a far cry from the luxury he was accustomed to.
His wandering gaze found a photograph on a low shelf. It showed Cassidy, leaning over an iron railing with the sky behind her. Her emerald eyes were dancing, her rich auburn hair fluttering in the wind. His throat tightened. How could anyone so full of life be gone?
Those weeks that she’d stayed in their home she’d seemed in perfect health. But now Emilio remembered the headaches that had plagued her every few days. Had Cassidy known, even then, that she was dying?
Was it possible that she’d set out to get pregnant with Arturo’s child?
Emilio burned with questions—and his only hope of answers lay with Grace Chandler.
* * *
Grace’s hands shook as she taped Zac’s diaper in place and fastened the clean blue onesie between his plump little legs. At least now he’d look presentable for...dared she even think the word? His uncle?
How could this have happened? After Arturo’s letter, she’d believed it was safe to go ahead with the adoption. She’d started making a lifetime of plans for her stepsister’s son. Now a dark-eyed stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere could change everything. Had Arturo sent him, or had Emilio Santana come on his own?
More important, what did he want?
Settling Zac in the safety of his crib, she pulled off her soiled shirt and replaced it with a clean, black V-necked top. That done, she yanked off her terry cloth sweatband, splashed her face clean and gave her shoulder-length hair a few licks with the brush—after rinsing away the traces of carrot mush. Even as she tidied up, she knew her appearance didn’t matter. She wasn’t the one her visitor had come to see. Her instincts told her that Emilio Santana had come for Zac.
And she meant to fight him with everything she had.
He rose as she returned to the living room with Zac in her arms. In faded jeans, an open-necked white shirt and casual black jacket he looked as elegant as a movie hero. It occurred to Grace that she could’ve taken the baby, crept out the back door and driven away in her car. But she knew it wouldn’t have made any difference. A man like Emilio Santana would have the means to track her down anywhere.
“Will he come to me?”
“He’s not used to strangers. Sit down. I’ll give him a chance to check you out.” Grace lowered herself to the ottoman and put Zac on the rug. “Sorry I don’t have a drink to offer you, Mr. Santana—unless you’d settle for iced tea. I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Please call me Emilio. And don’t worry about the tea.” He took his seat. His English was flawless, his accented voice deep and rich. If she’d closed her eyes, Grace might have pictured Antonio Banderas. But this unsettling man was even better-looking.
Zac had decided to investigate the visitor. He was crawling on all fours toward the chair where Emilio sat. Grace resisted the urge to reach out and pull him back. She’d been present at Zac’s birth and first held him when he was only minutes old. She had loved him from the moment Cassidy told her she had a baby on the way. If this presumptuous man thought she was just going to hand over her child and walk away...
“What’s his full name?” Emilio was studying the baby. “Izac? Zachary?”
“It’s plain Zac—Cassidy’s choice. Zac Miller, legally, although I plan to change the last name to my own when the adoption becomes final.” Grace emphasized the word when.
“I understand you’re no blood relation to the boy.”
The knot in Grace’s stomach tightened. “No, but Cassidy wanted me to raise him. And I have a letter from your brother, consenting to the adoption.”
“I know. I’ve seen a copy of that letter. I found it when I was going through my brother’s files.” His voice went flat. “Arturo’s dead. He was killed in a car crash last month.”
Grace felt her heart drop. She stared at Emilio, waiting for the second blow that was sure to come.
“I checked the status of Zac’s adoption. I know it hasn’t been finalized. As the executor of my brother’s estate, I’m asking you to put it on hold.”
“Why?” Grace’s question emerged as a croak. Her heart was pounding. She felt vaguely nauseous.
“My brother agreed to the adoption on condition that the boy have nothing to do with our family since he planned to marry and start a family with his wife. But his death has changed everything. As far as I know, this boy is Arturo’s only child.”
Zac had reached the chair and used the padded arm to pull himself to his feet. He stood looking up at Emilio with eyes that would melt granite. Emilio brushed a fingertip across the silky curls—a subtle gesture of possession.
Grace snatched the baby into her arms. “So you want to take him. What if I say no?”
His stony expression answered her challenge. “I’ve already contacted my
