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Adria shook her head. “I think the adoption was illegal.”
Jason’s mouth swept into a grin. “This just gets better and better.”
Zach felt his stomach curl at the way Jason stepped closer to Adria—moving in for the kill. “Back off,” he warned his brother.
“Oh, no, she started this.” Jason was suddenly enjoying the evening.
But Adria didn’t back down. “Look,” she said, getting to her feet and staring the brothers down. “I know you’re going to do everything you can to disprove me. I expect you to put me through hell. I did a lot of soul-searching before I came here, because, to put it frankly, I’m not sure I’m London Danvers.”
Jason looked smug, as if he thought she was already hedging her bets. “You’ve changed your mind.”
“No,” she said emphatically and stepped toward him. “I just want you to know where I stand. My father thought I was London.”
“Your father?”
“Victor Nash. He died last year. I didn’t find out the truth until I discovered the tape.”
“That makes things easy, doesn’t it?” Jason asked. “Your father—and I presume your mother, as well—aren’t around to be questioned. But, happily for you, he leaves you a mystery tape telling you that you’re going to inherit millions. Have I got it right so far?”
“Dad thought I should know,” she said, a slight defensive edge to her voice.
“So he gave you some sort of deathbed swan song about you being the lost princess of the Danvers kingdom, is that it?”
She pinned him with eyes that darkened with the pain of her past. “That’s it.”
“And you must believe it or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Of course. But I’m not sure.”
“How much would it cost to convince you that you’re no blood relation?”
“As I said before, it’s not a matter of money. If I find out I’m not London, I’ll leave.”
“And you won’t go running to the press?”
Suddenly she crossed the short distance between Jason and the couch so quickly, Zach’s breath caught. Without the added inches of her heels, she was a full head shorter than Jason, yet she craned her neck upward and glared at him. Two spots of color stained her cheeks. “You may find this impossible to believe,” she said in a voice so low it was nearly inaudible over the hiss of the fire, “but I don’t really care about money. I’ve seen what it’s done to your family as well as a few others, but it is important to me to find out the truth.” Her lips flattened in distaste and her eyes narrowed just a fraction. “Be honest, Jason—wouldn’t you like to know if I’m really London?”
“I already know,” Zach said.
Jason glanced at his brother.
“She’s a fake.” Zach finished his drink.
So like Zach to make a snap judgment, Jason thought. He was so damned cocksure. To Zach, everything was black or white, right or wrong, good or bad. Once again, Jason’s hotheaded brother wasn’t reading the situation the way it was. The reason this woman worried Jason wasn’t because of her incredible resemblance to Kat. Hell, any decent plastic surgeon could alter her face, her black hair could come out of a bottle, and she could be wearing sky-blue contact lenses for all he knew. Her looks weren’t the real problem, though they did worry him more than a little, but it was her attitude that bothered him. Adria was the first person to claim she wasn’t sure of her birthright. Whereas every other imposter, the pretenders to the Danvers crown, were sure of themselves and threatening lawsuits, adverse publicity and stories in newspapers coast to coast. Adria was different…chillingly so.
“Sit down, Miss Nash,” he suggested in a voice that most witnesses in a court of law obeyed instantly.
Unmoving, she stood her ground and from the corner of his eye, Jason saw Zachary’s mouth twitch in amusement. He was enjoying this, because he didn’t have much of a stake in the inheritance. The old man had written him out of his will once and then, as he’d aged Witt had mellowed, tried to patch things up with Zach and offered him the ranch, the only asset that Zach cared about.
Zachary had been reluctant, but finally capitulated. The old man and his rebellious middle son had struck a deal of sorts, something no one ever brought into conversation. There were no signed papers and yet somehow Zach had ended up doing Witt’s bidding and refurbishing the Hotel Danvers. In return, Zach would inherit the ranch in Bend—acres and acres of rich farmland, a drop in the bucket as far as the family fortune was concerned, but worth something nonetheless. The fact that Zach wanted it gave Jason a bargaining point with his headstrong younger brother. Jason suspected that deep down, Zach was just as greedy as the rest of the clan.
If London suddenly were to appear, Zach’s share of the estate wouldn’t alter too much. He had no percentage of the assets, just the damned ranch, which would shrink by a few hundred acres if he had to pay off London for her share. But Jason, Trisha, and Nelson would suffer seriously because Witt, damn him, had talked his lawyers into leaving fifty percent of his holdings, including the value of the ranch, to his youngest daughter. Fifty goddamned percent. There was no provision for the fact that she couldn’t be found. Only after fifty years—fifty years—would the assets revert back to the rest of the estate. By that time, Jason would have one foot planted firmly in the grave.
Hell, what a mess!
Fortunately, most people didn’t know the terms of the will, or there would be London Danvers after London Danvers crawling out of the woodwork trying to get their hands on the fortune.
And this one was glaring defiantly up at him, and looking so much like Kat that he felt the same hot urges he had when he was in his early twenties and his stepmother had been the most gorgeous and sexy woman on this earth. He’d h
