Free The Billionaire's Touch (The Sinclairs #3) by J. S. Scott Page A

Evan could see many of Hope’s features in the baby, too, and his heart had swelled with unexpected pride the first time he saw his new nephew. He wasn’t a man who thought much about babies, but David was one of their own, and his protective instinct had kicked into gear almost immediately after seeing the innocent baby. Evan knew he’d be busy in the years ahead making sure his nephew was on the right path. Not that he didn’t trust his sister and Jason as parents, but Hope hadn’t exactly picked a safe career choice. He wouldn’t interfere, of course, but he’d check in often on the first of the new generation of Sinclairs to see if his nephew needed . . . guidance. Technically, Evan knew David was a Sutherland, but it didn’t matter what his last name was; he had Sinclair blood and Evan considered him a Sinclair, his baby sister’s child and Evan’s first nephew.
    Evan looked at Hope because she still hadn’t answered his question. His sister looked unusually disconcerted. He cocked an eyebrow at her and she looked at him carefully, as though she was contemplating how to answer.
    Finally, she said carefully, “No. She wasn’t born here. Randi moved from California to Amesport when she was fourteen.”
    “With her parents?” Evan didn’t think it was that unusual to change locations. People did it all the time for various reasons.
    “With her new parents,” Hope admitted. “Randi was sort of a foster child to the Tylers.”
    “Sort of?” How could somebody be “sort of” a foster child? They either were fostered or they weren’t, no matter how long of a time they remained with their foster parents.
    Hope shrugged and gave Evan a pleading glance. “It’s Randi’s story to tell. I’ve told you what I’m comfortable revealing. The Tylers were elderly, but they gave her a good home.”
    Her name is really Miranda.
    Her foster parents were elderly, now most likely deceased.
    She loves junk food.
    Evan stopped walking abruptly, alarm bells screeching loudly in his mind. It couldn’t possibly be . . .
    “Did she lose her foster mother recently?” Evan held his breath, his jaw clenched tightly. What were the chances?
    Coincidence. Highly unlikely. There was no way that Randi was . . .
    “Yes.” Hope looked at Evan suspiciously. “How did you know? Joan passed away over a month ago. Randi was completely devastated.”
    “Fuck!” The expletive shot out of his mouth like a cannonball. “There’s no damn way!”
    Hope reached out and grasped his arm, smiling at the people staring at Evan, as though she was trying to tell them everything was fine. “I think you’re scaring the other customers. What’s the matter?”
    “Nothing,” he replied in a husky voice, looking down into Hope’s concerned expression. “Everything,” he admitted reluctantly.
    He felt like he’d just taken a forceful punch in the gut by a heavyweight.
    He had no doubt in his mind that Randi Tyler and his mysterious M. were the same woman. It was no coincidence. The chances of two women in Amesport losing an elderly foster mother just a short time ago were just too far of a stretch. “Let’s finish,” he told Hope in a milder voice, edging the cart forward.
    Hope gave him a dubious look, but she continued putting items in the cart while Evan tried to process the information he’d just discovered. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Randi did a lot of volunteer work at the Center, and she was good friends with Emily.
    “So is Randi seeing anyone?” Evan asked curiously as he watched Hope carefully place a sugar-filled cake into the basket. The entire cart was loaded now. Randi could probably survive a very long siege if she had to, even if the majority of the items weren’t all that nutritious.
    Hope shot him a sideways glance and shook her head. “No serious relationship. Tessa has been trying to get her to go out with her brother, Liam. The two of them own Sullivan’s Steak and Seafood.