"Luke, you're not listening. We have to be a family. So get over yourself."

  Elizabeth wasn't wrong. He glanced at his door and longed to deal with his patients, who he could help unlike his sister and her crisis. She made him feel helpless. If everything worked out, today's shift would be a rare one with simple, easy-to-fix patients.

  Right now he had patients. He couldn’t help his sister or locate their brother for his help either. He was older than Elizabeth by seven minutes. Last he heard, their other brother, Matthew, had been at some conference in Brussels for a few weeks now.

  He took a deep breath and told Liz, "Sis, please think about what I said. I have to go now."

  She met his gaze, and he saw her lower lip push out in a pout that always got to him. "I need you to come with me to Peter and Belle's wedding. He's our brother."

  No. Mitch Morgan, their father, had forced their mother into seclusion and sent the three of them to boarding school as soon as they were six. Now he understood Mitch had kept Peter, Victoria and John from their mom and then taken the three of them from her too. He hadn't known till well after college, and then Liz's son was kidnapped a week after they reconnected with their own mother. Liz had to see that the three other siblings meant more bad news for the rest of them. Their father had to have a hand in this.

  "You should have come to the party with Mom."

  "I don't want to meet them."

  "Are you going to tell Mom that?"

  Their mom saw the appearance of John, Peter and Victoria as a blessed miracle. He'd have better luck with negotiating peace in the Middle East. His stance widened as he slipped a printout that was automatically forwarded from a nurse into his white doctor's coat.

  Liz didn't mention the interruption and continued with her argument. "From what I read, our sister, Victoria, thought her own daughter was dead. For all we know our father could have done the same to me."

  At least she had the same suspicions he had. "He died the same time as the kidnapping. I have no way of retracing that man's steps and that’s exactly why I don’t want us to bother with them. Mitch Morgan kept Peter at his side at all times."

  An email came through about a new patient that might be dehydrated. He sucked in his breath and stood.

  "Liz, our world is fine without the rest of them." An alarm went off that indicated there was an emergency. "I have to go for now. I have patients."

  She stepped in his way and blocked the door. "You don't have a life either. All you do is work. Come to the wedding and all the festivities that begin tomorrow."

  The alarm ended, which meant another doctor was already there.

  An argument here would be heard, and he had a reputation. He couldn't call Peter and John his brothers, not if they were anything like their father. He couldn't take a chance.

  So he deflected what he wanted to say. "I don't have a tux."

  She shrugged. "I'll send it over to your condo on Collins Ave."

  His forehead was hot, but he still kept what he wanted to say to himself. He glanced around her to the door.

  "I don't have a date, and you and Mom have wedding duties."

  She smiled and again stepped in his way, so he couldn't clear a path. "I'll set you up with a hot woman to have on your arms for the night."

  The last time he’d kissed a woman in Miami, it had scorched his soul. Caro Soliz was a college dream, who probably was married with three children now.

  He lowered his voice and narrowed his gaze. "You're finding me a date now?"

  She dropped her hands to her sides. At least now she seemed more like the girl he grew up with.

  "I'm your sister."

  He squared his shoulders. "We don't know anyone in Miami. We’ve been here less than a month."

  "You moved because you’re a good son. I moved here as the investigators tracked Brandon to Miami." She smiled like she would for some child. He shook his head as she said, "You have this nice job already. Matthew will be transferred to a Miami branch soon. We're all going, and it would be wrong for you to miss it. It's Christmas, Luke. I need that miracle."

  Miracles weren't just offered. A brief vision of Caro Soliz flashed in his mind. He blinked and the thought left him.

  "Where are you finding this woman for me?"

  She shuffled on her feet. "I have my ways."

  She had no clue. He should let her and then whatever disaster she found, he could tease her about for the next decade. At least she wasn't crying again.

  He smiled. "Fine. It seems you are determined."

  "I am."

  The teasing needed a set up. "You owe me."

  "How do you figure that?"

  Anything that helped keep her smiling would be good, though he already imagined what a horrible date she'd find at the last minute. "I'm letting you find me a date for a wedding. I'm sure I'll have something to say once I meet this woman."

  "Trust me."

  If she needed him at this wedding for the show, then fine, he'd go. He tapped his fingers on her arm to ensure she was listening.

  "In most things, no problem, but I've met the line of losers that you called your boyfriends."

  She shook her head. "And the quiet mice that you brought home to dinner were what? Stellar examples of your taste?"

  One of the losers she had dated might have been the one who kidnapped Liz's child. What happened that day sounded too planned out. He'd spent money finding every possible ex of hers, but he never found Brandon. If the kidnapping was related to their dead father, their new last name should be kept a secret, not advertised. He kept these thoughts to himself and focused on what she said.

  "I like quiet women. You and Mom are the opposite and can give me a headache."

  Her lips curled into a smile. "Stop it. Now go to your patients. I have work to do."

  At least she seemed stable at the moment. He reached out and hugged Liz as he said, "I love ya, sis."

  She turned to leave, but glanced over her shoulder. "Don't try to butter me up, and thank you for this weekend."

  He waited for her to leave, and then checked his paper printout on his next patient. He read numbers and realized this wasn't life threatening, but the patient might be distraught.

  As he walked down the hall, decorated with Christmas cheer, he picked up the patient chart outside the first door on his rounds.

  Now if he could wave his magic wand, he'd somehow help his sister find her missing son and help his own mother stay calm. As he slipped into the patient's room, he let his own thoughts go and put his effort into diagnosing what was next. Here, he knew what to do. Here he didn’t wonder if Brandon was dead and he hadn’t been able to find him. The ache in his heart grew stronger every day.

  The House of Morgan

  Secret Crush

  Secret Baby

  Secret Bet

  Secret Wish

  Secret Dad

  Secret Heir

  Secret Tryst

  Secret Date (Coming Soon)

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  Secret Dad Preview

  Rafe Soliz held back his sneer as he knocked on the massive mahogany front door of the billion dollar home belonging to one of the newly-found Morgans. Star Island was not where he'd intended to spend his evening, but once again, he had a Morgan crisis to solve and his wishes didn’t matter.

  His mother had worked for the family as a maid when he was growing up, and then his sister, Caro. He had joined Miami PD, yet somehow he was always stuck solving problems for the richer-than-King Midas family.

  This art deco style home was probably spun with gold, as it sat next to the original House of Morgan where Peter Morgan now resided. He gritted his teeth.

  Strange, though, that he hadn’t been given this assignment immediately. Miami PD usually sent the Morgan cases directly to him, but somehow his sister sniffed this one out while on her big date with some doctor named Luke.

  Rafe rapped once more on the solid front door to alert the family inside that he’d arrived. His sister had asked him to personally look into this case, despite how he felt about the House of Morgan. Like a peasant who waited on his overlord in the olden days, he had a letter from the governor that he was to assist in all Morgan matters.

  Waiting, he stared at an ostentatious statue on the front lawn and dug out his badge. Coldness creeped into his spine, but he squared his shoulders.

  He was here to do a job and kidnappings were the worst. Finally Ashley Romero, a maid and friend of his sister, answered the door and he tucked his badge back into his pocket. "Hey Ashley, I'm here to meet Miss Elizabeth Morgan."

  "She's waiting for you in the library."

  Rafe wiped his black leather shoes on the bamboo door mat, just inside the marble foyer. Rafe assumed Ashley must have told his sister, Caro, about the kidnapping. He heard sobs in the background. His ears burned and he wondered if he knew whoever it was that cried. A woman's tears equaled heartbreak. Because of the Morgan name, anyone might have taken the missing boy for ransom.

  As the door closed, Rafe glanced around him. More polished marble that would freeze a man’s heels, but then he sneered at the extravagent black vase that probably cost more than his mother's lifetime salary of working for this family.

  The maid led him toward a room down the hall. As they passed the living room, he recognized the dark curls of Caro, sitting next to her new boyfriend, Dr. Luke ‘Marshall’, on the loveseat, holding hands as they talked with Isabelle Morgan. The matriarch of the clan had recently come out of hiding with three Morgan children, of which Elizabeth was one. Luke said, ‘Mother’ in the conversation.

  He'd ask his sister later what they’d been talking about and followed the maid toward the library where the mother of the kidnapped boy must be waiting, frantic. Even if he didn’t care for the Morgan family, kidnappings were an awful crime.

  He turned the brass knob and entered, already rehearsing the standard phrases one used to comfort the parents of kidnap victims. He froze as he heard a whimper.

  In his experience, though kidnappings lacked the blood and gore of a murder, these were some of the worst crime scenes, because the emotions, especially the grieving mother’s, cut right into his soul.

  His footsteps sounded heavy once he entered the room and he stopped. Goosebumps grew on his arm. Vanilla invaded his senses but as he searched the library, he detected no flowers in any vases on the table or window.

  A blonde, willowy woman stood at the window, gazing out into the night sky over the pool that was next to the Intracoastal. Her figure seemed almost perfect outlined from the shadow. His body heated with desire and he swallowed. This was not how he investigated any crime. He cleared his throat and took out a pen and paper. "Ma'am."

  "Rafe!" His head bobbed up fast and he squeezed the pen hard as he met clear blue eyes wide with recognition. The pen shook, that sweet voice was unmistakable. He swallowed, not sure if this was a dream or a nightmare.

  That night in Vegas, with her fingers wrapped in his hair as she kissed him passionately on his hotel bed, replayed in his memory. Two years ago? "It's you!" she said.

  "Yeah." Liz wasn’t a mom and hadn’t lived in Miami. She couldn’t be Elizabeth Morgan. Somehow he had to be wrong. Vegas Liz must work for the Morgans. Was he in the wrong room? Her blue dress was probably a name brand, and put together with that classic tilt of her chin? The names matched. His lips pressed together. "Your name is Elizabeth Morgan?"

  "This can't be happening." She waved her hands in front of her as she looked upwards.

  "I never thought I'd see you again." He’d been at his friend's bachelor party in Las Vegas when he met Liz in a casino as she played the slot machine next to him. Her blue jeans had clung to her legs like butter on toast, and her smile had been enticing. When she’d laughed? He’d been filled with desire to kiss her.

  Things heated up and they’d gone back to his room, but she’d left while he was asleep and he’d never learned her full name. Until this moment, he had thought that event to be the best night of his life.

  She squinted at his badge and hugged her waist. "Yes, Officer Soliz, it's me."

  They’d exchanged first names only that night. He straightened his shoulders. Naked Vegas Liz as she moaned out his name while he entered her was something he needed to forget so could do his job. "My name is Rafe."

  "Yeah." She rocked backward like she saw a ghost and her eyes misted. "I remember."

  At the casino that night, he’d helped her find a cashier after she’d won on the slot machine, excitement in her huge blue eyes. The exact opposite of her expression now. He took a step toward her, but she backed into the wall. He froze, not wanting to frighten her. "I didn't know your last name."

  "I didn't know yours,” she said. “We should have exchanged that."

  He’d come here to investigate the kidnapping of a one-year-old boy. Had she been married at the time and that’s why she’d left so fast? There was still no ring on her finger.

  “I wanted your number but you’d disappeared.” The night in Vegas had been out of character for him, swept away by being near her. Vegas was twenty two months ago. Could it be? No. Rafe tucked his pen and paper in his pocket and then showed her his hands, palm up. “Trust me. I’m here to help you.”

  Tears sprang from her eyes as her entire body shook. "Why?"

  "You need me.” He'd find out who the father was of her child. She hadn't been pregnant then. He kept his body loose and his palms stayed open to not frighten her. "I am here to help you find your missing son."

  She scoffed. "How can you of all people help me?"

  "I'm a detective, ma'am." He held his pen to the paper like it was evidence of his skills, but his hand itched to show her his badge. The usual victim didn’t ask the detective for his resume. His cheeks warmed. If she didn’t want to talk about Vegas, he wouldn’t either. "I helped your brother John find Alice when she was kidnapped. I helped your sister Victoria clear her name and I’ve helped your brother, Peter, many times."

  Liz glanced away. "That's not what I meant, Rafe. It shouldn't be you who came to my door."

  "I realize this is awkward but let me do my job, Liz." He needed to ask who the father was of the missing boy. His gut churned as he calculated how fast she’d found someone else or else she’d had a fling, and cheated on her husband.

  "Your job isn't what I meant." She then glared at him like he was the cause of all her problems.

  His gaze narrowed. His soul begged to know what happened to her after she’d disappeared from his hotel room. "What do you mean?"

  She took a step forward. "Because we have a son who is missing. Brandon is yours."

  A huge boom echoed in his heart and reverberated through his entire body, like it was the orchestra that highlighted the moment. No. He was not the kind of man to father and then abandon a child. Cold sweat dripped down his spine as he planted his feet. "My son? How do I know you're telling the truth?"

  She crossed her arms and shook her head as her blonde straight hair billowed down her elegant neck. "Despite what happened in Vegas that night, I don't sleep around."

  The world tilted on its axis. Not fathering a child out of wedlock had been his motto for his entire life. The condom he’d bought at the hotel had slipped, but what were the odds? "Did you even try to find me?"

  She glanced at the ceiling, as if in prayer. "I didn't know your last name or anything about you. I had no idea you lived in Miami."

  His heart raced. Clearly he’d made many mistakes that night in Vegas. There was a buzz in the air. He pushed because he had to know. "When you found out you were pregnant, you didn't demand the hotel give you that information? You didn't use your Morgan influence?"

  "No. I didn't think about it." She adjusted her pendant that likely cost more than his monthly salary.

  Figures. The Morgans always did what they wanted, even the newly found Morgan siblings. Meanwhile his life was imploding in on itself. "Forget it.” 22 months minus 9 months of pregnancy put his son at 13 months. The math added, but in order to keep his sanity, he needed to deal in facts only. “Tell me everything about the kidnapping."

  Liz picked up a silver-framed picture from the side table and handed it to him as her hand trembled. Rafe gripped the edges and somehow hoped he didn't see himself. Then he stared at the portrait and saw in this baby the eyes of his mother. His family all had walnut-shaped brown eyes. His heart constricted. She hugged her waist as she said, "This is his picture."

  Rafe flinched. The baby with blond streaks in his hair looked to be about six months old. He recalled a boy at the station a week ago with the same brown eyes, but that boy had been bigger and was part of his police partner and friend's murder investigation.

  That kid had been a year old—his child would be a year old. His body grew hot as his stomach churned. He’d struck up a conversation at the station with the boy’s aunt and he’d held the child during the investigation. What if that was him? Bile grew in his throat. Had he held his son and hadn't known?

  What if he was wrong? He'd not tell Liz until he investigated further. There was no need to get her hopes up to then crush them. He just stared at the picture. "What’s his name and how old is he? He looks small here."

  She gazed at his face and then the picture and then at him again. "Brandon, and yes, he’s only six months in that picture. He’s a year now."

  "He has the Soliz eyes and chin."

  "I always thought he seemed determined with that chin."

  If he was wrong about the boy from last week, he shouldn't say anything to offer false hope. He held his tongue, but prayed he could return her baby to her today or tomorrow, if he was right. "I will find him as fast as I can, but walk me through what happened."

  She closed her eyes and rocked on her feet. "I want to believe in you."

  He reached out and placed his palm on her shoulder, to comfort her, but then a jolt hit him. She must have felt it too because her eyes widened. He swallowed. "Liz, tell me everything."