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DNA Tests To Prove Paternity of Tiny Fortune Heir
Males in the Fortune clan are reluctantly rolling up their sleeves this week to give blood samples for a DNA test that should solve the mystery surrounding who fathered abandoned child Taylor Fortune. Insiders report a virtual mob of nervous tycoons outside Red Rock’s criminologist office—now that’s a bread line with a lotta dough!
But it’s the ladies who are lined up and clamoring for the attention of Logan Fortune. The marriage-elusive executive’s latest “acquisition” is a gal he’s been spotted hugging, kissing…and burping. Seems that when darling daughter Amanda Sue appeared on his doorstep, Logan promptly promoted his devoted corporate assistant to live-in mommy. Rumor has it Girl Friday Emily Applegate still fetches Logan’s coffee—but now she does it in her nightie!
Don’t miss next month’s Fortune update exclusively in The Tattler!
About the Author
ARLENE JAMES
grew up in Oklahoma and has lived all over the South. In 1976 she married “the most romantic man in the world.” The author enjoys traveling with her husband, but writing has always been her chief pastime. Arlene is also the author of the inspirational titles Proud Spirit, A Wish for Always, Partners for Life and No Stranger to Love.
Corporate Daddy
Arlene James
Logan Fortune: When the powerful CEO inherited his motherless daughter, he enlisted the help of his capable assistant. Would time spent in Emily’s arms have Logan looking for more than just daddy lessons?
Emily Applegate: This plain-Jane secretary’s heart melted when she saw Logan cuddling his newfound baby girl. Could she convince her handsome boss that there was no need to hire a nanny…because he had a potential wife and mother for his child right outside his office door?
Baby Taylor: The identity of the recovered baby is still a mystery. But rumors were running rampant among the Fortune family about his true parentage, especially since the adorable child has the Fortune crown-shaped birthmark.
Jace Lockhart: Ryan Fortune’s brother-in-law recently returned to Texas for a hometown visit. And this globe-trotting journalist might just find love where he least expects it.
To MJ, the best of editors. Much thanks. DAR
Contents
One
“So she’s really ours.”
Mary Ellen Lockhart Fortune tucked her thick, wavy red hair behind her ears and made a silly face at her wriggling granddaughter who smiled, yawned, rubbed her eyes and flipped over onto her belly, quickly crawling toward the end of the couch. Mary Ellen and her tall, handsome son, Logan, both made a grab for the child. Logan reached her first, coming off his seat on the ottoman at his mother’s knee. Holding his daughter at arm’s length—much like an escaped piglet that had found the mud hole—he gingerly carried her back to the original spot and sat her next to his mother. Sixteen-month-old Amanda Sue promptly flopped and flipped, emitting a shrieking grunt in the process, as if warning him not to interfere with her plans again. Mary Ellen chuckled. Logan quivered. The battle of wills his surprise baby daughter had been waging with him these past two hours was wearing on him.
“She’s a Fortune, all right,” he muttered, capturing his daughter again. Amanda Sue twisted and screamed, then went limp and put back her head in a dramatic sob for release. “That temperament confirms it, as if the blue eyes, hereditary crown-shaped birthmark and the blood test didn’t. Plus, her hair’s almost as red as yours, a little darker, maybe.”
“She looks like you and Eden,” Mary Ellen said wonderingly.
“I’m not sure my sister would appreciate being lumped into the same category of looks as me,” Logan said, struggling to put his daughter back on the couch, “but I did notice that Amanda Sue looks like some of Eden’s baby pictures, discounting the hair, of course.”
“Was her mother red haired?” Mary Ellen asked gently.
Amanda Sue stopped wriggling and looked up alertly. “Mama,” she called. “Mama?”
“Poor darling,” Mary Ellen crooned, gathering the child against her. Amanda Sue crammed her hand in her mouth and waited, as if listening for her mother’s voice.
Logan sighed. “Her m-o-t-h-e-r was a blonde.” He spelled out the word to avoid causing his bewildered daughter to ask for what she could not have, ever again.
“Her name was Bailey, wasn’t it?” Mary Ellen went on. “Donna Bailey?”
Amanda Sue’s ears seemed to perk up, but she made no sound. Mary Ellen eased the pacifier pinned to Amanda Sue’s T-shirt into the child’s mouth. The baby sucked absently.