Read Online All He Really Needs by Emily McKay - Free Book Online Page A

love with when he was
younger. As hard a time as Sydney had imagining Dalton—her serious and stoic
boss—falling in love at all, she was glad that he seemed to have found
happiness, even if he hadn’t found his missing sister.
    But Laney had believed the girl in this photo might be the
missing girl. There was another picture of the girl’s mother stapled behind the
first. In that picture, she was still pregnant and she had her arm around the
shoulder of another pregnant woman—Laney’s mother. More importantly, the picture
had been taken in the Cain’s backyard.
    Laney’s grandmother had Alzheimer’s and could tell them nothing
about the young woman or the girl. However—according to Laney’s notes—Matilda’s
incoherent ramblings had led Laney to believe that the woman had a connection to
Hollister, a connection that might have put her in danger.
    Was all this conjecture, or was this a real lead?
    Sydney looked at the two pictures and frowned. “I don’t know,”
she said finally. “The connection seems specious at best.”
    “I know. It isn’t a lot to go on.”
    Sydney looked up to study Griffin, but once again she was
frustrated by his chameleon charm. His mouth was twisted into a smile, but she
couldn’t read his emotions. Was he as doubtful as she was, or did he believe
this girl on the beach was his sister?
    Glancing down at the picture, he said, “It would help if
whoever took the picture was close enough to see the girl’s eyes.”
    “Why?”
    “Well, if she had Cain-blue eyes, then we’d know for sure
Hollister was her father.”
    “Cain-blue?” Sydney asked.
    “Sure. Didn’t you ever notice that my eyes and Dalton’s are the
same color?”
    “No” She couldn’t keep her skepticism from her voice. “Blue
eyes are blue eyes. But you and Dalton look nothing alike.”
    “Maybe not,” Griffin chided. “But our eyes are almost
identical.”
    Before she could scoff, he grabbed her hand and tugged her
gently to her feet, positioning her to stand between his outstretched legs.
    “Look,” he gently urged her. “Tell me Dalton and I don’t have
the same eyes.”
    She had no choice but to gaze into Griffin’s eyes. Standing
this close, she was hit with the scent of him. All fresh and minty. His hand,
warm and dry, still clenched one of hers. His thumb rubbed idly across the back
of her hand. She was struck by how gentle his touch, but how rough his skin,
was.
    She had been touched by him enough—and intimately at that—that
she knew the skin on his hands was roughened as if by hard manual labor, but for
the life of her, she’d still couldn’t imagine what he might be doing in his
spare time to earn those calluses.
    Giving her head a little shake, she tried to focus on his
eyes.
    “Well, for starters, the shape of your eyes is totally
different. His eyes are rounder. Yours are more almond shaped. And crinkly.”
    “You’re saying I squint?” he teased, his hands releasing hers
to settle on her hips. With nowhere else to put them, she dropped her own hands
to his waist.
    “No,” she harumphed. “I’m saying you laugh. Dalton never
laughs. Besides, Dalton has this way of looking right through someone. His eyes
have this soulless quality. It’s not disdain or annoyance. Just
disinterest.”
    Griffin chuckled. “Exactly. So what about me?”
    And this was what stumped her.
    “You…really look at people,” she began slowly. Sometimes,
when he looked at her, she felt as though he could see into her very soul, but
she wasn’t going to say that aloud. “And I’m not entirely sure that’s a good
thing because sometimes I’m still not sure if you smile because you enjoy being
with people or if human nature amuses you.”
    The smile slowly faded from his expression and she felt the
tension in his hands. Like he was trying to decide if he should push her away or
pull her closer.
    Part of her knew she should probably stop talking right then
and there, but instead she finished