“Can I help?” Sydney asked Kyle.

Kyle closed his eyed and dropped back into his chair. He shook his head. “It’s the talk of kids.”

Cole slowly sat, opening his mouth to ask for an explanation, but Sydney’s fingers closed on his thigh again.

He felt like a bull in a china shop. What was he missing here?

“She hoped to be pregnant by now,” said Kyle.

Cole went cold.

Sydney tossed her napkin onto the table. “I am going to make sure she’s okay.”

Both men rose with her.

After Sydney disappeared, Kyle moved restlessly to the rail, taking a long, steady swig of his wine.

Cole followed, not sure of what to say. He and Kyle didn’t exactly have heart-to-heart talks about their sex lives, never mind their sperm counts. Was this a medical problem? Did they need to see a doctor?

“Are you…” he began. “Uh, do you…”

“The doctor thinks it’s stress,” said Kyle. “But we don’t know anything for sure, and Katie’s worried she’ll never have kids.”

Cole could have kicked himself. “And I was a big help.”

Kyle snorted out a dry chuckle as he gazed out over the Blue Hills. “Next time, watch my expression and grab a clue.”

“Next time I’ll pay attention when Sydney mangles my thigh.” Cole regretted his bull-headed stupidity. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Get married and have some babies so Katie doesn’t have this whole dynasty thing on her shoulders.”

“That would be a trick.”

“Hey, you’ve got a bona fide offer in my kitchen.”

“We could have a bona fide con artist in your kitchen. Besides, Sydney doesn’t want babies, she wants the Thunderbolt. I’m pretty sure this is a platonic offer.”

Kyle turned to face Cole. He braced his elbow on the rail and a speculative gleam rose in his eyes.

“What?” asked Cole, dragging the word out slowly, trepidation rising.