The Billionaire's Daddy Test

The drive to Adam Chase’s estate was far too short. She reached his home in less than twenty minutes. Her nerves prickled as she entered the long driveway and pressed the gate button. After a few seconds, Adam’s strong voice came over the speaker. “Mia?”

“Yes, hello... I’m here.”

Nothing further was said as the wrought-iron gates slid away, concealing themselves behind a row of tall ivy scrubs. She drove on, her hands tight on the steering wheel, her heart pumping. She had half a mind to turn the car around and forget she’d ever met Adam Chase. If only she had the gumption to do that. He would never know he had produced a child. But how fair would that be to him or to Rose? Would she wonder why she didn’t know her father and try to find him once she grew up? Would she pepper her aunt Mia with questions and live her life wondering about her true parents?

In her heart, Mia knew she was doing the right thing. But why did it have to hurt so much?

She parked her car near the front of the house on the circular drive. Adam waited for her on the steps of the elaborate front door, his hands in the pockets of dark slacks. Her breath hitched. A charcoal silk shirt hugged arms rippling with muscle and his silver-gray eyes met hers through the car window. Before she knew it, he was approaching and opening the car door for her. His scent wafted up, clean and subtly citrus.

“Hello, Mia.” His deep voice penetrated her ears.

She took a breath to calm her nerves. “Hi.”

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m all healed up thanks to you.”

“Good to hear. I’ve been looking forward to the meal you promised.” He stretched his hand out to her and she took it. Enveloped in his warmth, she stepped out of the car.

“I hope I didn’t overstate my talents.”

His gaze flowed over her dress first and then sought the depth of her eyes. “I don’t think you did.” A second floated by. “You look very nice.”

“Thank you.”

He spied the grocery bag on the passenger seat and without pause lifted it out. “Ready?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

He walked alongside her, slowing his gait to match hers. As they climbed wide marble steps, he reached for the door and pushed it open for her. Manners he had. Another plus for Adam Chase. “After you,” he said, and once again she stepped inside his mansion.

“I still can’t get over this home, Adam. The bat cave is one thing, but the rest of this house is equally mind-blowing. I bet it was a dream of yours from early on, just like your gallery garage.”

“Maybe it was.”

He was definitely the king of ambiguity. Adam, guarded and private, never gave much away about himself. Already he was fighting her inquiries.

“I’ve got wine ready on the veranda, if you’d like a drink before you start cooking.”

“We.”

“Pardon me?”

“You’re going to help me, Adam.” Maybe she could get him to open up while chopping vegetables and mincing meat.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought I’d just watch.”

“That’s no fun.” She smiled. “You’ll enjoy the meal more knowing you’ve participated.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head. “I’ll try. But I’m warning you, I’ve never been too good in the kitchen.”

“If you can design a house like this, you can sauté veggies. I’m sure of it.”

He chuckled and his entire face brightened. Good to see. She followed him into the kitchen, where he set her bag down on an island counter nearly bigger than the entire kitchen in her apartment. Oh, it would be a thrill cooking in here.

“So what’s the dish called?”

“Tagliatelle Bolognese.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s delicious. Unless you’re a vegetarian. Then you might have issues.”

“You know I’m not.”

She did know that much. They’d shared a meal together. “Well, since the sauce needs simmering for an hour or two, maybe we’ll have our wine after we get the sauce going.”

“Sounds like a plan. What should I do?”

She scanned his pristine clothing. “For one, take your shirt off.”

A smile twitched at his lips. “Okay.”

He reached for the top button on his shirt. After unfastening it, he unbuttoned the next and the next. Mia’s throat went dry as his shirt gaped open, exposing a finely bronzed column of skin. She hadn’t forgotten what he looked like without a shirt. Just three days ago he’d strode out of the sea, soaking wet, taking confident strides to come to her aid.

“Why am I doing this?” he asked finally. He was down to the fourth button.

Her gaze dipped again and she stared at his chest. “Because, uh, the sauce splatters sometimes. I wouldn’t want you to ruin your nice shirt.”

“And why aren’t you doing the same? Taking off that beautiful dress?”

Her breath hitched. He was flirting, in a dangerous way. “Because,” she said, digging into her bag and grabbing her protection. “I brought an apron.”

She snapped her wrist and the apron unfolded. It was an over-the-head, tie-at-the-waist apron with tiny flowers that didn’t clash with her coral dress. She put it on and tied the straps behind her back. “There. Why don’t you change into a T-shirt or something?”

He nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time Adam returned, she had all the ingredients in place. He wore a dark T-shirt now, with white lettering that spelled out Catalina Island. “Better?”

The muscles in his arms nearly popped out of the shirt. “Uh-huh.”

“What now?” he asked.

“Would you mind cutting up the onions, celery and garlic?”

“Sure.”

He grabbed a knife from a drawer and began with the onions. While he was chopping away, she slivered pieces of pork and pancetta. “I’ll need a frying pan,” she said. Her gaze flew to the dozens of drawers and cabinets lining the walls. She’d gotten lucky; the chopping blocks and knives were on the countertop.

“Here, let me.” Adam reached for a wide cabinet in front of her and grazed the tops of her thighs with his forearm as he opened the lower door. She froze for a second as a hot flurry swept through her lower parts. It was an accidental touch, but oh how her body had reacted. His fingertips simply touched the drawer loaded with shiny pots and pans and it slid open automatically. “There you go.”

She stood, astonished. “I’ve never seen anything like that. You have a bat cave kitchen, too.”

“It’s automated, that’s all. No pulling or yanking required.”

“I think I’m in heaven.” How wistful she sounded, her voice breathy.

Adam stood close, gazing at her in that way he had, as if trying to figure her out. His eyes were pure silver gray and a smidgen of blue surrounded the rims. They reminded her of a calm sea after a storm. “I think I am, too.”

She blinked. His words fell from his lips sincerely, not so much heady flirtation but as if he’d been surprised, pleasantly. Her focus was sidetracked by compelling eyes, ego-lifting words and a hard swimmer’s body. Stop it, Mia. Concentrate. Think about Rose. And why you are here.

She turned from him and both resumed their work. After a minute, she tossed the veggies into the fry pan, adding olive oil to the mix. The pan sizzled. “So, did you help your mother cook when you were a boy?” she asked.

Grandma Tess always said you could judge a man by the way he treated his mother.

“Nah, my mom would toss us boys out of the kitchen. Only Lily was— Never mind.”

She turned away from the clarifying onions and steaming veggies to glance at his profile. A tic worked at his jaw, his face pinched. “Lily?”

“My sister. She’s gone now. But to answer your question, no, I didn’t help with meals much.”

He’d had a sister, and now she was gone? Oh, she could relate to that. Her poor sweet Anna was also gone. He didn’t want to talk about his sister. No great surprise. She’d already learned that Adam didn’t like to talk about himself. “Do you have brothers?”

“One.”

He didn’t say more. It was like the proverbial pulling teeth to get answers from him.

She added the pork to the mix and stirred. “Did you grow up around here?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“No, did you?”

“I grew up not far from here. In the OC.” She didn’t like thinking about those times and how her family had been run out of town, thanks to her father. She, her mama and sister had had to leave their friends, their home and the only life they’d ever known because of James Burkel. Mia had cried for days. It wasn’t fair, she kept screaming at her mother. But it hadn’t been her mother’s fault. Her mother had been a victim, too, and the scandal of her father’s creation had besmirched the family name. The worst of it was that an innocent young girl had lost her life. “Here, stir this for me,” she said to Adam, “if you wouldn’t mind. We’re caramelizing the meat and veggies now and don’t want them to burn. I’ll get the sauce.”

“Sure.” He grabbed the wooden spoon from her hands and stood like stone, his face tightly wound as he concentrated on stirring. She was sorry she’d made him uncomfortable with her questions. But they had to be asked.

“Okay, in goes the sauce. Stand back a little.”

He turned her way. “What’s that?”

She gripped a tube of tomato paste in her hand and squeezed. Red paste swirled out. “Tuscan toothpaste.”

He laughed, surprised. “What?”

“That’s what we call it. It’s concentrated sauce. Very flavorful. Take a taste.”

She sunk her spoon into the sauce and then brought it to his mouth. His lips parted, his head bent and his eyes stayed on hers as she gave him a taste. “Might be a little hot.”

He swallowed, nodding his head. “It’s so good.”

“I know. Yummy.”

His eyes twinkled. There was a moment of mischief, of teasing, and his smile quickened her heart. “Yummy,” he repeated.

The staunch set of his jaw relaxed and she stared at his carefree expression. She liked the unguarded Adam best.

After tossing in the herbs and the rest of the ingredients, she set the pan to simmer and they left the kitchen for the open-air veranda. “I don’t usually come out here,” Adam said, pulling out a chair for her. “But I thought you might like it.”

The sun was dipping, casting a shimmering glow on the water. Hues of grape and sherbet tangled through the sky. It was glorious. There was nothing better than a beachside view of the horizon at this time of day. “Why not, Adam? If I lived here, I’d spend every night watching the sunset.”

“It’s...” His face pinched tight again, and she couldn’t figure out if it was pain or regret that kept him from saying more. Maybe it was both? “Never mind.”

Lonely. Was that what he was going to say? Was this intelligent, wealthy, physically perfect specimen of man actually lonely?

“Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Cabernet goes well with Italian.”

“It does.”

He poured her a glass, and she waited for him before taking her first sip.

“Mmm. This is delicious.”

The veranda spread out over the sand in a decking made entirely of white stone. A circular area designated the fire pit and off to the side, a large in-ground spa swirled with invigorating waters. She’d been here before, sat close to this very spot, but she’d been too immersed in her mission to really take note of the glorious surroundings. Sheer draperies billowed behind them.

“I’m glad you like it.”

What was not to like? If only she could forget who Adam Chase really was.

They sipped wine and enjoyed the calm of the evening settling in. A few scattered beachgoers would appear, walking the sands in the distance, but other than that, they were completely alone.

“Why did you leave Orange County? For college?” he asked.

“No, it was before that.” The wine was fruity and smooth and loosened her tongue, but she couldn’t tell Adam the reason her mother had picked up and left their family home. She’d been careful not to share the closest things about herself to Adam, in case Anna had divulged some of their history to him. While Anna had kept the last name Burkel, Mia had legally changed her name to her mother’s maiden name, D’Angelo, as an adult. Mia was dark haired with green eyes, while her sister had been lighter in complexion and bottle blonde. She wondered if Adam would even remember much about Anna. It had been a one-night fling, and a big mistake, according to Anna. “After my mother and father got divorced, we came to live with my grandmother.”

It was close to the truth.

“I see. Where did you go to school?”

“I graduated from Santa Monica High and put myself through community college. I bet you have multiple degrees.”

“A few,” he admitted and then sipped his drink. His gaze turned to the sea.

“You’re very talented. I’m curious. Why did you decide to become an architect?”

He shrugged, deep in thought. Oh no, not another evasive answer coming on. Was he trying to figure out a way out of her question? “I guess I wanted to build something tangible, something that wouldn’t blow over in the wind.”

“Like the three little pigs. You’re the smart pig, building the house made of bricks.”

His lips twitched again and he lifted his glass to his mouth. “You do have a way of putting things. I’ve never been compared to a pig before.” He sipped his drink.

“A smart pig, don’t forget that. You build structures that are sturdy as well as beautiful.”

He nodded. “Foundation comes first. Then I layer in the beauty.”

She smiled. “I like that.”

He reached for her hand. “And I like you, Mia.” The hand covering hers was strong and gentle.

His eyes were warm, darkening to slate gray and as liquid as the sensations sprinting through her body right now. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This intense, hard-to-ignore feeling she got in the pit of her belly. She couldn’t be attracted to him. It was impossible and would ruin everything.

She slipped her hand from his and rose from her seat. “I think I’d better check on the meal.”

His chair scraped back as he stood. Always the gentleman. “Of course.”

She scurried off, mentally kicking herself. An image of Adam’s disappointed face followed her into the kitchen.

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