The Billionaire's Daddy Test

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.”