Книга - The Billionaire’s Daddy Test

The Billionaire's Daddy Test
Charlene Sands






“Invite me in, Mia.”

And then his lips were on hers again, taking her in another mind-numbing kiss. Her soul was seared, branded by a man she hardly knew. Yet it felt right. So very right. How could she be so attracted to the same man her sister had slept with? Conceived a baby with? This wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t.

Her little plan was backfiring.

Because as much as the battle raged inside her head with all those thoughts, she couldn’t stop kissing Adam. She couldn’t stop wanting him. She hadn’t yet said yes or no and his kisses kept coming, delving and probing her mouth, his lips teasing and tempting hers. A strangled sound rose from her throat. “Adam.”

She was breathless, out of oxygen and falling fast.

He was an amazing kisser.

He was probably an amazing lover.

How long had it been since she’d been flipped inside out like this?

Maybe never.

She slipped a hand into her beaded purse, grabbed for her key and pressed it into his hand. “You’re invited in,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper.

* * *

The Billionaire’s Daddy Test is part of Mills & Boon


Desire


s No.1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men … wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.


The Billionaire’s Daddy Test

Charlene Sands




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


CHARLENE SANDS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty-five romance novels, writing sensual contemporary romances and stories of the Old West. Her books have been honored with a National Readers’ Choice Award, a CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award, and she’s a double recipient of the Booksellers’ Best Award. She belongs to the Orange County chapter and the Los Angeles chapter of RWA.

Charlene writes “hunky heroes with heart.” She knows a little something about true romance—she married her high school sweetheart! When not writing, Charlene enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favorite authors and spending time with her family. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Charlene loves to hear from her readers! You can write her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA, or sign up for her newsletter for fun blogs and ongoing contests at www.charlenesands.com (http://www.charlenesands.com).


To the two new babies in my life! You are welcomed and loved so much. With four “princesses” now, you and your sisters have made my “baby” research so much fun! I am truly blessed.


Table of Contents

Cover (#u9a90b168-ee26-5e50-ba04-653aa9321fdd)

Introduction (#uc18d569b-5044-50cb-b31c-8806dbca13f0)

Title Page (#ub9c125d3-52ea-57fd-9d58-6f9c13d9984c)

About the Author (#ue873dd9e-e72f-5e49-835a-e37942b82220)

Dedication (#uf2823775-9470-5f6c-92bc-0af0c4b1aebf)

One (#ud4c8a26a-331f-58fc-9fe6-f4b5ef147f14)

Two (#u7a0827b2-b085-5419-b864-8f1aed9499d6)

Three (#u4c6630ac-9ef0-5712-bd78-6fb722a4814f)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_1725ed26-89bd-5014-973d-28b27010be22)

Adam Chase had a right to know his baby daughter.

Mia couldn’t deny that, but her heart still bled as if a dozen knives were piercing her. Darn her conscience for leading her to Moonlight Beach this morning. Her toes sifted through sand as she walked along the shoreline, flip-flops in hand. It was cooler than she’d expected; the fog flowing in from the sea coated the bright beach with a layer of gloom. Was it an omen? Had she made the wrong choice in coming here today? The image of Rose’s innocent little face popped into her mind. Sweet Cheeks, she called her, because she had the rosiest cheeks of any baby Mia had ever seen. Her lips were perfectly pink, and when she’d smiled her first little baby smile, Mia had melted.

Rose was all Mia had left of her sister, Anna.

Mia shifted her gaze to the ocean. Just as she’d hoped, she spotted a male figure swimming way beyond the breaking waves hitting the shore. He was doing laps as if there were roped-off columns keeping him on point. If the scant research she’d found was anything to go by, it was surely him. Adam Chase, world-class architect, lived at the beach, was a recluse by nature and an avid swimmer. It only made sense he’d do his daily laps early, before the beach was populated.

A breeze lifted her hair, and goose bumps erupted on her arms. She shivered, partly from the cold, but also because what she came here to do was monumental. She’d have to be made of stone not to be frightened right now.

She didn’t know what she’d say to him. She’d rehearsed a thousand and one lines, but never once had she practiced the truth.

With another glance at the water, she spotted him swimming in. Her throat tightened. It was time for the show, whatever that was. Mia was good at thinking on her feet. She calculated her steps carefully, so she’d intersect with him on the sand. Her hair lifted in the breeze, and another shiver racked her body. He stopped swimming and rose up from the shallow water, his shoulders broad as a Viking’s. Her heart thumped a little faster. He came forward in long smooth strides. She scanned his iron chest, rippled with muscle—all that grace and power. The few pictures she’d found in her research hadn’t done him justice. He was out-and-out beautiful in a godly way and so very tall.

He shook his head, and the sun-streaked tendrils of his hair rained droplets down along his shoulders.

“Ow!” Something pricked her foot from underneath. Pain slashed the soft pad and a sharp sting burned. She grabbed her foot and plunked down in the sand. Blood spurted out instantly. Gently, she brushed the sticky sand away and gasped when she saw the damage. Her foot was cut, slashed by a broken beer bottle she spied sticking out of the earth like a mini-skyscraper. If she hadn’t been gawking...

“Are you hurt?” The deep voice reverberated in her ears, and she lifted her eyes to Adam Chase’s concerned face.

“Oh, uh.” She nodded. “Yes. I’m cut.”

“Damn kids,” he said, glancing at the broken bottle. He took her hand and placed it on the bridge of her foot. “Put pressure here and hang on a sec. I’ll be right back.”

“Th-thanks.”

She applied pressure, squeezing her foot tight. It began to feel a little better, and the stinging dissipated. She glimpsed Adam as he jogged away. Her rescuer was just as appealing from the backside. Tanned legs, perfect butt and a strong back. She sighed. It was hardly the way she’d hoped to meet the very private Adam Chase, but it would have to do.

He returned a few seconds later holding a navy-blue-and-white beach towel. He knelt by her side. “Okay, I’m going to wrap it. That should stop the bleeding.”

A huge wave crashed onto the shore, and water washed over her thighs. Adam noticed, his gaze darting through amazingly long lashes and roving over her legs. A warm rush of heat entered her belly. She wore white cotton shorts and a turquoise tank top. She’d wanted to appear like any other beachgoer taking a leisurely morning stroll along the water’s edge, when in fact she’d deliberated over what to wear this morning for thirty minutes.

Now Adam Chase was touching her cautiously. His head down and a few strands of hair falling on his forehead, he performed the task as if it were an everyday occurrence. She had to admire him. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Three years lifeguarding will do that to you.” He glanced up and smiled, flashing a beautiful set of white teeth.

That smile buoyed her spirit a little.

“I’m Adam,” he said.

“Mia.”

“Nice to meet you, Mia.”

“Uh, same here.”

He finished his work, and her foot was tied tightly but with an excess of material hanging down. She’d never be able to walk away with any dignity. The makeshift tourniquet was ugly and cumbersome, but it seemed to do the trick. The bleeding was contained.

“Do you live close by?” he asked.

“Not really. I thought I’d go for a stroll along the beach this morning.”

“Do you have any beach gear?”

She nodded. “It’s about a mile up the beach.” She pointed north. “That way.”

Adam sat up on his knees and peered down at her, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really should have that cleaned and bandaged right away. It’s a sizable gash.”

She shivered. “Okay.”

The water crept up to their legs again.

Adam frowned and glanced at her encumbered foot.

Pushing off from the sand, she tried to rise. “Oh!” Putting her weight on her foot burned like crazy. She bit her lip to keep from crying out any more and lowered herself back down onto the sand.

Adams’s eyes softened. “Listen, I know we’ve just met, but I live right over there.” He gestured to the biggest modern mansion on the beach. “I promise you, I’m not a serial killer or anything, but I have antiseptic and bandages in my house, and I can have you patched up pretty quickly.”

Mia glanced around. No one else was on the beach. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? A chance to get to know Adam Chase? She knew darn well he wasn’t a serial killer. All she knew was that he liked his privacy, he didn’t go out much and—most important of all—he was Rose’s father.

She could write volumes about what she didn’t know about Adam Chase. And that’s exactly why she’d come here—to find out what kind of man he truly was.

Rose’s future was riding on it.

“I guess that would be okay.”

Come to think of it, no one knew where she was today. Rose was with her great-grandmother. If Adam did have evil on his mind, it would be a long time before anyone came looking...

The mountain of a man scooped her up, and she gasped. Pay attention, Mia. Her pulse sped as he nestled her into his chest. His arms secure about her body, he began to carry her away from the water’s edge. On instinct, she roped her arms around his neck. Water drops remained on his shoulders, cooling his skin where her hands entwined.

“Comfy?” A wry smile pulled at his lips.

Speechless, she nodded and gazed into his eyes. There were steely flecks layered over gray irises, soulful shadows and as mysterious as a deep water well. Oddly, she didn’t feel uncomfy in his arms, even though they were complete strangers.

“Good. Couldn’t think of a faster way to get you to the house.”

“Thank you?” she squeaked.

He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes straight ahead. She relaxed a little until her foot throbbed. Little jabs of pain wound all around the bottom of her foot. She stifled a shriek when a few bright red drops of blood seeped from the towel onto the sand.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Yes, this is...awful.” She barely got the word out. Adam Chase or not, she wanted to crawl into a hole. What a way to meet a man. Any minute now, she’d probably bleed all over his gorgeous house.

“Awful?” He seemed to take exception with that. She wasn’t complaining about his sudden caveman move, how he’d plucked her into his arms so easily. No, that part had been, well, amazing. But she felt like a helpless wounded animal. She couldn’t even stand on her own two feet.

“Embarrassing,” she muttered.

“No need to be embarrassed.”

His stride was long and smooth as he moved over the sand toward his mansion. Up close, the detail of his craft showed in the trim of wide expansive windows, the texture of the stucco, the unique decorative double glass doors and the liberating feel of an outdoor living space facing the ocean—a billionaire’s version of a veranda. Fireplaces, sitting areas with circular couches, overhead beams and stone floors all made up the outskirts of his house. The veranda was twice the size of her little Santa Monica apartment, and that was only a fraction of what she could see. Inside must be magnificent.

“Here we are,” he said, steps away from the dream house.

“Uh, do you think we could stay out here?” She pointed to the enormous outside patio.

He blinked, those dark gray eyes twinkling. “Sure. If you feel safer outside.”

“Oh no, it’s not that.”

His perfectly formed eyebrows arched upward. “No?”

“I don’t want to ruin your carpeting or anything.” Lord knew, she made a decent living at First Clips, but if she destroyed something in the mansion, it could take years to pay off a replacement.

“My carpet?” His smile could melt Mount Shasta. “There’s not a shred of carpet in the house. I promise to keep you away from any rugs lying about.”

“Oh, uh. Fine then.”

He moved through the front doors easily and entered a massive foyer, where inlaid marble and intricate stone patterns led to a winding staircase. She gulped at the tasteful opulence. She clamped her mouth shut and held back a sigh from her lips. Was it the unexpected nuances she found in his stunning home, or was it the man himself who caused such a flurry in the pit of her stomach? His size commanded attention, the breadth of his shoulders, the bronze tone of his skin and, yes, the fact that he was shirtless and wet, his moisture clinging to her own clothes, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs.

A thrill ran through her, overriding her embarrassment.

He began to climb the stairs.

“Where are we going?” Up to his lair?

“The first aid supplies are in my bathroom. Mary is out shopping, or I’d have her go get them for us.”

“Mary? Your girlfriend?”

His gaze slipped over to her. “My housekeeper.”

“Oh.” Of course.

“Have you lived here long?” She needed lessons in small talk.

“Long enough.”

“The house is beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?”

“I had some help.”

Evasive but not rude. “I’m sorry about this. You probably have better things to do than play nursemaid to me.”

“Like I said, I have mad lifeguarding skills.”

Yes. Yes, he did.

* * *

Adam set the woman down on the bathroom counter. Long black lashes lifted and almond-shaped eyes, green as a spring meadow, followed his every movement. From what he could tell, she didn’t have an ounce of makeup on her face. She didn’t need it. Her beauty seemed natural, her face delicately sculpted, glowing in warm tones. Her mouth was shaped like a heart in the most subtle way, and her skin was soft as butter. His palms still tingled from holding the underside of her thighs as he’d lifted her off the hot sand. “Here we go. Just let me get a shirt and my glasses.”

He grabbed the first shirt he found in his bedroom drawer and then came up with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Next he selected the medical supplies he’d need out of a closet in his bathroom. He found what he needed easily: gauze, peroxide, antibacterial cream. When it came to keeping things organized, he was meticulous. It was the way he rolled, and he’d taken more than a fair share of heat about it from everyone who knew him. That aside, he’d bet he’d shock his college pals if they saw the worn, tattered and faded to ghost-blue UCLA Bruin T-shirt he’d just thrown on. Adam almost cracked a smile. It was so unlike him; yet once a Bruin, always a Bruin. He wouldn’t part with his shirt. He set his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Here goes. Ready?”

She nodded. “Go ahead.”

Gently, he unwound the towel from her foot. “I want to take a better look at that gash.”

“You’re really nice for doing this,” she said softly.

“Hmm.”

“What kind of work do you do?” she asked.

He didn’t take his eyes off her foot. It was small and delicate, and he was careful with her, surveying the damage and elevating the heel. “Uh, I’m self-employed.”

“It’s just that, well, this house is magnificent.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it just you and Mary living here?”

“Sometimes. Mia, do you think you could swivel the rest of your body up on the counter, near the sink, so I can see the foot a little better?”

“I think so.” Holding the heel of her foot, he helped guide her legs onto the counter. She had to scoot back and pivot a bit until she filled half the length of the long cocoa marble commode. She couldn’t be more than five foot five. Her foot hovered over the sink.

A tank top and white shorts showed off her sun-kissed body. Her legs were long and lean like a dancer’s. Seeing her sprawled out before him, the entire Mia package was first-class gorgeous. He caught himself staring at her reflection. Focus, Adam. Be a Good Samaritan.

“So you went to UCLA?” she asked.

“Yeah. Undergrad.” He stroked his chin and hesitated, staring at her foot. It had been years since his lifeguarding days. He’d never had qualms about giving first aid before. He’d done it a hundred times, including giving CPR to a man in his sixties. That hadn’t been fun, but the man had survived and, years later, gratefully commissioned Adam to design a resort home on the French Riviera. It had been one of his first big architectural projects. But this was different somehow, with Mia, the beauty who had landed at his feet on the beach.

“Adam?”

He looked at her. A fleeting thought entered his head. For a woman in distress, she sure asked a lot of questions. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried an unorthodox way to interview him. But surely not Mia. Her foot was slashed pretty badly. Some women liked to talk when they were nervous. Did he make her nervous?

“Is it okay if I wash your foot?”

Her lovely olive complexion colored, and a flash of hesitation entered her eyes. “Do you have a foot fetish or anything?”

He grinned. Maybe he did make her nervous. “Nope. No fetishes at all.”

She made a little noise when she inhaled. “Good to know. Okay.”

He filled the sink with warm water. “Let me know if it hurts.”

She nodded, squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her legs.

“Try to relax, Mia.”

Her expression softened, and she opened her eyes. He rotated her slim ankle over the sink with one hand and splashed warm water onto her foot. Using a dollop of antibacterial liquid soap, he cleansed the area thoroughly with a soft washcloth. Heat rose up his neck. It was about as intimate as he’d been with a woman in months, and Mia, with her cotton-candy-pink toenails, endless legs and beautiful face was 100 percent woman. “The good news is, the bleeding has stopped.”

“Wonderful. Now I can stop worrying about destroying your furniture.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” He furrowed his brow.

“After the foot fetish thing, yes.”

He shook his head and fought the smile trying to break his concentration. Not too many people made him smile, and Mia had already done that several times. “You can stop worrying. I don’t think you’ll need stitches either. Luckily, the gash isn’t as deep as it looked. It’s long, though, and it might be painful for you to walk on for a day or two. You can have a doctor take a look, just to make sure.”

She said nothing.

He dabbed the cut with peroxide, and bubbles clustered up. Next he lathered her wound with antibiotic cream.

“How’re you doing?” He lifted his head, and her face was there, so close, obviously watching his ministrations. Their eyes met, and he swallowed hard. He could swim a mile in her pretty green eyes.

She took a second to answer. “I’m, uh, doing well.”

It was quiet in the house, just the two of them, Adam’s hand clamping her ankle gently. “That’s...good. I’ll be done in a second.” He cleared his throat and picked up the bandages. “I’m going to wrap this kind of tight.”

He caught Mia glancing at his left hand, focusing on his ring finger, as in no white tan lines, and then her lips curled up. “I’m ready.”

Suddenly, he’d never been happier that he was romantically unattached than right at that moment.

* * *

After Adam had patched her up, Mia’s stomach had shamefully grumbled as he’d helped her down from the bathroom counter. She’d probably turned ten shades of red when the unladylike sound echoed against the walls. Luckily, he’d only smiled and had graciously invited her to breakfast. She had to keep her foot elevated for a little while, he’d said, and Mia had been more than willing to continue to spend time with him.

To get the scoop on him. It would take some doing; he was tight-lipped. Making conversation was not in his wheelhouse. But so many other things were. Like the way he’d immediately come to her aid on the beach, how thoughtful he’d been afterward, carrying her into his house, and how deadly handsome he looked behind those wire-rimmed glasses. Oh, Mama!

She sat in a comfortable chaise chair in the open-air terrace off a kitchen a chef would dream about. Part of the terrace was shaded by an overhead balcony. Adam was seated to her right at the table. Her foot was propped on another chair. Both faced the Pacific.

The morning gloom was beginning to lift, the sun breaking through and the sound of waves hitting the shore penetrating her ears. White curtains billowed behind her as she sipped coffee from a gold-rimmed china cup. Adam knew how to live. It was all so decadent, except that Adam, for all his good looks and obvious wealth, seemed down-to-earth even if he didn’t talk about himself much. And she had to admit, her Viking warrior looked more like a beach bum in khaki shorts and a beaten-down Bruins T-shirt. But she still hadn’t found out much about him.

“So you work as a hairdresser?” he said.

“Actually, I own the shop but I don’t cut hair. I have two employees who do.” She gauged his reaction and didn’t elaborate that First Clips, her shop, catered to children. The hairdressers wore costumes and the little girls sat on princess thrones, while the boys sat in rocket ships to have their hair cut. Afterward, the newly groomed kids were rewarded with tiaras or rocket goggles. Mia was proud of their business. Anna had developed the idea and had been the main hairstylist while Mia ran the financial end of things. She had to be careful about what she revealed about First Clips. If Anna had confided in him about their business, he might connect the dots and realize Mia wasn’t exactly an innocent bystander out for a beach stroll this morning.

Mary, his sixtysomething housekeeper, approached the table and served platters of poached eggs, maple bacon, fresh biscuits and an assortment of pastries.

“Thank you,” she said. “The coffee is delicious.” Adam had brought it out from the kitchen earlier.

“Mary, this is Mia,” he said. “She had an accident on the beach this morning.”

“Oh, dear.” Mary’s kind pale blue eyes darted to her bandaged foot. “Are you all right?”

“I think I will be, thanks to Adam. I stepped on a broken bottle.”

Mary shook her head. “Those stupid kids...always hanging around after dark.” Her hand went to her mouth immediately. “Sorry. It’s just that they’re in high school and shouldn’t be drinking beer and doing who knows what else on the beach. Adam has talked about having them arrested.”

“Maybe I should,” he muttered, and she got the idea he wasn’t fully committed to the idea. “Or maybe I’ll teach them a lesson.”

“How?” Mary asked.

“I’ve got a few things bouncing around in my head.”

“Well, I wish you would,” she said, and Mia got the impression Mary had some clout in Adam’s household. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mia.”

“Nice meeting you, too.”

“Thanks, Mary. The food looks delicious,” he said. Mary retreated to the kitchen, and Adam pointed to the dishes of food. “Dig in. I know you’re hungry.” His lips twitched. When he smiled, something pinged inside her.

She fixed herself a plate of eggs and buttered a biscuit, leaving the bacon and pastries aside, while Adam filled his plate with a little of everything. “So you said you’re self-employed. What kind of work do you do?”

He slathered butter onto his biscuit. “I design things,” he said, then filled his mouth and chewed.

“What kind of things?” she pressed. The man really didn’t like talking about himself.

He shrugged. “Homes, resorts, villas.”

She bit into her eggs and leaned back, contemplating. “I bet you do a lot of traveling.”

“Not really.”

“So you’re a homebody?”

He shrugged again. “It’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“No, I’m sort of a homebody myself, actually.” Now that she was raising Rose, she didn’t have time for anything other than work and baby. It was fine by her. Her heart ached every time she thought about giving Rose up. She didn’t know if she could do it. Meeting Adam was the first step, and she almost didn’t want to take any more. Why couldn’t he have been a loser? Why couldn’t he have been a jerk? And why on earth was she so hopelessly attracted to him?

Had he been married? Did he have a harem of girlfriends? Or any nasty habits, like drugs or gambling or a sex addiction? Mia’s mind whirled with possibilities, but nothing seemed to suit him. But wasn’t that what people said about their neighbors when it was discovered they were violent terrorists or killers? “He seemed like such a nice man, quiet, kept to himself.”

Okay, so her imagination was running wild. She still didn’t know enough about Adam. She’d have to find a way to spend more time with him.

Rose was worth the trouble.

Rose was worth...everything.

* * *

“You’re not going to be able to walk back,” Adam said.

She glanced at her foot still elevated on the chair. Breakfast was over, and her heart started thumping against her chest the way it did just before panic set in. She needed more time. She hadn’t found out anything personal about Adam yet, other than he was filthy rich and truly had mad first aid skills. Her foot was feeling much better, wrapped tightly, but she hadn’t tried to get up yet. Adam had carried her to her seat on the shaded veranda.

She knew her flip-flops would flop. She couldn’t walk in them in the sand, not with the bandage on her foot.

“I don’t have a choice.”

Adam cocked his head to the side, and his lips twisted. “I have a car, you know.”

She began shaking her head. “I can’t impose on your day any more. I’ll get back on my own.”

She pulled her legs down and scooted her chair back as she rose. “You’ve already done en—” Searing jabs pricked at the ball of her foot. She clenched her teeth and keeled to the right, taking pressure off the wound. She grabbed for the table, and Adam was beside her instantly, his big hands bracing her shoulders.

“Whoa. See, I didn’t think you could walk.”

“I, uh.” Her shoulders fell. “Maybe you’re right.”

And for the third time today, she was lifted up in Adam’s strong arms. He’d excused himself while Mary was cooking breakfast and taken a quick shower and now his scent wafted to her nose—a strong, clean, entirely too sexy smell that floated all around her.

“This is getting to be a habit,” she said softly.

He made a quick adjustment, tucking her gently in again, and gave her a glance. “It’s necessary.”

“And you always do what’s necessary?”

“I try to.”

He began walking, then stopped and bent his body so she could grab her turquoise flip-flops off the kitchen counter. “Got them?”

“I got them.”

“Hang on.”

She was. Clinging to him and enjoying the ride.


Two (#ulink_b2e8b417-49bf-533d-a22c-f60e26c20c1f)

Adam carried Mia down a long corridor heading to the garage. After traveling about twenty steps, the hallway opened to a giant circular room and a streamlined convertible Rolls-Royce popped into her line of vision. The car, a work of art in itself, was parked showroom-style in the center of the round room. She’d never seen such luxury before and was suddenly stunningly aware of the vast differences between Adam Chase and Mia D’Angelo.

She took her eyes off the car and scanned the room. A gallery of framed artwork hung on the surrounding walls and her gaze stopped on a brilliant mosaic mural that encompassed about one-third of the gallery. Her mouth hung open in awe. She pressed her lips together tightly and hoped her gawking wasn’t noticed.

“Adam, you have your own bat cave?”

His lips twitched. He surveyed the room thoughtfully. “No one’s ever described it quite like that before,” he said.

“How many people have seen this?”

“Not many.”

“Ah, so it is your bat cave. You keep it a secret.”

“I had this idea when I was designing the house and it wouldn’t leave me alone. I had to see it through.”

Score one for his perseverance.

“I don’t know much about great works of art, but this gallery is amazing. Are you an art junkie?” she asked.

“More like I appreciate beauty. In all forms.” His eyes touched over her face, admiring, measuring and thoughtful. Heat prickled at the back of her neck. If he was paying her a compliment, she wouldn’t acknowledge it verbally. She couldn’t help it if having a gorgeous man hold her in her arms and whisper sweet words in her ear made her bead up with sweat. But she wasn’t here to flirt, fawn or fantasize. She needed to finesse answers out of him. Period.

He stepped onto the platform that housed the car and opened the passenger door of the Rolls-Royce. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.”

“In this? How? I mean, the car’s a part of your gallery. And in case you haven’t noticed, there’s no garage door anywhere.” She double-checked her surroundings. No, she wasn’t mistaken. But just in case the bat cave had secret walls, she asked, “Is there?”

“No, no garage door, but an elevator.”

Again her gaze circled the room. “Where?”

“We’re standing on it. Now let me get you into the car.”

Buttery leather seats cushioned her bottom as he lowered her into the Rolls, his beautiful Nordic face inches from her. The scent of him surrounded her in a halo of arousing aroma. Her breath hitched, she hoped silently. Mia, stop drooling.

“Can you manage the seat belt?” he asked.

Her foot was all bandaged up, not her hands, but still a fleeting thought touched her mind of Adam gently tucking her into the seat belt. “Of course.”

He backed away and came around to the other end of the car and climbed in. “Ready?”

“For?”

“Don’t be alarmed. We’re going to start moving down.”

He pressed a few buttons, and noises that sounded like a plane’s landing gear opening up, filled the room. Mia had a faint notion that they were going to take off somehow. But then the platform began a slow and easy descent as the main floor of Adam’s house began to disappear. Grandma Tess would call it an “E” ticket ride.

She looked up and the ceiling was closing again, kind of like the Superdome. Adam’s gallery had a replacement floor. If he designed this, he was certainly an architectural and mechanical genius.

Score one more for Adam Chase.

Smooth as glass, they landed in a garage on the street level. More noises erupted, she imagined to secure the car elevator onto the ground floor. Inside the spacious garage, three other cars were parked. “Were these cars out of gas?” she asked.

A chuckle rumbled from his throat. “I thought this would be fastest and easier for you. And to be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve taken the Rolls out.”

She liked honesty, but surely he wasn’t trying to impress her? He’d already done that the second he’d strode out of the ocean and come to her aid.

A Jag, an all-terrain Jeep and a little sports car were outdone by the Rolls, yet she wouldn’t turn any one of them down if offered. “So, are you a car fanatic?”

He revved the engine and pressed the remote control. The garage door opened, and sunshine poured in. “So many questions, Mia. Just sit back, stretch out your leg and enjoy the ride.”

What choice did she have? Adam clearly didn’t like talking about himself. Anna’s dying words rang in her head and seized her heart. Clutching her sister’s hand, her plea had been weak but so determined. “Adam Chase, the baby’s real father. Architect. One night...that’s all I know. Find him.”

Anna had been more adventurous than Mia, but now she understood why she’d known little about the man who’d fathered her child. Anna had probably done most of the talking. It had been during the lowest part of her sister’s life, when she thought she’d lost Edward forever. Maybe neither one of them had done much talking.

She glanced at Adam’s profile as he put the car in gear, his wrist resting on the steering wheel. Chiseled cheekbones, thoughtful gray eyes, strong jaw. His hair, kissed by the sun, was cropped short and straight. No rings on his fingers. Again, she wondered if he had a girlfriend or three. Everything about him, his house, his cars, his good looks, screamed babe magnet, yet oddly, her gut was telling her something different, something she couldn’t put her finger on. And that’s why she had to find a way to delay her departure. She didn’t have enough to go on. She certainly couldn’t turn her sweet-cheeked baby Rose over to him. Not yet.

He might not even want her.

Perish the thought. Who wouldn’t want that beautiful baby?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” he asked. “You can have someone pick up your car later if you can’t drive comfortably.”

“Oh no. Please. Just drive me to my car. It’s not that far, and I’m sure I can drive.”

Adam took his eyes off the road and turned to her. “Okay, if you’re sure.” He didn’t seem convinced.

“My foot’s feeling better already. I’m sure.”

He nodded and sighed, turning his attention back to the road.

“How far?”

“I’m parked at lifeguard station number three.”

“Got it.”

It was less than a mile, and she kept her focus on the glossy waters of Moonlight Beach as he drove the rest of the way in silence. Too soon, they entered the parking lot. “There’s my car.” She pointed to her white Toyota Camry. He pulled up next to it. The Rolls looked out of place in a parking lot full of soccer-mom vans and family sedans. A mustard-yellow school bus was unloading a gaggle of giggling children.

“Hang on,” he said. “I’ll get your gear. Just show me where it is on the beach.”

Whoops. She’d lied about that. She didn’t have so much as a beach towel on the sand. Blinking, she stalled for time. “Oh, I guess I forgot. I must have put everything in my trunk before I took my walk.”

Adam didn’t seem fazed, and she sighed, relieved. He climbed out of the car, jaunted around the front end of the Rolls and stopped on the passenger side. She opened the car door, and he was there, ready to help her out.

His hands were on her again, lifting her, and a warm jolt catapulted down to her belly. She’d never felt anything quite like it before, this fuzzy don’t-stop-touching-me kind of sensation that rattled her brain and melted her insides.

He set her down, and she put weight on her foot. “I’m okay,” she said, gazing into eyes softened by concern.

“You’re sure?”

“If you can just help me to my car, I’ll be fine.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, and there it was again—warm, gooey sensations swimming through her body. She half hopped, half walked as he carefully guided her to the driver’s side of the car.

“Your keys?” he asked.

She dug her hand into the front pocket of her shorts and came up with her car key. “Right here.”

He stared at her. “Well, then. You’re set.”

“Yes.”

Neither one of them moved. Not a muscle. Not a twitch.

Around them noises of an awakening beach pitched into the air, children’s laughter, babies crying, the roar of the waves hitting the shore, seagulls squawking, and still, it was as if they were alone. The beating of her heart pounded in her skull. Adam wasn’t going to say anything more, although some part of her believed he wanted to.

She rose up on tiptoes, lifted her eyes fully to his and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Adam. You’ve been very sweet.”

His mouth wrenched up. “Welcome.”

“I’d love to repay you for your kindness by cooking you one of my grandmother’s favorite Tuscan dishes, but—”

“But?” His brows arched. He seemed interested, thank goodness.

“My stove is on the blink.” Not exactly a lie. Two burners were out and the oven was temperamental.

He shook his head. “There’s no need to repay me for anything.”

Her hopes plummeted, yet she kept a smile on her face.

“But I love Italian food, so how about cooking that meal at my place when you’re up to it?”

At his place? In that gorgeous state-of-the-art kitchen? Thank goodness for small miracles. “I’d love to. Saturday night around seven?” That would give her three days to heal.

“Sounds good.”

It was a date. Well, not a date.

She was on a mission and she couldn’t forget that.

Even if her mouth still tingled from the taste of his skin on her lips.

* * *

Adam removed his glasses and set them down on the drafting table. He leaned back in his seat and sighed. His tired eyes needed a rest. He closed them and pinched the bridge of his nose as seconds ticked by. How long had he been at it? He turned his wrist and glanced at his watch. Seven hours straight. The villa off the southern coast of Spain he was designing was coming along nicely. But his eyes were crossing, and not even the breezes blowing into his office window were enough to keep him focused. He needed a break.

And it was all because of a beautiful woman named Mia. He’d thought of her often these past two days. It wasn’t often a woman captured his imagination anymore. But somehow this beautiful woman intrigued him. Spending those few hours with her had made him realize how isolated he’d become lately.

He craved privacy. But he hadn’t minded her interrupting his morning, or her nosy questions. Actually, coming to her aid was the highlight of his entire week. He was looking forward to their evening together tomorrow night.

“Adam, you have a phone call,” Mary said, bringing him his cell phone. Few people had his private number, and he deliberately let Mary answer most of the calls when he was working. “It’s your mother.”

He always took his mother’s calls. “Thanks,” he said, and Mary handed him the phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Adam, how’s my firstborn doing today?”

Adam’s teeth clenched. The way she referred to him was a constant reminder that there had once been three of them and that Lily was gone.

“I’m doing okay. Just finished the day’s work.”

“The villa?”

“Yeah. I’m happy with the progress.”

“Sometimes I can’t get over that you design the most fascinating places.”

“I have a whole team, Mom. It’s not just me.”

“It’s your company, Adam. You’ve done remarkable things with your life.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose again. His mother never came right out and told him she was proud of him. Maybe she was, but he’d never heard the words and he probably never would. He couldn’t blame her. He’d failed in doing the one thing that would’ve made her proud of him, the one thing that would’ve cemented her happy life. Instead, he’d caused his family immense grief.

“Have you spoken with your brother yet?”

He knew this was coming. He braced himself.

“Not yet, but I plan to speak with Brandon this week.”

“It’s just that I’m hoping you two reconcile your differences. My age is creeping up on me, you know. And it’s something I’ve been praying for, Adam...for you and Brandon to act like brothers again.”

“I know, Mom.” The only justice was that he knew his mother was giving Brandon the very same plea. She wanted what was left of her family to be whole again. “I’ve put in a few calls to him. I’m just waiting to hear back.”

“I understand he’s in San Francisco, but he’ll be home tonight.” Home was Newport Beach for his brother. He was a pilot and now ran a charter airline company based out of Orange County. He and Brandon never saw eye to eye on anything. They were as different as night and day. Maybe that’s why Jacqueline, his ex-girlfriend, had gotten involved with his brother. She craved excitement. She loved adventure. Adam would never be convinced that she hadn’t left him for Brandon. Brandon was easygoing and free-spirited, while Adam remained guarded, even though he’d loved Jacqueline with all of his heart.

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll work it out with Brandon. He wouldn’t want to miss your birthday party. We both know how important it is to you.”

“I want my boys to be close again.”

Adam couldn’t see that happening. But he’d make sure Brandon would come to celebrate their mother’s seventieth birthday and the two of them would be civil to one another. “I understand.”

It was the best he could do. He couldn’t make promises to his mother about his relationship with Brandon. There was too much pain and injury involved.

“Well, I’d better say goodbye. I’ve got a big day tomorrow. A field trip to the Getty Museum. It’s been a few years since I’ve been there.”

“Okay, Mom. Is Ginny going?”

“Of course. She’s my Sunny Hills partner. We do everything together.”

“And you haven’t gotten on each other’s nerves yet?”

A warmhearted chuckle reached his ears. It was a good sound. One he didn’t hear enough from his mother. “Oh, we have our moments. Ginny can be overbearing at times. But she’s my best friend and next-door neighbor, and we do so love the same things.”

“Okay, Mom. Well, have fun tomorrow.”

“Thanks, dear.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

Adam hung up the phone, picturing his mom at Sunny Hills Resort. It was a community for active seniors, inland and just ten miles away from Moonlight Beach. Thankfully his mother hadn’t balked about leaving Oklahoma and the life she’d always known after his father died. Adam had bought her a home in the gated community, and she seemed to have settled in quite nicely, her middle America manners and charm garnering her many friendships. The activities there kept her busy. He tried to see her at least once or twice a month.

Mary walked into his office. “It’s dinnertime. Are you hungry, Adam?”

“I could eat. Sure.”

“Would you like me to set you up on the veranda? Or inside the kitchen?”

“Kitchen’s fine.”

Mary nodded.

Mary asked him every night, and he always had the same answer for her, but he never wanted her to stop asking. Maybe one night he’d change his mind. Maybe one night he’d want to sit outside and see the sun set, hear distant laughter coming from the shoreline and let faint music reach his ears. Maybe one night he wouldn’t want to eat in solitude, then watch a ball game and read himself to sleep.

“Oh, and Mary?”

She was almost out of the doorway when she turned. “Yes?”

“Take the day off tomorrow. Enjoy a long weekend.”

Sundays and Mondays were her days off. Adam could fare for two days without housekeeping help, unless something important came up. He made sure it didn’t. He had an office in the city where he met with his clients and had meetings with his staff. He often worked on his designs from home. His office was fully equipped with everything he needed.

“Thank you, Adam. Does this have anything to do with that lovely girl you met the other day?”

Mary had been with him since before he’d moved into his house. Some said she had no filter, but Adam liked her. She spoke her mind, and he trusted her, maybe more than some trusted their own relatives. She was younger than his mother but old enough to know the score. “If I told you yes, would you leave it at that?”

A hopeful gleam shined in her blue eyes. “A date?”

Of course she wouldn’t leave it alone. “Not really. She’s coming over to cook for me. As a thank-you for helping her.”

Mary grinned, her face lighting up. “A date. I’ll make sure the kitchen is well stocked.”

“It’s always well stocked, thanks to you, Mary. Don’t worry about it. I imagine she’s bringing over what she needs. So enjoy your Saturday off.”

“And you enjoy your date,” she said. “I’ll go now and set the table for dinner.”

She walked out of the room and Adam smiled. Mia was coming over to make him a meal. For all he knew, she felt obligated to reciprocate a favor. Not that what he’d done had been a favor; anyone with half a heart—that would be him—would’ve helped her out. Who wouldn’t stop for a woman bleeding and injured on the beach?

A beautiful woman, with a knockout body and skin tones that made you want to touch and keep on touching. He had to admit, the thought of her coming over tomorrow got his juices flowing.

And that hadn’t happened in a very long time.

* * *

“Gram, this is so hard,” Mia said, shifting her body to and fro, rocking baby Rose. The baby’s weight drained her strength and stung her arms, but she didn’t want to stop rocking her. She didn’t want to give up one second of her time with Rose. Her sweet face was docile now, so very peaceful. She was a joy, a living, breathing replica of her mama. How could she lose Anna a second time? “I can’t imagine not seeing her every day. I can’t imagine giving her up.”

“She’s ours, too, you know.” Grandma Tess sat in her favorite cornflower-blue sofa chair. As she smiled her encouragement the wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “We won’t really be giving her up,” she said softly. “I’m sure...this Adam, he’ll do the right thing. He’ll allow you contact with the baby.”

“Allow.” A frown dragged at her lips. She’d raised Rose from birth. They’d bonded. Now someone would have the power to allow her to see Rose?

“He may not be the father, after all. Have you thought about that?”

“I have,” she said, her hips swinging gently. “But my gut’s telling me he’s the one. Rose has his eyes. And his hair coloring. She’s not dark like us.”

“Well, then, maybe you should get going. Lay the baby down in the playpen. She’ll probably sleep most of the night. We’ll be fine—don’t you worry.”

“I know. She loves you, Gram.” Tears formed in her eyes. Her heart was so heavy right now. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to see Adam Chase tonight. She wanted to stay right here with Rose and Gram. She caught the moisture dripping from her eyes with a finger and sighed. “I won’t be late. And if you need me for anything, call my cell. I’ll keep it handy.”

She laid the baby down in the playpen that served as the crib in Gram’s house. Wearing a bubblegum-pink sleep sack, Rose looked so cozy, so content. Mia curled a finger around the baby’s hair and, careful not to wake her, whispered, “Good night, Sweet Cheeks.”

She left the baby’s side to lean down to kiss Gram’s cheek. Her skin was always warm and supple and soft like a feather down pillow. “Don’t bother getting up. I’ll lock you in.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Don’t forget the groceries.”

“I won’t,” she said.

As she passed the hallway mirror, she gave herself a glance. She wore a coral sundress with an angled shoulder and a modest hemline. Her injured foot had healed enough for her to wear strappy teal-blue flat sandals that matched her teardrop necklace and earrings. Her hair was down and slight waves touched the center of her back.

“You look beautiful, Mia.”

“Thanks, Gram.” She lifted the bag of foodstuffs she’d need to make the meal, glanced at Rose one more time and then exited her grandmother’s house, making sure to lock the door.

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.


Three (#ulink_de58186d-a320-5900-aca3-bfa0d6b96b73)

“Damn it.” Adam squeezed his eyes shut. He’d almost blown it with Mia. She was skittish, and he couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know him. It had been his MO not to let people in, and he’d done a good job of avoiding her questions tonight. He’d lost the fine art of conversation years ago, if he’d ever had it. If only he wasn’t so darn smitten with her. Smitten? Now that was a corny word. Hell, he was attracted to her, big-time. She was a breath of fresh air in his stale life.

He entered the kitchen holding two wineglasses he’d refilled and found her by the oven, wearing her little blue apron again. His throat tightened at the domestic scene. How long had it been since a woman cooked him a meal? Well, aside from Mary. A long, he couldn’t remember how long, time. “Me again.” He set down her wineglass. “What can I do?”

“How are you at making a salad?”

“I can manage that.”

She stirred the sauce as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a big wooden bowl covered with plastic wrap. He set it in front of her.

“How’s this?”

“Looks beautiful.” She smirked. “You work fast.”

“Thank Mary. She anticipates everything.” He opened a drawer and revealed a loaf of fresh crusty Italian bread. “Yep, even bread.”

Mia smiled. “Thank you, Mary. The sauce is almost ready. I brought homemade tagliatelle. But I can’t take credit for making it. There’s no way I could duplicate my gram’s recipe. She’s the expert. She made it.”

Several sheets of thin pasta were laid out on a chopping block. Mia rolled a sheet all the way up until it was one rather long log and then she cut inch wide strips and then narrower strips all the way down the line. “Tagliatelle doesn’t have to be perfect. That’s the beauty in the recipe. Once you’ve made the pasta, cutting it is a breeze.” She unrolled two at different lengths and widths and showed it to him. “See?”

She added a sprinkling of salt to a boiling pot. “Here you go. Want to put these in as I cut?”

“I think you can double as a chef, Mia D’Angelo.” They worked together, her cutting, him adding the pasta to the bubbling water.

“That’s nice of you to say. But judge me in two minutes, when it’s done.”

“If it tastes anything like it smells...” The scent of garlic and herbs and the meaty sauce spiked his appetite. The homey aroma brought good memories of sitting down to a meal with his mom and dad, brother and sister. “It’ll be delicious.”

“I hope so.”

He helped Mia serve up the dish, and they sat down outside again. It was dark now; the moonlight over the ocean illuminated the sky. Mary had placed domed votive candles on the table, and he lit them. He couldn’t remember having a more relaxed evening. Mia didn’t seem to want anything from him. She was the real deal, a woman he wouldn’t have even met, if she hadn’t injured herself practically on his doorstep. She was curious, but she wasn’t overbearing. He liked that she made him laugh.

Steam billowed from the pasta on his plate and he hunkered down and forked it into his mouth before his stomach started grumbling. The Bolognese sauce was the best he’d ever tasted, and the pasta was so tender, it slid down his throat. The dish was sweet and savory at the same time, just the right amount of...everything. “Wow,” he said. “It’s pretty damn good.”

She grinned. “Good? Your plate is almost empty.”

“All right. It’s fantastic. I’m going in for second helpings. If that’s okay with you?”

“If you didn’t, I’d be insulted.” She ladled another portion of pasta onto his plate and grated parmesan cheese in a snowy mound over it. “There—that should keep you happy for a while.”

“I’ll have to double my swim time tomorrow.”

“How long are you out there usually?”

“I go about three miles.”

“Every day?”

He nodded. “Every day that I’m home.”

She swirled pasta around her fork. “Do you travel much?”

“Only when I have to. I’m doing a big job right now on the coast of Spain. It might require some traveling soon.”

“I’d love to travel more. I rarely get out of California. Well, there was this one trip to Cabo San Lucas when I graduated high school. And my father’s family was from West Virginia. I spent a few weeks there one summer. But oh, your life sounds so exciting.”

It wasn’t. He didn’t enjoy traveling. He liked the work, though, and it was necessary to travel at times. Adam pictured Mia on the southern coast of Spain with him, keeping him company, lounging in a villa and waiting for him to return home from work. He saw it all so clearly in his mind that he missed her last comment. He blinked when he realized he’d been rude. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

“Oh, just that I’ve always wanted to see Italy. It’s a dream of mine, to see where my mother’s family was from. That’s all.”

He nodded. Many people would love to trace their roots, but if Adam never entered the state of Oklahoma again, he wouldn’t miss it. Not in the least. After Lily died, their family had never been the same. Some nights he woke up in a sweat, dreaming about the natural disaster that had claimed his sister’s life. “I can understand that. Italy is a beautiful country.”

“Have you been there?”

“Once, yes.”

She took a long sip of wine. His gaze was riveted to her delicate throat and the way she took soft swallows. He didn’t want the evening to end. If he had his choice, she’d be staying the night, but that would have to wait. Mia couldn’t be rushed, and he wasn’t one to push a woman into something she wasn’t ready for. “After dessert, would you like to take a walk on the beach? I promise I’ll bring a flashlight, and we’ll be careful.”

Mia turned her wrist and glanced at the sparkly silver bracelet watch on her arm. “I would love to, but it’s getting late. Maybe just dessert this time. But I’ll take a rain check on that walk.”

Late? It was a little after ten. “You got it. Another time then.”

They brought the dishes inside and Adam pulled out a strawberry pie from the refrigerator. “Mary brought this over this morning. That woman is a saint. I gave her the day off, yet she still came over with this pie.”

Fresh whipped cream and split strawberries circled the top of the pie.

Mia took a look. “Wow, it’s beautiful. Mary reminds me of my gram. Eating is a priority. And she makes enough food for an army. You’ll never go hungry if my gram is around.”

“I think I like her already.” Adam grabbed a cake knife from the block.

“You would. She’s the best.”

Adam made the first cut, slicing up a large wedge of pie. “Whoa,” Mia said, moving close to him. “I hope that piece is for you.”

Her hand slid over his as she helped guide the knife down to cut another thinner wedge. Instant jolts hit him in the gut. Mia touching him, the softness of her flesh on his. She’d gotten under his skin so fast, so easily. Her scent, something light, flowery and erotic, swam in his head, and he couldn’t let her go.

“Mia,” he said. Turning to her, the back side of his hand brushed a few strands of hair off her face. Her eyes lifted, jade pools glowing up at him. They both dropped the knife, and he entwined their fingers, tugging her closer until her breasts crushed against his chest. “Mia,” he said again, brushing his mouth to her hair, her forehead and then down to her mouth. His lips trembled there, waiting for invitation.

“Kiss me, Adam,” she whispered.

His mouth claimed hers then, tenderly, a testing and tasting of lips. Oh God, she was soft and supple and so damn tempting. He was holding back, not to frighten her, holding back to give her time to get used to him. Every nerve in his body tingled.

She touched his face, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw. A sound emerged from his throat, raw and guttural, and as her willing lips opened, he drove his tongue into her mouth. Her breath was coming fast—he could feel it, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against his chest. His groin tightened, and he fought for control. He had to end the kiss. Had to step away. She turned his nerves into a crazed batch of male hormones. He swept his tongue into her soft hollows one more time, then mastered half a step back, breaking off the connection.

It was too much, too soon and crazy. She brought out his primal instincts. The jackhammering in his chest heated his blood. He held her in his arms, his forehead pressed to hers; then he brushed a kiss there. “Go out with me tomorrow night, Mia,” he whispered. There was raw urgency in his request. Did he sound desperate?

Her expression shifted from glazed-over passion to concentration. Her silence worried the hell out of him. “Okay,” she finally whispered back, her voice breathy and as tortured as his. “I’d better go now, Adam.”

He didn’t want her to leave. He couldn’t get enough of her, but he wasn’t going to press his luck. She wasn’t a one-night-stand type of woman, and he was glad about that. “I’ll see you out.” He took her hand, the strawberry pie forgotten, and walked her to the front door. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gazed into her eyes. “Thanks for the meal.”

“My pleasure.”

“It was delicious.” So was she. “I’ll need your address.”

“Six four, six four Atlantic. It’s easy. Apartment ten, first floor.”

He repeated her address, cementing it into his brain, and then opened the door for her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

It was only a few steps, but he took her hand again, fitting it to his and she turned her leaf-green eyes his way. He melted a little inside. It would be a long twenty hours. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“That’s perfect.”

Breath released from his lungs. “See you then.”

He bent his head and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Her sweet taste and softness seared him like a sizzling-hot branding iron.

He shut her car door. As she started the engine he gave her a smile, lifting his hand in a wave. Mia wiggled her fingers back and drove down his driveway, turning onto Pacific Coast Highway.





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