Read Online His Illegitimate Heir by Sarah M. Anderson - Free Book Online

that anyone remembered a distant runner-up for the Heisman who hadn’t played ball in years. “I’ve learned it’s best not to underestimate her. Ms. Johnson is my brewmaster.”
    It was hard to get the drop on Jamal, but one small woman in a lab coat clearly had. “What are you doing here?” Casey sniffed the air. “God, that smells good.”
    Honest to God, Jamal blushed. “Oh. Thank you.” He glanced nervously at Zeb.
    â€œJamal is my oldest friend,” Zeb explained. He almost added, He’s the closest thing I have to a brother —but then he stopped himself. Even if it was true, the whole point of this endeavor with the Beaumont Brewery was to prove that he had a family whether they wanted him or not. “He is my right-hand man. One of his many talents is cooking. I asked him to prepare some of my favorites today to accompany our tasting.” He turned to Jamal, whose mouth was still flopped open in shock. “What did you bring?” Zeb prodded.
    â€œWhat? Oh, right. The food.” It was so unusual to hear Jamal sound unsure of himself that Zeb had to stare. “It’s a tasting menu,” he began, sounding embarrassed about it. It was rare that Jamal’s past life in sports ever intersected with his current life. Actually, Zeb couldn’t remember a time when someone who hadn’t played football recognized him.
    Jamal ran through the menu—in addition to the salt-crusted beef tenderloin, which had been paired with new potatoes, there was a spaghetti Bolognese, a vichyssoise soup and Jamal’s famous fried chicken. Dessert was flourless chocolate cupcakes dusted with powdered sugar—Zeb’s favorite.
    Casey surveyed the feast before her, and Zeb got the feeling that she didn’t approve. He couldn’t say why he thought that, because she was perfectly polite to Jamal at all times. In fact, when he tried to leave, she insisted on getting a picture with him so she could send it to her father—apparently, her father was a huge sports fan and would also know who Jamal was.
    So Zeb took the photo for her and then Jamal hurried away, somewhere between flattered and uncomfortable.
    And then Zeb and Casey were alone.
    She didn’t move. “So Jamal Hitchens is an old friend of yours?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd he’s your...personal chef?”
    Zeb settled into his seat at the head of the conference table. “Among other things, yes.” He didn’t offer up any other information.
    â€œYou don’t really strike me as a sports guy,” she replied.
    â€œCome, now, Ms. Johnson. Surely you’ve researched me by now?”
    Her cheeks colored again. He liked that delicate blush on her. He shouldn’t, but he did. “I don’t remember reading about you owning a sports franchise.”
    Zeb lifted one shoulder. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll buy a team and make Jamal the general manager. After all, what goes together better than sports and beer?”
    She was still standing near the door, as if he were an alligator that looked hungry. Finally, she asked, “Have you decided, then?”
    â€œAbout what?”
    He saw her swallow, but it was the only betrayal of her nerves. Well, that and the fact that she wasn’t smart-mouthing him. Actually, that she wasn’t saying whatever came to mind was unusual.
    â€œAbout what kind of Beaumont you’re going to be.”
    He involuntarily tensed and then let out a breath slowly. Like his father or his brother? He had no idea.
    He wanted to ask what she knew—was it the same as the public image of the company? Or was there something else he didn’t know? Maybe his father had secretly been the kindest man on earth. Or maybe Chadwick was just as bad as Hardwick had been. He didn’t know.
    What he did know was that the last time he’d seen her, he’d had the urge to kiss her. It’d been nerves, he’d