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

decided. He’d been concerned about the press conference and Casey Johnson was the closest thing to a friendly face here—when she wasn’t scowling at him. That was all that passing desire had been. Reassurance. Comfort.
    He didn’t feel comfortable now.
    â€œI’m going to be a different kind of Beaumont,” he said confidently because it was the only true thing he could say. “I’m my own man.”
    She thought this over. “And what kind of man is that?”
    She had guts, he had to admit. Anyone else might have nodded and smiled and said, Of course . But not her. “The kind with strong opinions about beer.”
    â€œFair enough.” She headed for the bar.
    Zeb watched her as she pulled on the tap with a smooth, practiced hand. He needed to stop being surprised at her competency. She was the brewmaster. Of course she knew how to pour beer. Tapping the keg was probably second nature to her. And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she could also destroy him in a sports trivia contest.
    But this was different from watching a bartender fill a pint glass. Watching her hands on the taps was far more interesting than it’d ever been before. She had long fingers and they wrapped around each handle with a firm, sure grip.
    Unexpectedly, he found himself wondering what else she’d grip like that. But the moment the thought found its way to his consciousness, he pushed it aside. This wasn’t about attraction. This was about beer.
    Then she glanced up at him and a soft smile ghosted across her lips, like she was actually glad to see him, and Zeb forgot about beer. Instead, he openly stared at her. Was she glad he was here? Was she able to look at him and see not just a hidden bastard or a ruthless businessman but...
    ...him? Did she see him ?
    Zeb cleared his throat and shifted in his seat as Casey gathered up the pint glasses. After a moment’s consideration, she set down one pair of glasses in front of the tenderloin and another in front of the pasta. Zeb reached for the closest glass, but she said, “Wait! If we’re going to do this right, I have to walk you through the beers.”
    â€œIs there a wrong way to drink beer?” he asked, pulling his hand back.
    â€œMr. Richards,” she said, exasperated. “This is a tasting. We’re not ‘drinking beer.’ I don’t drink on the job—none of us do. I sample. That’s all this is.”
    She was scolding him, he realized. He was confident that he’d never been scolded by an employee before. The thought made him laugh—which got him some serious side-eye.
    â€œFine,” he said, trying to restrain himself. When had that become difficult to do? He was always restrained. Always. “We’ll do this your way.”
    He’d told Jamal the truth. He should never underestimate Casey Johnson.
    She went back behind his bar and filled more half-pint glasses, twenty in all. Each pair was placed in front of a different dish. And the whole time, she was quiet.
    Silence was a negotiating tactic and, as such, one that never worked on Zeb. Except...he felt himself getting twitchy as he watched her focus on her work. The next thing he knew, he was volunteering information. “Four people in the marketing department have resigned,” he announced into the silence. “You were right about that.”
    She shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “You gave a nice talk about family honor and a bunch of other stuff, but you didn’t warn anyone that you were bringing in a new CMO. People were upset.”
    Was she upset? No, it didn’t matter, he told himself. He wasn’t in this business for the touchy-feely. He was in it to make money. Well, that and to get revenge against the Beaumonts.
    So, with that firmly in mind, he said, “The position was vacant. And Daniel’s brilliant when it comes to campaigns. I have no doubt the skills he learned in