Charlene Sands – The Billionaire's Daddy Test (страница 2)

“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.