Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7)

by Layla Valentine

  “I think I can handle that,” said Luz.

  We got right to it. Together, the two of us plated the ducks, one by one. As soon as we finished, I realized that there was one left over. Perplexed, I checked the guest list that Mr. King had provided for me. Sure enough, there was one more duck than guests.

  That’s when I remembered Mr. King’s request. Still flummoxed, I hurriedly pulled out my phone and sent him a text letting him know that the main course was ready. Seconds later, he appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

  “All ready to go?” he asked before taking a long, slow sniff of the air.

  “Yep,” I said. “Just need to bring them out.”

  “Great,” he said. “And you surely noticed that there’s one extra, correct?”

  “I…I did,” I said.

  “And you noticed that there’s an extra seat?”

  “I did.”

  “They both belong to you,” he said with a smile. “Come join us for dinner, Chloe.”

  With that, he turned on his heels and disappeared back into the dining room, not giving me a chance to respond.

  Chapter 2

  Chloe

  “Get on out there, girl!” said Luz as she took a pair of plates into her hands.

  “I…I still need to help you bring them out,” I said, trying to collect myself. I was still in shock from Mr. King’s invitation.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Luz said. “I can handle bringing out a few plates. When the boss asks for your company, you don’t keep him waiting.”

  My heart beat at a quickened tempo in my chest. I pulled off my chef’s coat, revealing the simple light-blue T-shirt and dark, slim-fit jeans that I wore underneath. I took a quick glance at a pan hanging nearby, my eyes on my reflection as I tied my curly blond hair into a quick ponytail. I looked a mess, but it was as good as I was going to be able to do with two-minutes’ notice.

  “Go, go!” said Luz, setting down one of the plates long enough to give my rear a swat.

  “Ah!” I cried, followed by a lilting laugh.

  I hurried out to the dining room, the eyes of everyone on me. Jordan’s eyes were especially inquisitive. He seemed to enjoy the sight of me out of my baggy chef’s coat, his gaze moving over my body totally unapologetically.

  “There she is,” said Mr. King with a smile. “Have a seat, Chloe. Enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

  I took a quick, deep breath before striding over to my seat. As soon as my butt hit the chair, I felt Jordan’s eyes on me again, that cocky little smile visible out of the corner of my eye. He was already making it clear right from the outset that he was very, very interested in me, and he didn’t care one bit if I knew it.

  I turned my attention to the duck in front of me. Between the smell of the food and the presence of an impossibly handsome man like Jordan next to me, my head swam. Sure, there were about a dozen other people at the table, men and women of San Bravado’s elite, but at that moment it seemed like it was only Jordan and me.

  Mr. King poured me a tall glass of wine.

  “I hope you being done with your duties means you can enjoy some wine with us,” he said.

  “Oh, of course,” I said.

  Mr. King smiled and raised his glass. “To a delicious meal with wonderful company,” he said.

  The rest of the table raised their glasses and let out a hearty cheer.

  “Well,” said Mr. King. “I won’t keep you all any longer—bon appétit!”

  The guests set into their meals, all of them as eager as I was. I took my knife and fork into my hand and cut off a slice of duck breast, the meat glistening and enticing. I brought the morsel up to my mouth and took a bite.

  Damn, it was good. The fattiness of the duck mingled perfectly with the sharp citrus of the orange, the two distinct flavors melting together into a taste that was rich, comforting, and savory, the blend of the herbs elevating it all to something truly special. I held the meat in my mouth for a moment before swallowing, allowing the disparate flavors to mingle on my palate.

  Mr. King chewed his food slowly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just incredible,” he said. “You knocked it out of the park tonight.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded from the guests.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it.”

  “I understand Alfred plucked you from the Westchester,” said a well-dressed, middle-aged man with a clean-shaved head.

  “He did,” I said. “I served him a cut of meat that sent him storming into the kitchen demanding to know who was responsible.”

  Laughter sounded from the table.

  “What can I say?” asked Mr. King. “You don’t get to where I am by letting talent slip through your fingers.”

  “Mhmm,” said Jordan, finally speaking. “My father and I both know how important it is to go for what you want as soon as you know you want it.”

  And there was that smile again out of the corner of my eye. Mr. King may have been referring to me in a professional context, but Jordan was clearly suggesting something else entirely.

  The double meaning of what he’d said slipped past the guests as another hot blush returned to my face. Soon, the guests were fully engrossed in their meals, several small conversations breaking out among them. Everyone was involved in conversation except for Jordan and me.

  “How does it feel to be the star of the show?” he asked, turning toward me and popping a small piece of duck into his mouth.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “I think your father likes his staff to know that they’re appreciated.”

  Jordan nodded slowly. “He’s very benevolent like that. We both know how important it is to show appreciation for talent. Or beauty.”

  My eyes went wide, and I nearly spit out the wine I was in the process of sipping.

  I glanced around the room, noting all of the modern art hung on the walls.

  “Yes,” I said. “Your dad really does have an appreciation for the finer things.”

  I realized that I’d walked into another of Jordan’s flirts. But he let this obvious set-up slide.

  “So, little miss chef,” he said. “How are you liking it here at my father’s humble abode?”

  I had to laugh. While Mr. King was a kind man with a good handle on his ego, his sprawling mansion was anything but humble.

  “It’s been wonderful so far. Not sure if that’s the word I’d use to describe this place, though.”

  Jordan chuckled. “You’re right about that. My dad isn’t much for being braggadocious about what he has. He prefers to let it all do the talking for him.” Jordan took a slow sip of wine. “But enough about him,” he said. “I’m more interested in you.”

  The feeling was more than mutual. Under the hot gaze of those gorgeous eyes, I felt thrilled and turned-on and nervous all at once. Jordan was stunning, and he knew it. Between his family’s wealth and his model-worthy good looks, he could have any woman in the city he wanted. And at this moment, it seemed like the woman he wanted was me.

  “Then ask away,” I said. “I’m not all that private of a person.”

  “I want to know what you do when you’re not getting all sweaty slaving over a hot stove,” he said.

  The little glimmer in his eyes made it very clear that he was certainly imagining me all hot and sweaty. I gulped, my hand settling on my throat.

  “Cooking is my life,” I said. “If I’m not cooking, I’m studying cooking or eating.”

  “Well,” he said, dabbing a small spot of duck sauce from his lip. “If that’s the case, then I can’t wait to taste everything that you have to offer.”

  My eyes went wide. I couldn’t believe how forward he was being, how cocky. Normally I’d be put off by a man who was this direct, but despite the short amount of time that he and I had been speaking, I was already under Jordan’s spell.

  “Then I’ll have to make something special, just for you,” I said.

  “You have no idea how
much I’d like that,” he said, his body moving toward me, cutting the distance that separated us down to only a few tense inches.

  But before the flirting could go on any longer, one of the guests called Jordan’s name. The two of us quickly glanced up, snapping out of our conversation.

  The voice belonged to a business-like, middle-aged woman whom I recognized as the CEO of one of the local tech companies—something to do with cloud security.

  “Yes, Mrs. Rodríguez?” Jordan responded, that charming smile not leaving his mouth.

  “Please,” she said. “Call me Gloria.”

  “Certainly, Gloria.”

  All it took was his tone for a trace of blush to appear on Mrs. Rodríguez’s face. Jordan was a born flirt—all it took was a glance and a smile for any woman to know what was on his mind. And it seemed like no woman, be they a CEO or a chef, was immune to his charms.

  “What brings you out to your father’s place? I hear that you have quite the place downtown.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “But I don’t need an excuse to visit my father.”

  Mr. King laughed.

  “In this case, he does,” Mr. King said. “Jordan’s penthouse is undergoing some remodeling, so he’s going to be here for the next few days.”

  “Just putting in some new countertops,” said Jordan. “But nothing I want to be around for.”

  My heart leaped at the idea of Jordan being around here longer than only tonight. I had to take another sip of wine to calm myself down. I was getting as stupidly giddy as a high-schooler who got winked at by the captain of the football team.

  “So,” said Mrs. Rodríguez. “You must be keeping busy with work. What is it that you do again?”

  Jordan smirked.

  “I’m not much for work,” he said. “I have plenty going on around town to keep me busy.”

  “Jordan doesn’t like to dirty his hands with labor,” said Mr. King. “He’s more the full-time-bachelor type.”

  I detected a slight trace of annoyance in Mr. King’s voice—something that was very unlike him. I got the distinct impression that he wasn’t all too thrilled about this bit of information, that Jordan was living what I assumed was a life of luxury and ease, all on his father’s dime.

  “I recognize that I’m in a very privileged position,” said Jordan. “And I’m taking my time to find out what it is that I want to devote my life to. It’s a decision that I’m not going to take lightly.”

  “That’s right,” said Mr. King. “So far Jordan has it narrowed down to ‘chasing women,’ ‘drinking at expensive rooftop bars,’ and ‘jet-setting across the globe.’”

  Light laughs broke out across the table, and while Mr. King was clearly making a joke, that same trace of impatience was still there.

  “What can I say?” said Jordan. “I take what I do very seriously.”

  The idea of not having to work for a living was totally crazy to me. I’d grown up in a middle-class home in the suburbs of the city. I’d been working since I was fourteen, when I’d begged one of the chefs at a seafood place near my home to let me help out in the kitchen.

  “Well,” said Mrs. Rodríguez. “Take your time. I know that you have the potential to be great at anything you set your mind to.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rodríguez,” he said.

  Then his eyes flicked over to me, and I knew right at that moment what he was setting his mind to.

  We finished up our dinners before I hurried into the kitchen where I took the crème brûlées out of the fridge, gave them all a quick burn, and brought them out to the table. The guests ate their desserts, and I was beginning to feel the buzz of the wine that I’d been sipping throughout the meal.

  Once we were done eating, everyone at the table sat back in their chairs, full and content.

  “Well,” said Alfred, folding his hands over his belly, “I think it’s safe to consider this meal another roaring success.”

  I couldn’t help but let a broad smile spread across my face as the rest of the guests nodded in agreement. The look that Jordan gave me, on the other hand, made it very clear that he wanted more than my cooking.

  “Simple, classic, and immensely satisfying,” Alfred continued. “You do fine work, Chloe.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ki— I mean, Alfred,” I said. “It’s my pleasure.”

  His warm expression made it clear that he was happy I’d remembered to call him by his first name.

  “Now,” he said. “I think it’s time to retire to a more comfortable chair. If you all don’t mind joining me…”

  Chairs groaned across the floor as the guests got up and filed out with Mr. King. Jordan went along with them, but not before flashing me another heated glance. Another blush spread over my cheeks. I couldn’t believe the effect this man was having on me.

  Once the guests had gone, I started piling up the remaining dishes to bring them to the kitchen. Luz was already there, finishing up putting the first round of plates and glasses into the dishwasher.

  “Luz,” I asked, already feeling silly. “What do you know about Alfred’s son?”

  Luz raised her eyebrows.

  “Jordan? A rich playboy who hasn’t worked a day in his life. What else is there to know? Well, I supposed there’s the fact that he’s about as handsome as they come. Why?”

  There was a pause, then Luz let out an “ahh” as she realized why I was asking.

  “Boy’s worked his magic on you, huh?” she asked.

  “No,” I quickly added. “We were just talking during dinner, and I realized how strange it was that I knew so little about him.”

  Luz regarded me skeptically as she took the pile of ramekins.

  “Chloe, I know the heart wants what it wants, but you need to be careful with a man like that. He goes through women like Alfred goes through bottles of fancy wine.”

  “Who said anything about the heart?” I asked. “I was just curious.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Luz, not buying what I was selling.

  The two of us finished cleaning up and by the time we were done, I needed some fresh air. I stepped out onto the house’s massive back balcony. The view looked out over the gently rolling waves of the ocean, the full moon hanging over the water like a big silver coin.

  “Lovely night,” came a voice from behind me.

  I turned to see Jordan strolling out with a confident stride, a champagne flute in each hand.

  “Then again,” he said, coming to my side and handing me one of the glasses, “I suppose they’re all beautiful in a city like this.”

  “Almost makes it boring,” I said softly, taking the glass from him.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Jordan said, the look in his eyes sending the message that he wasn’t talking about the weather.

  A smile played on my lips as I let his words hang in the air.

  “So, chef,” he said. “It looks like you and I were going to be seeing more of each other in the next few days.”

  “That’s what it looks like,” I said. “Must be rough being out of the penthouse.”

  “I’ll make do,” he said, stepping right around my little jab. “Nice to be back home every now and then. Especially when my dad’s added someone like you to his staff.”

  I chucked. “You’re confident. I’ll give you that,” I said.

  “No sense in being shy about what I want. Life’s too short for that.”

  And there I went, blushing again. Jordan took a sip of his wine as he turned his gaze back to the house.

  “I should get back in there,” he said. “I figured you could use a little something after your busy night.”

  “Appreciated,” I said.

  “See you around, chef,” he said before turning and heading back into the house.

  I watched him leave, my eyes locked onto his rear, gorgeous and perfectly fitted in his expensive slacks.

  I’m sure I will, I thought to myself.

  Chapter 3

  Chloe


  The following Monday passed by so quickly that I could hardly believe it. I’d showed up to work the next day, both ready to cook and eager to see Jordan again. To my disappointment, Alfred informed me that Jordan wasn’t going to be in—he evidently had plans with friends at some trendy club downtown.

  I couldn’t believe how much my heart sank when Alfred told me this. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, Jordan had wrapped me up in his charms. But I did my best to keep Luz’s words about Jordan’s womanizing ways in mind.

  Soon it was Tuesday, and I decided to stop into Blue Line, one of my favorite coffee shops in downtown San Bravado. I sat down with a vanilla latte in my favorite spot near the front windows, ready to get a few pages in of the trashy thriller I was reading.

  I didn’t even manage to get a paragraph into my book before a familiar figure strode into the shop—Jordan King.

  My eyes locked onto him instantly, though I almost didn’t recognize him in casual clothes. He was dressed in dark jeans cuffed over black boots, along with a white V-neck that clung snugly to his broad shoulders and the solid squares of his pecs. His red hair was tussled, a stark contrast to the slicked-back look he’d sported the other night. Even dressed simply like this he was impossibly gorgeous.

  His ice-blue eyes flicked onto me for long enough to let me know that I’d been noticed. The slight curl of his lips sent the clear message that he was both pleased to see me and eager to say hello. My heart thudded in my chest as Jordan stepped up to the counter and ordered his drink. By the time he strolled over to me, steaming cup of coffee in hand, I could hardly think straight.

  “Afternoon, chef,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me.

  “Afternoon,” I said. “Not going to ask before you take the seat? I could have company.”

  He cocked his head slightly before taking a glance at my book. “What, were you reading aloud to someone from The Grimm Academy Murders?”

  My face turned hot, and I immediately closed the book and turned it upside down. “Not exactly the Iliad, I know,” I said. “Just passing the time before work. Guilty pleasure, you know?”