A Taste of Heaven (Billionaires' Secrets Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

idea who you were!” A flush of color spread from her sharp collarbone up her neck. “I didn’t intend to sleep with anyone, least of all...” She swallowed hard.
    Your stepson?
    His mind boggled. “What makes you think I’m your husband’s son?”
    “Late husband. He died six months ago.” Grief, still sharp, was evident in the suddenly taut lines of her face.
    Pity surged through him. “I’m sorry.”
    “When he found out he was dying, we decided to try and find the children he’d fathered. We hired a researcher and gave her all the information he had. We then tracked down the individuals indicated in the research and administered DNA tests to see if they really were related. We found his sons Dominic and Amado this way.”
    “And how did your research lead to me?”
    “Your mother is Bijou DuLac.”
    “I am aware of that, yes.”
    “She had an affair with Tarrant—my late husband.”
    “In Paris?” His mother had lived in Paris since before he was born.
    “In New York. She was visiting the city for a series of concerts. They spent a month together, then she moved back to Paris. According to our researcher, she gave birth to a son exactly eight months later. We believe you’re that son.”
    Something hot and uncomfortable slid down his spine.
    “I am my mother’s only child, so if she had a son, it’s me.” He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice.
    Who were these people sitting in offices analyzing his existence?
    He’d never known who his father was and he’d gotten along just fine without that knowledge. He certainly didn’t need someone shoving a parent—a dead one, at that—down his throat now that he was long past needing one.
    He cocked his head. “My mother told me I was born of the chance meeting between a double bass and a saxophone.”
    Samantha Hardcastle blinked. “Which one was she?”
    He laughed. “I don’t know. She didn’t say.”
    Her expression softened and the sparkle in her eyes reminded him of how she’d looked last night. Beautiful. So feminine and alive.
    Right now she wore a cool, mint-green dress with short sleeves and a scooped neck. Fresh and edible as a mint julep.
    He leaned toward her. “I don’t know if I’m the person you’re looking for, but I’m glad that your search brought you back. It was rude of you to sneak out without a goodbye kiss.”
    Maybe he’d hoped to see a pretty flush of color light her cheeks, or a flutter of remorseful eyelashes. Instead, the shine left her eyes and her mouth tightened.
    “I’m so sorry.” She looked down, twisting her hands in her lap. “I don’t know what to say. What a terrible thing. It should never have happened.”
    Her voice shook and he saw her hands tremble. He wanted to take her in his arms.
    But she’d just told him that the night she’d spent in his bed was regrettable.
    He wanted to be mad, but she looked like she was about to cry.
    “You’re lucky my feelings aren’t easily hurt.” He managed to keep his tone light. “Women don’t usually look back on a night in my bed like they screwed up and spent a night in jail.”
    “I had no idea who you were.” She stared at him, blue eyes wide and brimming with tears.
    “You still have no idea who I am. We didn’t do all that much talking. But I’ll start. I was born in Paris and grew up both there and here in New Orleans. I own six five-star restaurants and when the mood is right I play a little guitar.” He narrowed his eyes. “But maybe you did know all that?”
    She gulped. “All except the guitar.”
    “Thing is, I don’t know anything at all about you. Maybe we should correct that.”
    She drew in a shaky breath, which had the unfortunate effect of filling the bodice of her minty dress with her perky breasts. His pants grew tight.
    “Have you heard of Tarrant Hardcastle?”
    “Of course. I’ve eaten at The Moon in New York. It even inspired the name of my newest restaurant.”
    “La Ronde,” she murmured.
    “You have