His Illegitimate Heir Page 3

  Richards snatched his hand back and put it in his pocket like he was trying to hide something. “I can neither confirm nor deny that—at least, not until the press conference on Friday.” He moved away from the conference table and toward his desk.

  If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn’t working. Casey followed him. He sat behind the desk—the same place she had seen Chadwick Beaumont too many times to count and, at least three times, Hardwick Beaumont. The resemblance was unmistakable.

  “My God,” she repeated again. “You’re one of the bastards.”

  He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. Everything about him had shut down. No traces of humor, no hints of warmth. She was staring at the coldest man she’d ever seen. “The bastards?”

  “Beaumont’s bastards—there were always rumors that Hardwick had a bunch of illegitimate children.” She blinked. It all made sense, in a way. The Beaumonts were a notoriously good-looking group of men and women—far too handsome for their own good. And this man... He was gorgeous. But not the same kind of blond handsomeness that had marked Chadwick and Matthew Beaumont. She knew he would stand out in a crowd of Beaumonts. Hell, he would stand out in any crowd. “He was your father, wasn’t he?”

  Richards stared at her for a long time and she got the feeling he was making some sort of decision. She didn’t know what—he hadn’t fired her yet but the day wasn’t over.

  Her mind felt like it was fizzing with information. Zeb Richards—the mysterious man who was rumored to have single-handedly driven down the brewery’s stock price so he could force AllBev to sell off the company—was a Beaumont? Did Chadwick know? Was he in on it or was this something else?

  One word whispered across her mind. Revenge.

  Because up until about thirty-seven seconds ago, Beaumont’s bastards had never been anything but a rumor. And now one of them had the company.

  She had no idea if this was a good thing or a very, very bad thing.

  Suddenly, Richards leaned forward and made a minute adjustment to something on his desk. “We’ve gotten off track. Your primary reason for barging into my office unannounced was about résumés.”

  She felt like a bottle of beer that had been shaken but hadn’t been opened. At any second, she might explode from the pressure. “Right,” she agreed, collapsing into the chair in front of his desk. “The problem is, some of my employees have been here for twenty, thirty years and they don’t have a résumé ready to go. Producing one on short notice is going to cause nothing but panic. They aren’t the kind of guys who look good on paper. What matters is that they do good work for me and we produce a quality product.” She took a deep breath, trying to sound managerial. “Are you familiar with our product line?”

  The corner of Richard’s mouth twitched. “It’s beer, right?”

  She rolled her eyes at him, which, surprisingly, made him grin even more. Oh, that was a bad idea, making him smile like that, because when he did, all the hard, cold edges fell away from his face. He was the kind of handsome that wasn’t fair to the rest of humanity.

  Sinful. That was what he was. And she had been too well behaved for too long.

  She shivered. She wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the smile on his face or the fact that she was cooling off and her sweat-soaked shirt was now sticking to her skin. “That’s correct. We brew beer here. I appreciate you giving me the go-ahead to hire more workers but that’s a process that will take weeks. Training will also take time. Placing additional paperwork demands on my staff runs the risk of compromising the quality of our beer.”

  Richards didn’t say anything. Casey cleared her throat. “You are interested in the beer, right?”

  He gave her another one of those measured looks. Casey sighed. She really wasn’t so complicated that he had to stare at her.

  “I’m interested in the beer,” he finally said. “This is a family company and I’d like to keep it that way. I must say,” he went on before Casey could ask about that whole “family” thing, “I certainly appreciate your willingness to defend your staff. However, I’d like to be reassured that the employees who work for this brewery not only are able to follow basic instructions,” he added with a notch of his eyebrow that made Casey want to pound on something, “but have the skills to take this company in a new direction.”

  “A new direction? We’re...still going to brew beer, right? We’re not getting into electronics or apps or anything?”

  “Oh, we’ll be getting into apps,” he said. “But I need to know if there’s anyone on staff who can handle that or if I’m going to need to bring in an outside developer—you see my point, don’t you? The Beaumont Brewery has been losing market share. You brew seven thousand gallons a day—but it was eleven thousand years ago. The popularity of craft breweries—and I’m including Percheron Drafts in that—has slowly eroded our sales.”

  Our sales? He was serious, she realized. He was here to run this company.

  “While I understand Logan’s cost-cutting measures,” he went on, oblivious to the way her mouth had dropped open, “what we need to do at this point is not to hunker down and hope for the best, but invest heavily in research and development—new products. And part of that is connecting with our audience.” His gaze traveled around the room and Casey thought there was something about him that seemed...hopeful, almost.

  She wanted to like her job. She wanted to like working for Zeb Richards. And if he was really talking about launching new products—new beers—well, then she might like her job again. The feeling that blossomed in her chest was so unfamiliar that it took a second to realize what it was—hope. Hope that this might actually work out.

  “Part of what made the Beaumont Brewery a success was its long family traditions,” Richards went on in a quiet voice. “That’s why Logan failed. The employees liked Chadwick—any idiot knows that. And his brother Phillip? Phillip was the brewery’s connection with our target market. When we lost both Phillip and Chadwick, the brewery lost its way.”

  Everything he said made sense. Because Casey had spent the last year not only feeling lost but knowing they were lost. They lost ground, they lost employees, they lost friends—they lost the knowledge and the tradition that had made them great. She was only one woman—one woman who liked to make beer. She couldn’t save the company all by herself but she was doing her damnedest to save the beer.

  Still, Richards had been on the job for about two hours now—maybe less. He was talking a hell of a good game, but at this point, that was all it was—talk. All talk and sinful handsomeness, with a hearty dollop of mystery.

  But action was what this company needed. His mesmerizing eyes wouldn’t right this ship all by themselves.

  Still, if Richards really was a Beaumont by birth—bastard or not—he just might be able to do it. She’d long ago learned to never underestimate the Beaumonts.

  “So you’re going to be the one to light the path?”

  He stared her in the eyes, one eyebrow gently lifted. God, if she wasn’t careful, she could get lost in his gaze. “I have a plan, Ms. Johnson. You let me worry about the company and you worry about the beer.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she muttered.

  She stood because it seemed like a final sort of statement. But Richards stopped her. “How many workers do you need to hire?”

  “At least ten. What I need most right now is maintenance staff. I don’t know how much you know about beer, but most of what I do is automated. It’s making sure to push the right button at the right time and checking to make sure that things come together the right way. It doesn’t take a lot of know-how to brew beer, honestly, once you have the recipes.” At this statement, both of his eyebrows lifted. “But keeping equipment running is another matter. It’s hot, messy work and I need at least eight people who can take a tank apart and put it back together in less tha
n an hour.”

  He thought about that for a moment. “I don’t mean to be rude, but is that what you were doing before you came in here?”

  She rolled her eyes again. “What gave it away?”

  He grinned. Casey took another step back from the desk—away from Zeb Richards smiling at her. She tried to take comfort in the fact that he probably knew exactly how lethal his grin could be. Men as gorgeous as he was didn’t get through life without knowing exactly what kind of effect they had on women—and it usually made them jerks. Which was fine. Gorgeous jerks never went for women like her and she didn’t bother with them, either.

  But there was something in the way he was looking at her that felt like a warning.

  “I’ll compromise with you, Ms. Johnson. You and your staff will be excused from submitting résumés.”

  That didn’t sound like a compromise. That sounded like she was getting everything she asked for. Which meant the other shoe was about to drop. “And?”

  “Instead...” He paused and shot her another grin. This one wasn’t warm and fuzzy—this one was the sharp smile of a man who’d somehow bought a company out from under the Beaumonts. Out from under his own family. “...you and your team will produce a selection of new beers for me to choose from.”

  That was one hell of a shoe—and it had landed right on her. “I’m sorry?”

  “Your point that the skills of some of your employees won’t readily translate into bullet points on a résumé is well taken. So I’d like to see their skills demonstrated in action.”

  She knew her mouth was open, but she didn’t think she could get it closed. She gave it a shot—nope, it was still open. “I can’t just...”

  “You do know how to brew beer, don’t you?”

  He was needling her—and it was working, dammit. “Of course I know how to brew beer. I’ve been brewing Beaumont beer for twelve years.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  It was probably bad form to strangle your boss on his first day on the job. Tempting, though. “I can’t just produce beer by snapping my fingers. I have to test new recipes—and some of them are not going to work—and then there’s the brewing time, and I won’t be able to do any of that until I get more staff hired.”

  “How long will it take?”

  She grasped at the first number that popped into her mind. “Two months. At least. Maybe three.”

  “Fine. Three months to hire the workers and test some new recipes.” He sat forward in his chair and dropped his gaze to the desk, as if they were done.

  “It isn’t that simple,” she told him. “We need to get Marketing to provide us with guidance on what’s currently popular and two—”

  “I don’t care what Marketing says.” He cut her off. “This is my company and I want it to brew beers that I like.”

  “But I don’t even know what you like.” The moment the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. But it was too late. He fixed those eyes on her. Heat flushed down her back, warming her from the inside out. “I mean, when it comes to beer,” she quickly corrected. “We’ve got everything on tap...” she added, trying not to blush as she motioned to the bar that ran along one side of the wall.

  Richards leaned forward on his elbows as his gaze raked up and down her body again. Damn it all, he was a jerk. He only confirmed it when he opened his mouth and said, “I’d be more than happy to take some time after work and show you exactly what I like.”

  Well. If that was how it was going to be, he was making it a lot easier not to develop a crush on him. Because she had not gotten this job by sleeping her way to the top. He might be the most beautiful man she’d ever seen and those green eyes were the stuff of fantasy—but none of it mattered if he used his power as CEO to take advantage of his employees. She was good at what she did and she wouldn’t let anyone take that away from her.

  “Mr. Richards, you’re going to have to decide what kind of Beaumont you are going to be—if you really are one.” His eyes hardened, but she didn’t back down. “Because if you’re going to be a predator like your father instead of a businessman like your brother, you’re going to need a new brewmaster.”

  Head held high, she walked out of his office and back to her own.

  Then she updated her résumé.

  Three

  Zeb did not have time to think about his new brewmaster’s parting shot. It was, however, difficult not to think about her.

  He’d known full well there would be pushback against the memo. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her he wanted to see who could follow directions—but he also wanted to see who wouldn’t and why. Because the fact was, having the entire company divert work hours to producing résumés was not an efficient use of time. And the workers who already had up-to-date résumés ready to go—well, that was because they were a flight risk.

  He couldn’t say he was surprised when the brewmaster was the first person to call him on it.

  But he still couldn’t believe the brewmaster was a young woman with fire in her eyes and a fierce instinct to protect her employees. A woman who didn’t look at him like he was ripe for the picking. A woman who took one look at him—okay, maybe more than one—and saw the truth.

  A young woman with a hell of a mouth on her.

  Zeb pushed Casey Johnson from his mind and picked up his phone. He started scrolling through his contacts until he came to one name in particular—Daniel Lee. He dialed and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Daniel—it’s Zeb. Are you still in?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. Daniel Lee was a former political operative who’d worked behind the scenes to get several incumbents defeated. He could manipulate public perception and he could drill down into data. But that wasn’t why Zeb called him.

  Daniel—much like Zeb—was one of them. Beaumont’s bastards.

  “Where are you?” Daniel asked, and Zeb didn’t miss the way he neatly avoided the question.

  “Sitting in the CEO’s office of the Beaumont Brewery. I scheduled a press conference for Friday—I’d like you to be there. I want to show the whole world that they can’t ignore us anymore.”

  There was another pause. On one level, Zeb appreciated that Daniel was methodical. Everything he did was well thought-out and carefully researched, with the data to back it up.

  But on the other hand, Zeb didn’t want his relationship with his brother to be one based solely on how the numbers played out. He didn’t know Daniel very well—they’d met only two months ago, after Zeb had spent almost a year and thousands upon thousands of dollars tracking down two of his half brothers. But he and Daniel were family all the same and when Zeb announced to the world that he was a Beaumont and this was his brewery, he wanted his brothers by his side.

  “What about CJ?” Daniel asked.

  Zeb exhaled. “He’s out.” Zeb had tracked down two illegitimate brothers; all three of them had been born within five years of each other. Daniel was three years younger than Zeb and half-Korean.

  The other brother he’d found was Carlos Julián Santino—although he now went by CJ Wesley. Unlike Zeb and Daniel, CJ was a rancher. He didn’t seem to have inherited the Beaumont drive for business.

  Two months ago, when the men had all met for the first time over dinner and Zeb had laid out his plan for taking control of the brewery and finally taking what was rightfully theirs, Daniel politely agreed to look at the numbers and weigh the outcomes. But CJ had said he wasn’t interested. Unlike Zeb’s mother, CJ’s mother had married and he’d been adopted by her husband. CJ did not consider Hardwick Beaumont to be his father. He’d made his position clear—he wanted nothing to do with the Beaumonts or the brewery.

  He wanted nothing to do with his brothers.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Daniel
said. “I had hoped...”

  Yeah, Zeb had hoped, too. But he wasn’t going to dwell on his failures. Not when success was within his grasp. “I need you by my side, Daniel. This is our time. I won’t be swept under the rug any longer. We are both Beaumonts. It’s not enough that I’ve taken their company away from them—I need it to do better than it did under them. And that means I need you. This is the dawn of a new era.”

  Daniel chuckled. “You can stop with the hard sell—I’m in. But I get to be the chief marketing officer, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  There was another long pause. “This had better work,” Daniel said in a menacing voice.

  Which made Zeb grin. “It already has.”

  * * *

  It was late afternoon before Zeb was able to get a tour of the facilities. Delores, tablet in hand, alternated between leading the way and falling behind him. Zeb couldn’t tell if she was humoring him or if she really was that intimidated.

  The tour moved slowly because in every department, Zeb stopped and talked with the staff. He was pleased when several managers asked to speak to him privately and then questioned the need to have a résumé for every single person on staff—wouldn’t it be better if they just turned in a report on head count? It was heartening, really. Those managers were willing to risk their necks to protect their people—while they still looked for a way to do what Zeb told them.

  However, Zeb didn’t want to be seen as a weak leader who changed his mind. He allowed the managers to submit a report by the deadline, but he still wanted to see résumés. He informed everyone that the hiring freeze was over but he needed to know what he had before he began to fill the empty cubicles.

  As he’d anticipated after his conversation with Casey, the news that the hiring freeze was over—coupled with the announcement that he would prefer not to see his staff working ten-to twelve-hour days—bought him a considerable amount of goodwill. That was not to say people weren’t still wary—they were—but the overwhelming emotion was relief. It was obvious Casey wasn’t the only one doing the job of two or three people.