Excerpt of Beefcake & Mistakes by Judi Fennell

He had a son.

Bryan Lassiter stood at the end of the grocery store aisle and stared at the little boy three feet in front of him.

The curly black hair was the same, including the identical cowlick above the right eye that drooped a little lower than the left, and the same dimple in his right cheek. The eyes, too, were the same. Those damned, cursed violet eyes that Bryan had hated ever since Julie Richardson had called them pretty in first grade. Him and Elizabeth Taylor.

And now this boy.

And if those weren't enough, it was the birthmark on the kid's arm that sealed the deal. Bry had the same one, shaped like a five–pointed star with a rounded tip on the bottom right spoke. Bryan had eventually had a tattoo put on top of it—in the shape of a star—but it was the same.

He had a son.

"Trevor? Where are you?" A pretty brunette rushed around the end cap, worry etched across her face. It softened when she saw the boy—the exact opposite of Bryan's reaction.

He didn't know her.

Oh, he'd slept with a lot of women in his life, but he did pride himself on remembering what they'd looked like, no matter how drunk he'd been—

No. That wasn't entirely true. Brad's bachelor party had passed by in one drunken haze and there could have been a stripper involved...

Considering Brad's party had been four years ago, and the kid looked to be about three or so... Yeah, it looked like it was more than possible, though he'd never been so drunk he hadn't worn a condom.

Which have been known to break.

Hell. Given that the kid looked like every one of his baby pictures, one night of debauchery and bad luck could have led to him having a son.

"Sweetheart, I told you never to run away from Mommy. This isn't the place to play hide–n–seek."

Bryan's eyes flew to "Mommy." About five–six, with curly brown, chin–length hair that she kept tucking behind her ears but which wouldn't stay, high cheekbones, and wide eyes—blue or gray, he couldn't be sure. Graceful movements of a dancer that would be lost in a strip joint, but the legs that went on forever definitely wouldn't be.

Had they been wrapped around him? Bryan felt himself grow hard just thinking about it.

But then he looked at Trevor and his whole body got hard. If that little boy was his, she'd kept him from him.

Did she even know who the father was?

"I sowwy, Mommy." Trevor stuck his thumb in his mouth and Bryan was even more convinced the boy was his.

Lots of kids sucked their thumb, but it was the way Trevor played with his cowlick—just like Bryan had. Until his finger had gotten caught in the tangles and his older brother Kyle had laughed at him. Mom had had to cut his finger free and that spike of hair at the front of his head had been one more thing for Kyle to tease him about. It'd been the last time Bryan had sucked his thumb.

"Yes, well, you scared me, honey. I don't want anyone to take you from me, okay? You have to stay with me." Mommy knelt down and hugged Trevor, the action tugging her figure–hugging tan pants low in the back.

No tramp stamp, so at least he'd had some taste in women when he was drunk. Even strippers.

Bryan shook his head. He of all people shouldn't judge her. He'd done some stripping in his day and now owned an exotic dance revue, BeefCake, Inc. But he and his partner Gage ran a classy business and No Fraternization was the top rule of the house. Too bad she hadn't prescribed to the same rule.

"Why would someone take me, Mommy?" Trevor stopped twirling his hair with a lock swirled around his finger.

Mommy smoothed a ring–less left hand over Trevor's hair, disengaging the tangled finger, then slid her palm down to cup his cheek. "Because you're a very special boy, Trevor. That's why I love you so much. So you need to stay with me at all times and not run away, okay? Even if you're playing."

Trevor nodded and Bryan felt as if he were looking in a mirror. "But why am I vewy special?"

She pulled him against her and kissed his cheek. "Because you're my little guy."

Bryan's vantage point gave him the perfect view of the fierceness of her expression when she said it, the quick tightening of her bicep beneath the short sleeve of her t–shirt as she hugged him. She loved the kid. But obviously not enough to give him the father he deserved.

Bryan had half a mind to tell her that, but supermarket aisles weren't exactly the best place for airing dirty laundry. He checked the time on his cell. An hour and a half until the meeting with Gage.

He slid his sunglasses on and pulled the baseball cap rim lower. He could hang around for a while. Follow her to see where she lived—and then plan when would be the best time to show up and discuss his fatherly rights.

***