“No, blockhead, we called to give you advice. Mom told us you’d managed to break away from building your empire long enough to catch some poor misguided woman’s attention. It’s been so damn long since you’ve romanced anything except your right hand, we figured you might have some questions, or need some pointers on how to go about convincing this Sophie girl to take a chance on you.”
Fuckers, he thought, well aware he was battling a grin. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Yeah, she’ll be the judge of that,” Michael joked. “Sure you still know what goes where and why?”
“I know you can kiss my ass,” he responded in a perfectly pleasant voice.
Michael and Trevor responded loudly with rude kissing noises, which promptly provoked a high-pitched wail from somewhere nearby.
“Damn it. You have to keep your big bullhorn of a voice down when the baby’s sleeping, idiot.”
“Me? That one’s on you, Mommie Dearest.”
“Fuck you, Uncle Mikey.” Trevor’s insult grew faint and Logan pictured him holding Max and doing the patented walk-bounce around the kitchen.
“That’s no way for Mommy to talk.”
“Sounds like you’re having a little babysitting crisis over there. I’ll say bye. Give Max a hug for me.”
“Not so fast,” Trevor’s voice came back on the line at full volume, which told Logan he’d picked up the phone. “This girl…Sophie…Mom got the impression you’re into her. Is that true?”
Jesus, his Mom had some kind sixth sense. All he’d said was he’d taken her climbing. “She’s fun. We’re having fun, but we’re not planning—”
“I didn’t ask what you’re planning. I asked if you’re into her.”
He intended to make a joke, but what came out instead was, “Yeah. I am.”
“Okay, then do yourself a favor and stop spending eighty hours a week on Defy Gravity. Put some time into this relationship, so she knows she rates with you. Otherwise, it might not be easy for her to see that you care about much outside of your company.”
The advice, sharply delivered, carried an uncomfortable undertone truth. “Is that what you guys think? You don’t rate with me?”
“We know we rate with you, and we know you’re working hard, which is why Mom doesn’t take offense when she calls you more than once, leaves messages, and doesn’t get a call back. I don’t take offense that you’re only a two-hour flight from L.A. and you haven’t come in to meet your nephew. Michael’s not offended by the fact you’ve met Chloe exactly once—at their wedding. We know how you really feel, so we don’t take it personally when your actions suggest you’ve put work ahead of your friends and family. But Sophie probably doesn’t know you as well as we do. She might not see past your behavior to your actual feelings.”
A brick of shame slammed into his chest. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not trying to make you sorry. I’m trying to make you see what your priorities look like to someone who doesn’t know better.”
“I see your point, and I appreciate the tough love. I guess I have some thinking to do.” He looked at his watch and winced. “Later. This minute though, I’ve got to go.”
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You’ve got a conference call,” Trevor said before the line went dead.
Twenty minutes later, with his board call showing no signs of winding down, he opened his door to let Sophie in. She looked positively edible in her body-hugging dress and shiny black heels. Hoping to wrap up the call, he said, “Gentlemen, we’ve discussed the agreement. If there are no questions, can we put it to a vote?”
The chairman of the board droned on about increases in the acquisition costs and requested they walk through the ROI one more time. Logan stifled the urge to say, “Walk through it all you want. Call me when you’re ready to pull the freaking trigger on this deal.” Instead he mouthed, “Ten minutes?” to Sophie and gave her his best I’m sorry smile.
She waved off his apology, reached into her purse and pulled out an e-reader and a bottle of Cab.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and because he knew she wasn’t prone to accept compliments gracefully, he underscored it with a kiss while Peter commenced an explanation of the revised financial model. When he made a move to untie the bow at her waist, she shooed his hands away and pushed him toward the desk. He sat, barely listening to the detailed breakdown of the financials for the deal, which he knew by heart. His attention lingered on Sophie as she moved about the room, bending low to get the corkscrew from the minibar, rising up on her tiptoes as she pulled the cork from the bottle. She poured two glasses of wine, handed him one, and then settled on the bed with her wine and her Kindle. Within a few minutes, she was engrossed in her story. His mind wandered from his call while he appreciated the gleam of the lamplight in her hair and the shadows slanting down the front of her dress. When she shifted position, his attention zoomed to the smooth expanse of thigh revealed by the split in her skirt and an intriguing flash of purple he caught just before she recrossed her legs.
The conversation on the other end of the phone stopped, and he realized they were waiting for him to speak. “Um, thanks Peter, for the rundown on the financial picture. Are there any other questions, or can we—”
“I have a question,” the chairman of the compensation committee chimed in. “I’d like a better understanding of the change-in-control provisions in key executive contracts for the target.”
Oh, God, he was going to be on this call all night. Didn’t these men read any of the information sent to them in advance of this meeting? The senior partner from the outside counsel they’d retained to work the acquisition fielded the question, thus ensuring another hefty billing cycle for her firm. Over on the bed, Sophie looked up at him. Something in her expression had his dick surging behind the zipper of his black dress pants in less time than it took the outside counsel to say, “golden handcuffs.” What the hell was she reading?
Sophie put her Kindle in the nightstand drawer, got up, and walked over until she stood in front of him. A condom landed on the desk seconds before she pulled the tie at her waist and unwrapped her dress to reveal her traffic-stopping body in skimpy purple silk. His mouth went dry and his brain blanked. “Holy shit.”
“Sorry, Logan, did you say something?” the outside counsel asked.
“No. Nothing. Keep going.”
Sophie shrugged out of her dress and knelt in front of him. She reached behind her and unfastened the sleek purple bra. Let it slide down her arms, and then straightened and fluttered her fingertips over her stiff nipples.
His eyes drifted shut, but flew open when those nimble fingers went to work on his belt buckle. He swallowed. When she unzipped his pants, reached in, and fondled him, his hand covered hers, and he didn’t quite succeed in stifling his groan.
“I know,” outside counsel commiserated. “Negotiations were delicate. Some situations require a light touch. Don’t you agree, Logan?”
Boy, did he. Sophie’s light touch was driving him out of his mind. “Absolutely.” The word faded on him when she freed his cock from his boxer briefs, leaned in, and dragged one nipple over his tip. “I’m…in complete agreement.” Jesus.
Her lips followed, and her hand burrowed into his pants to hold his twitching dick still so she could do as she pleased with him. He nearly wept.
“Anyway,” the attorney went on, “we just kept massaging the deal until everyone felt good about it.”
“Do you feel good about it, Logan?” one of the board members asked.
Sophie sucked him in deep. “Oh, God, yes. So good.”
“Excellent. I have to say, you sound very passionate about the whole thing.”
“Some mergers are all win,” he muttered as Sophie swirled her tongue over his throbbing head one last time and then stood and shimmied out of her tiny purple panties.
The board gave a general murmur of agreement and then the outside counsel moved on to the next clause of the contract. Sophie rolle
d the condom down his shaft. He bit his lip to keep from groaning. Then she straddled him. Slim fingers circled the base of his cock, and she slowly lowered herself onto his lap.
“We approached this next phase of the proceedings very meticulously,” outside counsel stated. “We didn’t rush things. We took our time and did them right.”
“Yes,” Logan blurted. “Hell, yes.” He clamped his hands under her ass and helped her glide up and down his shaft. A little bit faster. A little bit deeper.
“But we didn’t hesitate to play hardball when we had to, did we, Logan.”
Heat flared everywhere she touched him. “N-no. Sometimes you’ve gotta play hardball.”
Her inner muscles clenched and released around him. The heat centered in his balls and burned up his shaft, coaxed along by the pull of her body.