Page 16 of Baby For The Bad Boy Billionaire

His team?

Did he just say his team?

The absolute balls on this man.

I look down at his tight black slacks as that thought flies out of my brain.

Damn it, Bailey.

Not those balls.

His metaphorical balls.

As he continues to engage with everyone, I follow him around, irritated at how easily he's winning them over. It seems as though me and the coffee machine will be the only two things in the office immune to the Logan charm.

"Hey there, Grace," Logan greets the receptionist, holding a tray with a Frappuccino in hand. "I heard you're the gatekeeper around here. Thought you might enjoy a little morning pick-me-up."

Grace, the stone-faced receptionist who barely uses more than two words with me, raises her eyebrows. She takes the Frappuccino and looks at him for a moment, her face unreadable. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely." Logan grins, leaning against her desk with ease. "I mean, holding the fort here is no easy job. Plus, that smile of yours could definitely brighten up anyone's day."

I watch in disbelief as Grace, the woman who never passes a chance to scowl at everyone, giggles.Giggles.

As if that wasn't enough, it's followed by asmile."Thank you, Mr. Atwood... We could use a few more like you around here."

I nearly gag.

Grace, who has never given me more than a tight-lipped nod, is now giggling and blushing at Logan's ridiculous flattery.

Logan winks at Grace.

I roll my eyes.

This is going to be a long day.

"Logan." I intercept him as he is about to hand out what looks like a caramel macchiato to our intern. "Your barista shift seems to be going well, but let's not forget why you're really here... When you're done playing coffee boy, I'll be in my office. You know, work and all that boring stuff."

"Your wish is my command, boss lady."

I roll my eyes again, turning on my heel, and head to my office for a breather. I slam myself down at my desk and throw my hands to my temples.

They're all falling for it.

The fucking nerve of him, showing up like some kind of coffee-bearing Santa Claus on his first day.

And those pants...

Did you see that bulge?

Damn it, Bailey, get a grip.

I mentally berate myself, my cheeks flushing with annoyance.

What on earth are you doing checking out his... his... package?

The word sends a fresh wave of frustration through me.

I glance at my meticulously planned agenda for him, my eyes narrowing.

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