Page 19 of Baby For The Bad Boy Billionaire

A low growl escapes my lips.

Before I can vent my frustration, the door to my office opens and Logan's head pops in. His smirk and the twinkle in his eyes make me want to throw my stapler at him. But I maintain my composure, refusing to let him see how much he's getting to me.

"How's your day going?" he asks, his voice dripping with self-satisfied smugness. His satisfaction with himself is unbearable. But I'm not ready to show him that he's won, yet again.

"Absolutely splendid." I plaster a fake smile on my face. "Couldn't be better. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." I spin my chair, hoping to dismiss him but his following words freeze me in my place.

"Come on, Bailey. You're fooling no one with that poker face. Admit it, you're impressed." His confidence is as irritating as it is attractive and I hate myself for it.

"In your dreams, Logan." I spin back to face him. "And for your information, your analysis was only okay."

"Only okay? Now, you're being hasty." He leans against the door frame.

My eyes flicker over the snug fit of his shirt, accentuating his muscled torso. I avert my gaze, my cheeks heating up.

The silence stretches, a tug-of-war of wills, before he breaks it.

"You know what, Bailey? I really think you could use a little fun in your life. How about dinner with me tonight?"

My eyes snap to his, disbelief swirling within me.

This man!

But to my dismay, a tiny part of me imagines what it would be like to be out, alone, with him. His unwarranted charm, his infuriatingly sexy smirk, those eyes...

No, Bailey. This is Logan we're talking about.

It's all just a game to him.

"Absolutely not." I find the iciest tone I can manage.

I see him pull back. He's not used to rejection. Good. Let him stew on that.

"Now, if you'll kindly remove yourself from my office, I have actual work to do," I say, hoping my voice and expression don't betray the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions his absurd proposal has sparked.

"Are you sure?" he asks, running a hand through his hair.

Stop being so attractive.

"Absolutely," I say, putting on my most professional smile. "Now, if you don't mind." I look at the door.

He lingers for a moment, before turning to leave. As the door closes behind him, I let out a sigh.

He has a lot of nerve, asking me out like that.

But deep down, a small part of me can't deny the flutter of excitement his proposition caused.

6

LOGAN

The scent of stale beer and greasy food hits my nose as I walk into the dive bar—a hidden gem in the city. Steven, my childhood best friend, is already here, perched on the usual bar stool at the far end, nursing his whiskey. Spotting me, he raises his glass in a silent toast. I return the gesture, swiping a bar stool and sinking into its worn leather.

"Well, the old man's hanging up his gloves, Steve." I grab the glass of whiskey that he has waiting for me and swirl the amber liquid. "He's throwing me into the deep end of the pool."

Steven chuckles, raking a hand through his hair. "Sounds like a classic Atwood move to me. He's making you work for your millions now, huh?"

I snort, taking a swig. "You'd think it was that fuckin' simple. But no, not my dad. He went and bought out my last job, to make sure I'd stick around."

---