The Billionaires: The Bosses (Lover's Triangle 2)

“I’ll be kind enough not to mention it to him. Now, what time am I coming over?”

Phillip consulted his Rolex, a recent birthday gift from Colin. “Seven. That will give us sufficient time to get the smell of burnt Chicken Kiev from the apartment.”

“Appetizing, Phillip.” She crinkled her nose. “Really.”

“Be forewarned. You’ve only sampled Colin’s staples on picnics, like fish-and-chips. When he actually tries something new, it can be quite horrifying.”

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine. What shall I bring this evening?”

“That gorgeous smile of yours, love. And that’s all.” He gave her a stern look. “I’m serious, Bay.”

She hedged. It was hardly polite to show up empty-handed, the only reason she typically turned down in-home dinner invitations. But this was Phillip and Colin. They knew she was a struggling model.

Bayli also remembered she had a nice bottle of merlot her agent had given her upon her first assignment. She would gift it to Phillip and Colin this evening.

That decided, she told Phillip she’d be there at seven and then she hefted her stack of books in her arms again and headed out of his office. She made her way through the library and to the front doors. She juggled the hardbacks as she reached for the handle on one door and pushed it open. Though it didn’t take any effort on her part, because someone on the other side jerked the tall wooden-and-stained-glass door open, pulling her along for the ride.

Bayli stumbled forward, her books went flying, and then she fell into a strong embrace, her body slamming against a hard and hunky one.

“Ooof!” she cried out at the solid impact. She would have bounced off the brick wall of a chest if two strong hands hadn’t immediately gripped her biceps to hold her steady.

“Holy shit!” a familiar voice roared.

Her head snapped back and Bayli stared up at chiseled facial features, dark-chocolate eyes, and disheveled bronze hair.

Her jaw fell slack for all of two seconds. Then she said on an unchecked outburst, “My books!”

She wriggled out of Rory’s embrace—only finding the self-control to do so because her beloved hardbacks were scattered on the steps. Good Lord, he was a mountain of muscles and rigidity. And one sturdy-ass pillar of a man.

Bayli sank to her knees to scoop up the pile. He knelt beside her to help.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I’m here to see you,” he retorted in his gruff tone.

Bayli took the books from him and hugged them to her chest. “Christian sent you?”

“No.” He stood in one fluid move and offered his hand. She resisted the urge to sigh.

This again.

Her palm slipped into his and she felt the same high-voltage spark as last time, outside his kitchen. She got to her feet and was determined to rip her hand from his, just like last time. But Rory St. James was having none of it. He held fast to his grip on her. Not hurting her in any way, but his clasp on her hand left no doubt that he wasn’t going to let her make a hasty retreat.

That wasn’t exactly on her mind. Though, damn, it’d be nice if just once she could be prepared for a run-in with him. Because he always caught her off-guard. And that was nerve-wracking as hell.

Especially when she eyed him, looking devastatingly handsome, dressed all in black. He wore jeans and boots. A vee-necked T-shirt and sleek leather jacket. Rory wasn’t the GQ variety that Christian was. The chef was fashionable, no question there, but he had a more reserved style that complemented, not overpowered, his intense demeanor. He was edgy and sexy, and Bayli was drawn to him as fervently as she was to his business partner.

Not exactly wise, she knew. But then again … human beings possessed feral instincts, whether it was in their best interests or not to act on them.

Rory said, “I thought we should talk about Christian’s plans. Why don’t you let me cook you an early dinner this evening?”

His offer took her by surprise. But she had a feeling it’d be a good idea to wait and hear from her agent tomorrow after Christian spoke with her before she got too caught up in this new world—and Rory St. James.

So she wrenched her hand from his and told him, “I have a previous engagement, thank you anyway.”

Rory’s squared jaw clenched briefly. As though she tried his patience. Probably a true assessment.

He asked, “Any chance you can take a rain check? It’s kind of important.”