Best Man With Benefits (McCade Brothers 3)

“I’m no expert, but I’m fairly certain boozing and gambling are not appropriate activities for a kid Max’s age. I’m calling social services—I think they might be interested in giving you some advice.”

“Speaking of advice, that’s why we called you,” Trevor interjected.

“You called me for advice?”

“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.”