Page 9 of The Bad Boy's Good Girl

Seriously?“What’s got your panties in a twist?” The one thing everyone at B&B Solutions could count on was a cheerful and kind Nola Boudreaux.

Her fingers stopped their movements across the keyboard and she looked up at him, normally soft green eyes were dark with frustration and something he couldn’t quite decipher. “Was there something you needed?”

He blew out along breath instead of reminding the little spitfire exactly who she was talking to. “Yes. You made my assistant cry.”

“And how is that my problem, exactly? The next time she wants credit for something, maybe you should just make her do it. All of it.” Her piece spoken, she turned back to her screen typing faster than he’d ever seen anyone who wasn’t the programmer type. For some reason, her dismissiveness irritated the hell out of him.

“She reported you to HR.”

Nola scoffed. “I’m surprised she was able to find an entire department with no men.”

Someone was in rare form today. “What is your problem?”

Unbelievably, she growled. At him! “Fine, Bronx, you want to yell at me because your assistant is a useless waste of space? Go right ahead,” she taunted, sitting back with her arms crossed and her green eyes blazing fire. She looked beautiful. Goddammit. “Well, let me have it.”

He wouldn’t let big lush breasts deter him from her blatant disrespect. “My office. Now.”

With a huff she pushed her chair back and followed him the short distance to his office. “What is it?”

Bronx didn’t know what came over him. Fuck that, he knew. Nola. She’d been on his mind, stirring his body for months. And ever since Halloween, no one but her would do. “This,” he cupped her face at just the right angle and kissed her. Hard and hot and hungry. She resisted at first before submitting to this thing between them. This uncontrollable fire that remained at a steady simmer until they came within five feet of each other and it raged, turning into a deadly inferno threatening everything in its path. He felt like he’d slayed a dragon when her hands wrapped around his shoulders and her fingers wound through his hair, taking his tongue and sucking it, sending a dagger of desire straight to his cock.

Nola was first to break the kiss, searching his eyes for something that she obviously didn’t see because her shoulders stiffened and she stepped back. “Right. Duly noted.” With a terse nod she brushed past him and right out the door less than five minutes later.

Duly noted?What the fuck did that mean, anyway?

His thoughts were interrupted by Gabriela’s voice. “Mr. Corona, your brother wants to speak to you.”

Seriously? She couldn’t have possibly said anything to Brooks about that kiss. Not so soon. Right? “Okay. Hold my calls until I get back.” He walked the same path and found Nola’s seat empty. His stomach sank as he entered his brother’s spacious, modern office. “Look, I know what you’re going to say Brooks.”

A look of surprise crossed his brother’s face but he quickly blanked it. “You do? Good, then you know why you need Nola with you instead of Gabriela.”

He felt the frown form on his face. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Brooks grinned and dropped his feet on his desk, crossed at the ankles. “The better question is, what are you talking about?”

Nope. He was not doing this with his brother. Not after that kiss that still made his lips tingle. Crossing his arms, he threw a menacing glare at his brother. “I asked you first.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head in amusement. “Your answer sounds more interesting.” Brooks fought the laugh for as long as he could but Bronx could see it was a losing battle and soon they were both laughing. “Fine. I’m talking about the meeting with the General. I’ve just spoken with him for the past hour and you need to take the meeting.”

“What? Why me? You’re the suit, you handle suit shit.”

Brooks shook his head, mirth still shaking his shoulders. “No can do, baby brother,” he grinned at his favorite joke but Bronx refused to remind him it was only ten goddamn minutes. “He needs the nuts and bolts of how the software works, real world applications and all that stuff. That’s all you.”

Bronx scraped a hand over his day-old stubble and nodded. His brother was right. He’d created the software, with the help of several psychologists and anthropologists, that would help interrogators determine the easiest method of extracting information based on every bit of data they could recover on a person. He could geek talk with the best of them and the General would accept nothing but the best. Still, that didn’t answer his other question. “I don’t need to take an assistant with me, old man. I am perfectly capable of making it to meetings on time without a babysitter.”

Clear blue eyes shot him a skeptical look. “Even if you meet another weekly and spend the entire night, ahem, auditioning her?”

“Weekly?” Maybe he had talked to Nola who’d used the same expression on Thanksgiving.

Brooks nodded as though it were no big deal. “Yeah, because none of your women ever last longer than seven days.”

“That’s not true.” It couldn’t be. Could it?

Brooks only laughed, not at all offended by his brother’s harsh tone because he’d grown used to it over the years. “It is and you know it. The question is why are your panties in a bunch over it all of a sudden?”

Bronx opened his mouth to answer but quickly snapped it shut. “None of your business. Now tell me why I need your esteemed assistant instead of my own?”

His brother gave him a look that said he was either mentally disabled or just plain crazy. “Your assistant is useless. She was over here earlier yelling at Nola for not coming back to the office on Thanksgiving when she wouldn’t answer her phone.” Always Nola’s protector, Brooks narrowed his gaze, waiting for a response.

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