Page 41 of Secret Baby for the Bad Boy

“Sure doesn't look like it.” This time concern fills his words, and I push that away, too.

“Looks can be deceiving.” I finally glance at him, meet the intensity of his gaze. And we stay like that, both refusing to look away as we come to an impasse.

“Alright then,” he says with a nod, but even as he retreats, I sense this battle isn’t over. Which is just what I need, more complications as I struggle to complete the tasks at hand.

I exhale, a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I'm back in control, and I need to get back to work, no matter how much Lark clings to the edges of my thoughts.

I go back to the numbers that need taming.

“Almost done,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. And maybe, just maybe, I believe it.

The soft sound of footsteps has me looking up, ready to do battle with Lark again, but this time, it’s not the infuriating man I can’t stop thinking about. It’s Mark with a lifeline of hot caffeine in his hands as he approaches me with warm, brown eyes and a hint of a tired smile I feel to the depths of my bones.

“I thought you could use this,” he says, that familiar, friendly warmth I’ve come to expect from him coloring his tone.

“Thanks, Mark.” The words are automatic as I reach for the coffee, its heat seeping into my fingers. He lingers, looking past me at my screen as if trying to figure out if I’m working or avoiding going home.

“Need any help?” His gaze flicks to mine, concern deepening the slight lines in his forehead. “Shouldn’t you get home? I’m sure you have someone waiting.”

I don’t share my personal life with anyone I work with but Shana, and now Lark.

I feel a twinge of guilt that I’m not home, but I shake it off. “I appreciate it, but this is something I have to do alone.” Polite firmness and a cool distance remind him that I’m the boss and my life isn’t public knowledge or a topic for discussion. I encourage my employees to share with me so I can make sure everyone has days off they need, and everything else that comes with being a boss. But my own life? That’s off-limits.

But Mark stands rooted in place as if I didn’t just politely tell him to go away and let me work.

He doesn't move, his brows knitted as he studies my face as if searching for the truth. He’s going to find it, and when he does, it’ll be clear I’m not looking to be rescued.

Mark inches closer, the warmth of his presence pushing against my personal space. “How about a neck rub? You look tense,” he says, hands hovering in the air like he's ready to land on my shoulders.

I pull back out of reach, a refusal already crossing my lips. “That's not necessary, but thanks for the offer.” I don’t want him to touch me, and I don’t want this incredibly intimate moment to continue another second longer. Maybe he’s not trying to be creepy, but this is getting awkward. I press my fingers to my temple, hoping to convey end-of-day exhaustion instead of discomfort.

He leans in too close, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You always do so much for everyone here. Who's taking care of you?” His words fill my ears, trying to find a place in my heart.

My pulse quickens, not from his question, but from the sudden surge of adrenaline. This is an overstep. I’ve already made it clear I’m not interested, so for him to continue is unacceptable. I'm about to tell him off when another voice fills the room. A deep, unexpected and familiar voice that leaves me relieved.

“Is everything okay here?” Lark asks, an air of authority to the set of his shoulders and the tightness of his features.

I turn, relief flooding my veins. With a silent, grateful thank you to the universe that sent him my direction, I speak up. “Everything's fine, Lark.” I lift my coffee. “Mark thoughtfully brought me coffee and offered help, but he’s going now.”

I catch the faint lift of Lark's eyebrow, the way his eyes lock onto Mark’s. There’s something there, some undercurrent I don’t understand and don’t have the energy or time to devote to figuring out.

Mark's posture straightens, like he’s quickly recalibrating his demeanor. “I’m just trying to be helpful,” he mutters, in Lark’s general direction. But neither Lark nor I miss the defensiveness in his words and movement. He's off-balance, whatever plans he had suddenly turned upside down by the new presence in the room.

Lark crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing just a fraction of an inch. “Oh, he’s leaving now?” The question is directed at me, but it feels like a warning shot across Mark's bow.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Yes. He’s leaving now. I told him I don’t need his help, and I’m pretty sure he was going.” Of course, I know Mark had no intention of accepting no as an answer, but I want to make things very, very clear. And if he doesn’t get it this time, I’ll start looking for his replacement in the morning. Heck, I might do that anyway. I don’t need someone being pushy and trying to take advantage of moments when I’m tired, stressed, and trying to focus.

I want to sound assertive, remind them both that I'm not some damsel. But Lark's intense stare warns me he might not even be hearing me anymore. He’s too intent on Mark.

Mark's eyes dart between Lark and me, as if trying to figure out if there’s more going on than he knows. With a tight nod, he makes the smart choice and retreats. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He spins on his heel and makes a quick, almost urgent escape. Only then can I breathe easier.

Lark seems to read my sense of relief and comes closer, placing his powerful hands on my desk and making those incredible forearms flex. “You sure you’re okay?” Concern softens the hard lines of his face and makes his voice gentle.

I nod, a shiver trailing down my spine at the look in his eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.” My voice is a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner still running full blast. “Thank you for checking on me.”

His gaze doesn't waver. I’d swear he’s searching my face for something more than the words I’m saying, as if he’s not quite sure I’m being completely honest. And maybe I’m not, but I really want to get work done and get home to my comfortable bed. Because it’s been a long day and I’m tired.

But his gaze lingers, holding me captive in the stillness of the office. Then, as if satisfied with what he sees, he relaxes slightly, the protective edge melting away. “Good. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

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