Page 66 of Hard Limits

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Bring Alexa in.”

Two minutes later, there she was. A pit bull in a chihuahua’s body, followed by Chase and a man who had to be either a lawyer or an accountant. He had a briefcase and a sharp, pedantic look about him. Curiosity got the better of Brax, and he scanned Alexa from top to toe, taking in the sun-bleached blonde hair piled on top of her head, the golden tan, the designer sportswear, and the imperious attitude.

“You look well,” he said.

She snorted. “You look like shit. I realise money doesn’t buy happiness, but apparently it doesn’t buy razors either.”

“Women find a two-day beard attractive, or so I’ve been told.”

“How about the eyebags? You need to use some of that bee-venom gloop Carissa spends three hundred bucks on.”

Chase set the three laptops he was carrying in a neat line on Brax’s desk, then pulled up a chair, presumably for Alexa. Damn, his brain hurt. Meera hadn’t even brought the coffee yet.

“Alexa, what are you doing here?”

“Saving your stupid ass from your dumb impatience. I need coffee.”

“Coffee’s on its way, and that isn’t a proper answer. Who is this gentleman?” Brax waved a hand at the lawyer-slash-accountant.

“Don. Where’s your printer?”

“Next door, in Meera’s office.”

“Aw, you have adjoining rooms? That’s so cute.”

Alexa had two of the three laptops open now, bulky things built for power rather than aesthetics. Don slid his own computer out of the briefcase and looked around.

“We’ll need more chairs,” he said.

Meera picked that moment to walk in with a tray, and she stared at the desk, no doubt wondering where the hell she was meant to put the drinks. Brax shoved his own laptop into a drawer, cursing Alexa under his breath. Didn’t she realise he had enough on his plate today without a cosy reunion?

“Can you find more chairs?” Don asked Meera.

“How many chairs?”

“Three.”

“Uh, okay.” She looked to Brax, questioning, but all he could do was shrug.

“Is there any popcorn?” Alexa wanted to know. “Today’s a popcorn day. And bring water for Brax and his hangover.”

“We have cookies. Or I could go out and—”

For crying out loud. “The cookies are fine.”

“Are they the good kind with chocolate on them?” Alexa asked.

Meera gave a shaky smile. “There are amaretti, chocolate chip, and shortbread. Oh, and I picked up some macarons from the patisserie yesterday.”

Alexa pointed at her. “She’s a keeper.”

Tell Brax something he didn’t already know.

Ten minutes later, they had chairs and cookies, and his desk looked like the love child of corporate America and a stick of dynamite. Meera had run for her life, and Chase was lying on the couch, reading a paperback.

“Alexa, what the fuck is going on?”

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