Tate glared stubbornly at the blond, “I don’t need to read it. I disagree. She’s just being spiteful.”

“She is sitting right here.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Tate replied caustically. I am so sick of this shit. It’s not my job to listen to her petty crap anymore.

At his comment, Tate heard a sound from the far corner that he could have sworn was a laugh, but in the end, it was disguised as a cough.

“You’re such an ass, Tate.”

Tate shrugged. “Well, good thing you found a replacement for me then, huh?”

That seemed to be her breaking point.

Placing her perfectly manicured hands on the table, she pushed up from her chair and looked at her lawyer, who stood slowly beside her, dwarfing her by several inches. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this anymore, do I?”

Tate watched Mr. Madison button his suit jacket as he shook his head.

“No, we can contact you if we need anything else. Have a good day, Mrs. Morrison.”

Diana swung her gaze to Tate’s and sneered at him. “I’m going back to Ms. Cline now.”

Tate uncrossed his arms and showed his palms. “Oh stop, you’re hurting my feelings.”

She aimed daggers his way before turning on her heel, marching around the table, and heading straight out the door, slamming it behind her. The noise didn’t even bother Tate. He’d become used to slamming doors a long time ago.

“Well, that went well,” Mr. Madison announced.

Tate looked to his silent lawyer, wondering what exactly he was paying him for. He was about to stand and leave the suffocating room, when a person clearing their throat had him turning his head. Tate felt his mouth fall open as the second lawyer finally stood, and he was face-to-face with Logan.

* * *

Logan had been trying to decide at what point it would have been smart to announce his presence, but really, there hadn’t been one. Had there? Except now, as he stood, staring across the silent and volatile space shared by all four men, he knew that he probably should have said something sooner.

Tate’s lawyer was oblivious to everything that was going on as he removed his glasses and threw them into his briefcase. Logan wondered where the hell Tate had found the guy, as Cole turned in Logan’s direction and his eyebrows rose as if to say, what now?

Yeah, well, I’d love to answer you brother, but I have no clue.

That was quickly cleared up though.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Tate stood and slammed his hands onto the conference table, much like his ex just had.

Cole had the good sense to look uncomfortable as he glanced back at Logan, searching for an answer.

Tate’s lawyer looked up and connected gazes with Logan. Then, he told his livid client as calmly as he could, “Oh, this is Mr. Mitchell. He’s Mr. Madison’s partner. They own the practice. He sat in because Mr. Madison is going to be out of town. It’s just a small technicality. Nothing to be upset over.”

Somehow, Logan didn’t think that was going to cut it, and from the death stare Tate was aiming his way, he knew this was far from over.

Tate muttered, “Unfuckingbelievable.”

That was when Cole jumped in. “Um, Mr. Branson? Can you please come with me? I have a few things I need you to sign, and it might give your client a moment to calm down.”

Wrong thing to say, Cole.

Tate turned his furious look onto his brother. Cole wasn’t worried though. In fact, he looked as though he was trying to control a laugh as he made his way around the table toward the door.

“Of course, of course.” Mr. Branson picked up his briefcase and followed Cole out of the room.

For the first time, the conference room felt tiny.

As the door firmly shut behind the two men, Logan took his time as he moved cautiously toward the opposite side of the table.

“Did you know all this time? Did you know who I was?” was the first accusation thrown at him.

Logan pushed his jacket aside and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he took a moment to really look at the enraged man across from him. Tate was dressed in faded jeans and a blue T-shirt under his leather jacket. The guy looked totally fuckable.

“No. I had no clue until you walked in the room today.”

Logan observed closely as Tate raised a hand to run it through his hair—a gesture Logan was now realizing came from nerves or agitation. He felt the need to once again reassure.

Making his way carefully around the table until he was standing with only several chairs between them, Logan reiterated, “I didn’t know who you were, I swear. By the time you were in the room, it was too late for me to get up and leave without making you lose your focus.”

Tate’s head snapped toward him, and Logan met his glare head-on.

“Oh, how nice of you, Logan.”

Logan didn’t know why, but he loved the way his name rolled off that pissed-off tongue.

“I can be nice.”

Tate scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure you can be—when you want to get laid.”

“Well, that, I won’t deny, but even then, I’m not always nice.”

“I can imagine.”

Oh, that comment is too good to leave as is, so of course, Logan pushed, “Can you?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Tate was quick to clarify. “Don’t fucking start with me.”

Logan stepped closer and felt his need to reassure disappear as it turned into an altogether different kind of need. “Don’t start, what?”

Tate shifted his entire body to face him. “Your usual shit.”

Logan felt his lips twitch as Tate—for the first time and without even realizing it—voluntarily looked him over. He stood as still as he could, enjoying the feel of Tate’s focus on him, and when they finally came back and met his, Logan raised a brow.

“And?”

“And what?” Tate snapped. “Nothing.”

Logan took one more step until only one chair was between them. “You really are pigheaded, aren’t you Tate?”

“Excuse me?”

Moving the final step forward, to where Tate was standing, so he either had to hold ground or back up, Logan was happy when Tate chose to stay where he was.

“Why are you so irate right now?” Logan asked bluntly.

“Why do you think? I just found out that you’re working for my ex.”

Narrowing his eyes on the dark ones searching his, Logan countered, “And why would that piss you off?”

“Because—”

“Because isn’t a good reason and never an acceptable one to a lawyer.”

Logan watched Tate’s tongue come out and lick his bottom lip, and he knew—

This is it.

He just needed to do it or walk away. Tate was either going to hit him or—

Without another thought, Logan reached out and clasped the back of Tate’s neck and tugged him forward.

* * *

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tate had known it was coming, but as he watched Logan reach for him, he did absolutely nothing to stop it.

As Logan’s large hand cupped the back of his neck and firmly pulled him forward, Tate placed his palms on the solid chest now intimately pressed up against his own. Almost as though it were in slow motion, Tate watched Logan’s focus drop to his mouth before he tilted his head and finally crushed his lips against his own.

At first, Tate remained frozen, his hands against the smooth fabric of the jacket until he realized exactly what, was happening. That was when he curled his fingers into the lapels and shoved Logan from him, but kept a hold of the jacket. Breathing hard, he felt Logan tense, as he seemed to brace himself.

Tate ran his eyes over Logan’s neutral expression, and he finally focused on the heated blue that was cautiously staring back at him, waiting.

This is the moment, Tate thought. This is the moment you punch him and tell him to fuck off.

As he clenched his fists around the material, he slowly released his left hand, determined to do just that. But as Tate raised his arm, he saw Logan’s attention shift to his fist, and Tate was shocked to find himself reaching forward to take the back of Logan’s neck instead. Before he knew what he was doing, Tate yanked Logan in and pressed his lips back against the hard ones that had apparently tempted him beyond his sanity.

All of a sudden, Logan’s large body moved into action as he walked them backward in the room until a wall was against Tate’s back with a hard, solid man against his front.

Holy shit. Is this hot as fuck kiss, really happening? was screaming through Tate’s head.

Logan’s palms came up to brush over the stubble lining his cheeks. Then, before he could fully register everything, those same hands slid into his hair and tightened.

Tate was telling himself, pull the hell away, from the insistent press of firm lips and the muscled body grinding against his own when he felt the sharp sting of teeth bite down into his bottom lip, hard. Jerking his head back, he grunted as he hit it against the wall.

“Jesus, you bit me,” he accused as if that was the only thing he should mention at this point in time.

It was best not to focus on how disconcerting it was to have his ass and back pressed against a wall by someone taller, and slightly bigger than himself. Not to mention, the someone in question was looking him directly in the eye and not giving him an inch to, perhaps, escape. But that was exactly where Tate was as Logan licked his own lips and grinned shamelessly back at him.