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Stick to the timeline. You're still the nanny. I'm still the boss. Or at least that had been the plan. But then he saw the way his male executives were staring at Tilly like she was the pièce de résistance of a ten-course meal, and Logan thought, Fuck the timeline.
Since the billionaire had made no efforts to silence Tilly's cries of pleasure earlier, and Tilly herself hadn't been the type of lover to just lie back and think of England, he had no doubt that every employee working on his floor knew what took place the moment the door to his office closed behind Tilly.
That such a thing happened in the first place had probably come as a shock, considering Logan's rather notorious rule about not letting any of his former mistresses step foot inside any of his company offices. It was fairly easy to see that his employees were itching to find out what made Tilly different, and it was just as obvious that they were wondering if the very nature of her employment had anything to do with Tilly being the exception to the rule.
Was she the nanny before she became the boss' lover, or was it the other way around?
What did the billionaire see in her that they didn't - or was she simply that good in bed?
How long was the billionaire likely to keep her - and might they have a shot once she was single again?
Logan's entire vision was fast turning a murderous shade of red. Over my fucking dead body, assholes.
Tilly almost lost her footing when the billionaire suddenly slipped a possessive arm around her waist as they headed down the elevator at the end of the hallway.
Logan saw Tilly's startled look and tried not to look defensive as he shrugged in response, saying offhandedly, "I didn't want anyone to notice."
Tilly blinked. "Notice what?"
"That you don't have—-"
Realizing what he was about to say, Tilly simply acted without thinking, nearly stumbling in her haste to tiptoe and cup her hand over his mouth. Oh my God, what was he thinking, declaring the state of her underwear (or lack thereof) out loud like that?
Her horrified gaze flew up to his, and that was when she saw the sexy little smirk playing on the blatantly sensual lines of his lips.
Tilly choked back a laugh, realizing he had been pulling her leg.
"You jer—-" And then she remembered where they were, and she hastily backtracked. "You just say, um, the most embarrassingly sweet words, Mr. Hardwall."
Amused approval gleamed in his eyes even as he reached to gently pull her hand down. "Interestingly enough," the billionaire drawled, "an embarrassment is also what you might be suffering from if this isn't remedied." His other hand lazily drifted over her back as he spoke, settling down a moment later just a few inches over the hem of her dress. The hem, which had sneakily crept up when she tiptoed and was now dangerously close to flashing her butt in front of the dozens of executives making up Hardwall Industries' highest management tier.
OH MY GOD!
The billionaire chuckled softly at the flare of panic in her eyes. "Relax, babe. I've got you." His hand subtly smoothed the dress down at the same time Tilly slowly and carefully rocked back to her heels, and she nearly slumped in relief when the moment of danger finally passed without her butt suffering any visual casualties.
"Thank God that's over," she told him feelingly as they resumed walking,
"And?"
Huh?
"I'm still waiting," she heard the billionaire murmur languidly, and Tilly shot him a bewildered glance. Waiting for what?
A saintly smile unfolded over his lips, making him appear boyishly good-looking for an instance.
But then he said—-
"For you to grovel in gratitude, of course."
A choked laugh escaped Tilly even as she came to appreciate the undeniable truth behind the most common of proverbs. Leopards could never change their spots, devils could never hide their horns, and such was the case with Logan Hardwall, who, despite what his utterly urbane appearance implied, could never be trusted to play the gentleman.
"Just to be clear—-" Tilly waited until they were inside the elevator before turning to the billionaire with lips prudishly pursed in feigned censure. "I'm holding you completely accountable over what happened. If you hadn't threatened to speak about certain unmentionables—-"
Logan smirked. Unmentionables? Hadn't that term been retired a couple centuries ago already?
"There wouldn't have been any risk of exposure in the first place, and so to answer your question—-"
"I didn't actually ask anything," the billionaire pointed out.
She ignored that, saying, "No, Mr. Hardwall. I am not going to thank you."
"Because of what I did earlier?"
"Yes."
"Which you considered something only a jerk would do."
"Your words," she said primly, "not mine."
"But it's essentially what you're saying."
Her shoulders moved in a delicate shrug.
"Since you already think I'm a jerk," the billionaire drawled, "then I might as well act like it, don't you think?"
Tilly was bewildered at first, unsure of his meaning, but when the billionaire actually bent down to reach for the hem of her dress, and she realized he was threatening to flip it up -—she let out an incoherent sound, something between gasping, laughing, and squeaking.
Logan Hardwall really was a jerk, but God, he could be so cute about it!
"I give up! I give up!" Tears of laughter burned her eyes as she found herself actually swatting his hand away and stepping back to prevent him from reaching for her skirt again. "You have my undying thanks, o Great and Generous One. Happy now?"
In answer, the billionaire had the gall to look contemplative, like he was seriously considering having Tilly go down on her knees as well. Outrageous, incorrigible man. But rather than feeling furious or offended, she was painfully conscious of how this rare glimpse of the billionaire playing a roguishly charming knave had her helplessly entranced.
Everything she read about Logan Hardwall had painted him as this courteous but intensely private man who liked to keep everyone at a distance.
He was supposed to be all about the money, and even her newfound friends had warned her of the same things. Cold. Aloof. Someone who thinks his wife must be an asset to his business. Or, in this case, the kind of man who saw nothing wrong in buying himself a mail-order bride who was desperate enough to be at his beck and call.
And then there was the thing Harry wrote to her about Logan. I think he has the saddest eyes, so perhaps...you're the one to make him smile?
And yet, things had somehow ended up the other way around. In the few times Tilly had been able to spend time in his company, it was Logan himself who kept making her laugh, alternating as he did between his dry sense of humor and a bluntly acerbic talent for banter.
When they were together...
He never seemed sad, Tilly realized, stunned. Irritated. Stunned. Chagrined. Aroused. The list went on and on, but not once had he appeared sad.
Logan caught sight of the odd glance Tilly threw his way as the elevator doors opened, and she stepped out after him. "What is it?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
Like hell that was true, Logan thought. When those words were spoken, there was always a catch. It was a fact of life, and smarter men had simply learned to be on guard every time a woman would say nothing was wrong.
With Tilly seated opposite the billionaire inside the limousine, she made sure to keep her legs together, not wanting to accidentally reveal even the tiniest flash of her private parts.
Classic example of locking the barn after the horse had bolted, she couldn't help thinking with a wince. But even so. Memories of how he had so expertly pleasured her (and pleasured himself while doing so) were now as surreal as they were vivid, and it seemed even more of an illusion now, with the billionaire taking a call on his mobile phone...in what sounded like Dutch?
He was just so completely out of her league, she thought forlornly, that she literally felt obnoxious for merely considering the idea she could be different from all the other women.
But...
But...
But...
What about what Harry had said?
He had never appeared sad to her, not even the tiniest bit.
And it all boiled down to why that was so, Tilly realized.
If she had been the hopelessly romantic type, she might have thought this meant he was falling in love with her. But since she was not, and she had always considered herself as an optimistic realist...
Maybe it was something else...like lust?
Tilly nearly jerked in her seat at the thought.
Could that be why the billionaire insisted on keeping her as his wife, even if he could afford to pick one a thousand times more suitable?
She tried to imagine how things would turn out if she asked him outright about this and had no trouble conjuring the outcome: an automatic denial, regardless of whether it was true or not, because any kind of attachment was to be considered a weakness.
And she couldn't exactly blame him for thinking that way, considering how his parents' marriage had ended in a tragic mix of infidelity and death.
The only way to get the truth out of him was to catch him off guard, Tilly concluded with a silent gulp. She had to create some kind of scenario or situation, something that would force him to betray himself—-
A mad rush of adrenaline, brought about by a combination of anxiety and stubborn determination, had Tilly throwing caution to the wind.
Carpe diem, Wakefield!
And so the moment the billionaire finished his call and turned to her, she didn't even let herself think. She simply acted, her legs opening wide under her dress, wider and wider that she was sure the billionaire could see all the way to her deeply mortified soul.
"What the—-"
The billionaire audibly sucked in his breath.
And that was when she saw it.
The instant flare of hunger in his eyes. The sudden stiffening of his powerfully muscular body. And most of all, the immediate, unmistakable bulge under his pants.
OH MY GOD.
The unthinkable was real. By some strange design of fate or the divine, or maybe it was even both, considering how incredible it was that Logan Hardwall, SAFE's last billionaire bachelor and the man whom every cowgirl wanted to lasso into marriage - oh, how could this be?
How could such a man like him be sexually obsessed with a girl like her?
But on the other hand...
She had never been the type to look at a gift horse in the mouth, so why start now?