Page 30 of Who’s Your Daddy (Dadcoms #1)

Cal

“ G ood morning,” I singsong, carrying Lola’s favorite coffee and her breakfast into the office.

I’m not a complete arse, I’ve got an iced coffee for Amy and one for Brian too. Nothing for Sully, though. My brother would never drink his coffee iced. In his mind, Americans are uncivilized for destroying caffeine in such a way.

Then again, with the way he’s been humming and smiling since Friday night, maybe he’s come around.

“Morning, Boss.” Amy greets me with a bright smile. We had to move her into the conference room as well. It’s less than ideal since I’m eager for a few minutes alone with Lola. Though I suppose that isn’t in the cards anyway, since Lola is nowhere to be seen.

I set the tray on the table along with the bag. “The iced coffee is yours. Sugar and creamer are in the bag. I wasn’t sure how you took it.” I ease the second iced drink from the tray and step back. “I’m going to take this to Brian. If Lola comes back let her know her breakfast has arrived.”

“You are the best boss ever,” Amy coos.

I shoot her a wink, then stroll out of the room. Now that’s a way to start a morning. As I make my way to Brian’s office, I keep an eye out for my girl but she’s nowhere to be found.

Brian is also missing so I leave the iced coffee on a coaster next to his computer.

Once I thoughtfully brought him an iced coffee just like this but set it on the desk itself.

I never heard the end of it. Every time I set foot in his office in the city, he’d glare at the hint of a ring it left behind on the wood, as if reminding me of my error.

I wander back to the conference room, only to find Amy taking a large bite of Lola’s breakfast. Naturally, Lola appears out of thin air at the same moment.

“This is so good,” Amy says, mouth full, her voice garbled.

Lola may be shooting daggers, but she’s as delectable as ever. Her hair is in its usual braid, and her fitted navy skirt glides over her pretty curves just like my hands did on Friday night.

I fist them at my sides to keep from touching her. “Good morning, Lola.” I give her my most winning smile. “I brought you your coffee.”

With a heavy sigh, she offers me the weakest of smiles. “Thanks, Cal.” She plucks her drink from the tray, glaring at Amy, who’s practically moaning over the croissant she’s devouring.

I follow Lola to where she sits at the end of the table, as far from our intern as she can get, and settle my hip against the table, essentially blocking Amy from her view. “Did I tell you I got a fish?”

Head dropped back, she groans. “Why would you get a fish?”

I give her one of my extra cheeky grins. “Because it was time for fins.”

She doesn’t smile back.

“Lola,” I singsong as I grasp her chin.

The moment I make contact with her soft, warm skin, the words I planned to say disappear like vapors.

The tiniest of breaths escapes her, and those pretty green eyes of hers stare up at me like she’s just as entranced with my touch.

I slowly graze her cheek with my thumb, and her lashes flutter shut.

I’m reminded of the way I held her chin as she asked me to teach her how to suck my cock. Fuck, my trousers tighten at the mere thought. At the reminder of the sounds she made as she rolled against me, chasing her own orgasm as she gagged around my dick.

Caught in her orbit, I dip my head, breathing her in. I can practically taste her sweet lips.

“The croissant was good,” Amy says, startling us out of the stupor we’ve fallen into, and Lola jerks back, “but next time can you get me the chocolate one?” Amy’s whiny voice has Lola pulling back from my grasp and her rolling chair hitting the wall. “This one tastes like it’s missing something.”

The look Lola gives me is scalding. It says we ’ re at work and I told you not to touch me at work. Or ever again . But really don ’ t touch me at work.

“That’s because it’s gluten-free,” she growls out.

My lips twitch. Fuck, what I’d do to kiss her right now. It’s clear my girl is hangry, a situation that must be rectified.

“Why would you order it like that, Cal? The gluten is the best part,” Amy muses.

Lola grits her teeth and launches to her feet. “Because it was for me.”

As she stomps out of the room, I try not to laugh. Hangry and horny. A terrible combination.

I’ll have to rectify both.

I follow her out of the office like the smitten man I am. “Lola.”

With a file held tight to her chest she spins, her expression carefully blank. “I’ve got to work, Cal. I don’t have time for games.”

Bollocks, she really is in a mood.

I take a step forward, hand out, certain that I can calm her with a touch.

She arches a brow, shutting me down without a word.

So I shove my hands into the pockets of my trousers, rocking back on my heels, and try a different route. “What’s your favorite restaurant? ”

“Why?”

Chin dipped, I take a risk and lean in a little closer. “Humor me.”

With a shake of her head, she huffs. “Rare on 22nd Street.”

I hum. Excellent choice. But… “Pick something in Jersey.”

Her shoulders sink. “I don’t know. Jersey sucks.”

“Okay, forget that. Tell me what you order at Rare on 22nd.”

My fingers itch to tug at her braid, to ease the ties from it. I want to comb through her soft locks, watch as they fall against her shoulders. To inhale the cinnamon sugary scent I’m addicted to. The combination is so perfect for her. Sweetness and spice. All things sassy and not so nice.

“Filet mignon medium-rare, asparagus, and the freshly baked bread.”

“Bread?” That was the last thing I was expecting.

“It’s gluten-free.” She closes her eyes, and her expression goes dreamy, as if she’s remembering the taste of it. “And it’s delicious.”

“Okay.” I skirt around her, giving in to the temptation, finally tugging on the end of her braid, and breathe in her scent.

“Where are you going?” she calls after me as I head toward Brian’s office again.

I don’t look back as I say, “I’ve got research to do.”

I like leaving her wanting more. I’m always the one staring after her. Chasing her.

It’s only fair she wonder where I’m off to.

Brian hasn’t returned, so I settle in his chair and power on his computer.

When the lock screen blinks at me, I tilt my head. Hmm. What might his password be?

He’s a lonely sod, with no life outside of work.

His sister’s name, maybe?

I type Dylan into the password section and hit return. An error message appears on the screen.

I love New York ? Nope, if that’s anyone’s password, it’s Lola’s.

His niece? I try Willow . Nope. If it’s not her, it’s unlikely his nephew, but I try Liam anyway. Negative .

I sit back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath me. There’s got to be something, someone, in this world that matters enough to become his password.

Eyes closed and fingers steepled, I will the answer to come to me. And like a light flicking on, I get it.

Jessica . BINGO! The ex-girlfriend. The one who got away.

Oh, Brian, you’re so utterly predictable.

Now that I’ve gained access to the computer, I put my genius to work, searching for a restaurant in Jersey that has excellent steak and gluten-free bread.

Half an hour later I return to the conference room where Lola is typing away on her laptop.

She doesn’t even acknowledge me so I amble around the table and lean over her shoulder. “Whatchya doing?” I murmur, my lips a hairsbreadth from her ear.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “Working.”

I press a kiss to her cheek and pull back before she can wallop me. “Go to dinner with me tonight.”

She turns, glaring. “No.” She enunciates the word.

She’s turned me down, not a surprise, but I’m too focused on the way her lips move to be disheartened.

“Please?” I offer her a dazzling smile.

“Cal, we talked about this. This” —she points between the two of us, rolling a few inches away—“can’t happen.”

I stare into her eyes, long and hard, silently begging her to give in. When she doesn’t, I pull back and pivot to plan B. “Fine. Can you do me a favor?”

Brows lowered, she shakes her head. “I have to work.”

“This is work. I need you to set up an appointment for me.”

With a sigh, she picks up a legal pad and pen, ready to jot down my request. “Fine.”

“Fair warning, the person I need to meet with is really difficult and won’t want to come. But I need you to make this happen.”

She rolls her eyes. “Someone doesn’t want to hang out with you? No way.”

“Shhh, Lola, you’ll ruin it,” I warn as I straighten my suit jacket.

With her pen pinched between her fingers, she rubs at her temples. “I’m getting a headache. You ’ re ruining it.”

I chuckle. “Okay, okay. This is what I need: Call Berns Steakhouse and make a reservation for two at eight thirty tonight.”

She documents my request in the same manner she takes dictation. “Eight thirty reservation for two at Berns Steakhouse.” Face lifted to mine, her eyes widen. “Is that right?”

I nod. “Yup. Thank you.”

With a charming grin, I turn on my heel and stride away, letting her wonderful little jealous mind do all the work for me.