Falling For Her Bad Boy Boss (Island Girls: 3 Sisters In Mauritius)

by Zee Monodee

  Neha, it’s really because it’s you.

  He’d taken a few steps towards the house when a little ball of speed rushed out from beyond the dwelling and barrelled his way. Logan ground his feet to a halt and glanced from the little kid to the tall, dark fulla who appeared a few seconds later near the wall.

  “Grab that brat, will you?” the man yelled.

  Logan didn’t pause to think and lowered his arm to scoop up the anklebiter in one swoop. The kid squealed when he lifted him off the ground.

  The dark man reached them, and he grabbed the little boy and lifted him so the kid dangled at his side under his arm.

  “Cheers, mate,” he said as he addressed Logan, his free hand outstretched.

  The guy had a posh-sounding British accent, and Logan’s instincts rose up in a storm. Upper-crust pom, from blighty, too. Bugger.

  The fulla introduced himself. “Trent Garrison. Neha’s brother-in-law.”

  Logan shook his hand. “Logan Warrington.”

  “Yeah, I know who you are. Who doesn’t?”

  Logan smiled back, a tad embarrassed. He’d never gotten used to the whole fame and face-recognition thing.

  “And this,” Trent said as he nodded towards the toddler still in a scoop under his arm, “is my youngest, Julian. Say hello, Julian.”

  The kid shot Logan a big, toothy grin. “Hello.”

  Logan found himself wanting to reach out and ruffle the child’s unruly dark hair. Instead, he looked up at Trent. “You got any more like this one here?”

  Trent turned towards the house, indicating at the door with a nod as he started to walk. “Three more lads, and thank goodness all three combined don’t measure up to this little bloke’s recklessness.”

  Logan fell in step next to him and stifled a laugh when the kid started to sing while dangling so precariously from his father’s grip. Unless this were nothing unusual for him. He had a feeling that must be the case.

  The two men entered the house. The fragrant aromas of vanilla icing and the more potent smell of Indian spices and frying oil hit his nostrils. A cacophony of sounds came from the kitchen, and Trent placed his hand on Logan’s arm.

  “Whatever you do,” the man said. “Don’t remain in there for more than ten seconds. My wife, her crazy sisters, and their mother are all in the kitchen.”

  “Land of all dangers, eh.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” Trent nodded towards the back of the house. “All of those trying to stay sane are out there. Join us. ASAP.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Welcome to the asylum,” Trent said over his shoulder as he walked away.

  Left alone in the front lobby, Logan breathed in deep to steel his courage. He recognized man-to-man warnings when he encountered any, and Trent’s words had definitely been of that ilk.

  He stopped on the edge of the steps to the kitchen. His latest acquaintance had not exaggerated. Four dark-haired and equally beautiful women stood in the room. The resemblance between them couldn’t be mistaken. From the older woman’s regal air to the youngest girl’s bristling aura of dynamism; Neha’s quiet beauty and the more intense expression of the other woman who looked remarkably like her save for the darker tone of her skin and her skinny frame—something obvious to the naked eye shouted they were family, and that they’d be there for each other through thick and thin.

  That something also told him they were all two sammies short of a picnic, too, exactly like Trent had stated. They all spoke at the same time, Neha the only silent one. She seemed to be suffering through all the mayhem around her.

  “Well, look who’s here,” the young girl said.

  All talk stopped in the kitchen, four pairs of dark eyes turning to him.

  Bugger, it’d make a man want to scamper for cover as fast as possible.

  “And he’s brought you flowers, you lucky girl.” Neha received an elbow poke in the side from the teenager along with the words.

  “G’day, ladies.” He paused. “These are for you, actually.”

  He went down the steps towards Neha.

  Run, now.

  “Thanks,” she said in a soft whisper.

  A touch of colour tinged her cheeks. Though happy to see she’d been pleased by the gesture, some sixth sense screamed at him to barge out of the room as fast as he could.

  “I’ll join the others, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure. They’re—”

  “At the back. I met Trent while coming in, and he showed me the way.”

  She nodded. “All right, then. We should be done here soon.”

  “Smells great, by the way.”

  “Thanks.”

  Stop blubbering like a drongo. “I better go.”

  With these words, he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen.

  As he recovered from the stifling intensity of the scrutiny he’d been subjected to in the room, he caught sight of a … walking pile of books turning towards the stairs?

  With quick steps, he made his way to the strange vision and found it to be a young lad of around ten who carried so many books in his arms, they obliterated his face.

  The boy stopped at the edge of the stairs and gingerly lifted his foot to take a step up. The pile in his arms wobbled.

  “Need a hand?” Logan asked as he joined him.

  The pile of books shifted, and he reached out just quick enough to grab the top three sliding off the tower.

  He peeked at the titles and stood there flummoxed. Italian Renaissance, French Middle Age law treaty, and Iron Age England. Books fit for a university library, not the hands of a kid who looked small enough he’d break in two if someone hugged him too hard.

  “You must be Rishi,” Logan stated.

  The boy rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Despite the resemblance with Neha, he knew who the kid made him think of; that young wizard from the books and movies. What was his name? Harry Potter.

  “And you’re Logan. Kunal’s mentor.”

  Rishi put a hard stress on the word ‘mentor,’ which piqued Logan’s curiosity. “Yeah, I coach him some.”

  The boy shrugged, then he turned and started up the stairs.

  Logan went after him and clasped his shoulder when they reached the first landing. “Hey, you forgot these.”

  He handed the three books with him over.

  “Thanks,” Rishi said. “Can you place them on top of the pile?”

  “And end up with you not seeing where you’re going? I don’t think so, mate.”

  Rishi gave a loud huff and continued up the stairs. “Come on up, then.”

  Logan followed, all the way into a room resembling a library. A sanctuary sounds more like it. Where the insight came from, he didn’t know, but he nevertheless paused and studied the room and its occupant.

  Kunal and Suzanne both called their younger brother ‘the bookworm.’ Logan would risk a bet that the kid didn’t have many friends, and many didn’t really bother to get to know him, either.

  Could he change this?

  Why do you care?

  ’Cause he’s nothing but a kid, he shot back to the niggling voice in his head. He glanced around the room and noticed a huge, tattered omnibus copy of The Lord of the Rings. Crossing over to the bedside table, he indicated towards the book with a nod. “May I?”

  Rishi gave him a narrowed glance. “Why?”

  “I assume you’ve read it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I saw the movie.” As he’d expected, the kid rolled his eyes. Bad. He had to reassess his tactics. “You saw it?”

  “They made me.”

  No need to ask who ‘they’ would be. His elder siblings.

  “Most of the movie trilogy was shot in my country, you know. In New Zealand.”

  The frown lifted from Rishi’s face. The boy crossed the room to come sit on the bed. Logan figured he could take a cue and sit down, too.

  They settled side by side, with the book still in his hand.
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  “So, your country looks like Middle Earth?”

  “It’s what I heard.”

  “Then it’s got to be a really diverse land. Do you know how many different settings make up this book?”

  Sparkling effervescence shot from the lad’s tone, and Logan figured they’d broken the ice. For the next ten minutes, the kid rattled on and on about the world Tolkien had sketched in his book. What startled Logan was that Rishi knew his stuff, his enthusiasm contagious. He could imagine how the man he’d become would make a terrific teacher or professor.

  “Oh, no, don’t tell me he’s brought you on to the dark side.” Suzanne gasped from the opened doorway.

  Logan looked up at her, and Rishi give a groan.

  “Go away, Suze.”

  Suzanne stepped into the room, heading straight for Logan. “You’ve monopolized our guest long enough, Bookworm. Let others get a piece of him.”

  At which Rishi stuck his tongue out at her, and she replied in kind.

  His lips twitched from the suppressed laughter.

  Suzanne clasped his arm and made him stand up. He allowed her to lead him away, but not before he’d turned to Rishi and bumped his fist against the boy’s after handing him the book back. “We’ll talk more another time. I never could understand Tolkien in the past, yet you spelt it out quite clearly so a dork like me could get it.”

  The light seemed to go up in the boy’s eyes. Good, he’d achieved what he’d set out to do. Someone should’ve told the kid he was worth it much earlier. He figured Neha did try to convince her youngest of his brightness, but no little boy really believed his ‘biased’ mother, right?

  Suzanne slid her arm around his as they entered the corridor, which brought his attention back on her.

  “Hi there, sexy,” she said.

  There hung a hint of laughter in her tone; he shouldn’t take her seriously. She was simply being her usual cheeky self with him.

  “G’day to you, too. Don’t you think you’re coming on a bit thick?” he said with a wink in her direction.

  “What? Calling you sexy?” She shook her head on a laugh. “Nah. First of all, you are sexy, and second, you’re old enough to be my father. So any hint of innuendo I may have infused in there will be neutralized.”

  Bugger, she didn’t hold back the punches, this one. Her father. Yeah, he could be. If he’d started really early, at twenty.

  “I’m not the only one who thinks so, you know,” she said as she stopped by the stairs.

  “Thinks what?”

  “That you’re a hunky piece of man meat.”

  His eyes almost bugged out of their sockets. “Pardon me?”

  “Oh, come on, it’s not like you don’t know it.”

  Women had chased him, yes, but never had one been so frank with him.

  “Mum thinks so, too.”

  These four words nearly brought his heart and brain to a stop. “Say that again.”

  “Mum,” Suzanne said. “She’s got it bad for you.”

  Bloody hell, he’d died to hear this, to get confirmation that, if he ever made an attempt to seduce Neha, she would be of a like mind-set. But here stood her daughter telling him this.

  “And you like her, too.” She shuffled from foot to foot. “Tell me I’m not mistaken.”

  Her tone had lost much of its sass with the last statement, and he heard the wait for confirmation in her words.

  What to tell her? How he desired her mother with a fire threatening to consume him completely? That Neha was and would always be his, and he wished the world knew this ASAP?

  “I do like your mum,” he replied with caution.

  “I knew it,” she exclaimed and quickly hugged him.

  “How?”

  She gave him a light, playful backslap on his arm. “The way you look at her, silly.”

  And he was being called silly. Outstanding. “How do I look at her?”

  “Like Uncle Eric looks at Auntie Lara, like she completes him or something. Like Uncle Trent looks at Auntie Diya, like she lights up his world. Hell, even like Grandpa looks at Grandma. Everyone knows she’s completely off her trolley, yet he’s nuts about her.”

  His chest constricted. There was something he needed to know, and there wouldn’t be a better opportunity or a better person to ask. “Did your father look at her like this, too?”

  She gave him a sad smile that wove a clutch around his heart.

  “Dad was never here to look at her in any way.”

  “I’m sorry,” he found himself saying.

  Suzanne shrugged. “Mum … she deserves this, you know. She’s a good sort.”

  “Yeah, she is.”

  Sounds came up from downstairs. It seemed like things were moving fast and they were missing all the action. “Let’s go down.”

  “Logan?”

  “Yes, Suzanne?”

  “You’ll think about what I told you?”

  He couldn’t ignore the way she bit her lip. It must’ve taken her a lot of nerve and courage to approach him with such a sensitive topic.

  “I will definitely think about it.”

  She smiled and took his arm again as they went downstairs. Once her foot touched the final step, she went back to being the vivacious and cheerful girl he knew, intent on ear bashing anyone within hearing distance.

  They went out onto the back porch where the cake and all the preparations for the party had been laid out. A crowd of teenage boys stood there, all reduced to drooling, dim-witted masses of muscle as Suzanne walked in. Only one blond boy who bore a close resemblance with Trent Garrison appeared unfazed by her, and yet, Logan reckoned Suzanne wished for him to notice her.

  He stifled a laugh. She’d go far, this girl. She not only had looks but a functioning brain and a good heart, too.

  Exactly like her mother. He glanced around the gathering to find her. No such luck as Kunal and then Trent caught up with him and started to make the presentations with the rest of Neha’s family.

  He caught sight of her as she walked in with big bottles of soft drinks in her hands. While she placed them on the table set out with all sorts of delicious-looking finger food, Logan could do nothing but watch her from afar as the birthday celebration started.

  Soon, Kunal had cut the cake, and Neha started distributing the plates of food when Diya, her sister he’d mistaken for a teenage girl back in the kitchen, came in with another cake in her hands.

  Neha paled, and she seemed to softly reel.

  Concern and alarm flew through him, and he had already started towards her when the question flashed in his mind. What’s going on?

  “If you thought we’d forget,” Diya said. “You’re sorely mistaken.”

  Diya placed the cake down, and Lara, Neha’s other sister who looked remarkably like her, grabbed hold of Neha’s shoulders and pushed her to the edge of the table.

  “Come on, blow your candles,” she said.

  Neha lowered her head and blew the flickering flames out.

  Logan remained rooted to his spot. She shared a birthday with her son? And she’d invited him and not told him about this tiny fact?

  Sudden anger welled up inside him, a fury he found himself powerless to tamp down as he narrowed his eyes on her. Why hadn’t she told him? He’d thought there was more between them. So why had she hidden this tiny fact?

  Calm down, mate. It’s not her fault.

  No, it wasn’t. She had no idea how he felt about her. To her, he was only the boss, and her son’s mentor.

  The explanation sounded plausible, and logical, too.

  So why did it leave a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth when he looked at her?

  She wouldn’t acknowledge his gaze, and a part of him knew she did it on purpose. This notion added oil to the fire of his emotions, but he’d bide his time and get to the bottom of this matter.

  His opportunity arose a short while later. All the youngsters had retired to the front room to try out the new gaming computer Kunal had received
as his birthday gift. The adults still hung out on the back patio, except for Neha.

  Without a doubt, he knew she must’ve retreated to the kitchen. Her territory.

  Well, she might think she’d be safe there. How wrong she would be, then.

  True enough, he found her in the deserted room when he went looking for her. She stood there cutting the birthday cake in slices and placing them on paper plates. He couldn’t help but watch the graceful way she held the knife in her hand and how she plunged it with a steady grip into the creamy cake.

  A few seconds later, she froze.

  She must know he stood here, all right, but bugger if he’d make things easy for her. She hadn’t told him today would be her birthday, too, bloody hell.

  He waited until she’d turned towards him, then he moved. Her eyes grew large, liquid dark pools that seemed to draw him in the closer he got to her. She parted her lips as he approached, and all he could think of converged on what it would be like to kiss her. To press his mouth to those succulent-looking lips and taste her.

  But he couldn’t do that, not when anyone could walk in on them at any moment. He’d have to take this nice and sweet. Yet, nothing said he couldn’t start his offensive right away.

  He needed to make her squirm, make her yearn for him, make her feel the kind of intense, ragged emotions she brought up to a turmoil inside of him.

  Logan glanced at her hands, where she still clutched the knife. Her fingers had frozen halfway into the cake, her thumb brushing the top layer and disappearing in a swirl of vanilla cream.

  Slowly, without breaking eye contact with her, he settled his hand under her wrist. With a deft flick, he made her release the knife handle. He brought her fingers up, all the way until her cream-covered thumb hovered a hint of an inch from his mouth.

  She didn’t blink, a storm of emotions clouding her eyes.

  Embarrassment, want, desire.

  He closed the distance between them, opening his mouth enough so he could push her thumb in. Then, he languorously darted his tongue out to lick the sweet treat off her finger.

  A strangled moan escaped her at his first lick. A flush of colour tinted her cheeks, and he could almost drink the gasp of air she exhaled when he closed his lips around her thumb.