Tate rubbed his chin. “Putting our relationship aside and the fact that I have extremely vivid memories of the first time I was ever in your conference room?”
“Yes. Putting aside all of that.”
Tate scrunched his nose up in mock disgust. “Then the truth is I never would’ve kissed you in this room. I was much more impressed by the size of yours.”
Logan laughed and dropped his gaze to Tate’s lips. He was about to speak when the door to the room opened, and Tate’s new lawyer finally joined them.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.”
Logan turned his head in the direction of the voice. When his eyes landed on the tall, good-looking blond who’d just entered the room, his mouth fell open. There, standing in front of them, was—
“I’m Daniel. Daniel Finley.”
Logan felt his eyes widen in shock at the man who was currently looking between the two of them, and as he pulled the chair out opposite them, Logan tried to work out what the fuck was going on.
This is Finley? The same fucking guy who was with Robbie that night at Whipped?
He pivoted in his seat to face Tate and saw that he had the same shocked-as-shit expression. When he looked back at the man who was now sitting with a crooked grin on his face, he wondered if this was some kind of joke.
“Now this is a happy coincidence. I had no idea that the Mr. Morrison and Mr. Mitchell I was meeting with today were the two of you.”
“The hell you didn’t,” Logan couldn’t stop himself from saying, and he felt Tate sit up a little straighter in the chair beside him when he let out the obscene curse he’d been holding in.
* * *
Daniel…Finley…or whoever the fuck he is, Tate thought, opened the file, and as he ran his eyes down the information inside, he pushed a piece of his shoulder-length hair behind his ear. Tate shifted to see Logan pin him with a “can you fucking believe this” look of his own.
“Funny thing is, I didn’t know that Cole had a brother,” Finley stated without looking up from what he was reading.
“Apparently, there were several things neither of us was aware of.”
Logan’s tone was so frosty that Tate was surprised that, when he reached over and took his hand, it was warm instead of ice cold. Then Finley lifted his head, and when he locked eyes with Logan, Tate was torn between running interference and wanting to watch them lock horns with one another.
“I’m sorry. Are you implying that I just lied to you, Mr. Mitchell?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m positive you knew exactly who Cole’s brother and business partner was before you walked through that door today.”
“And you? You didn’t do a little background checking before you came in? I find that hard to believe.”
Tate eyed the man who was holding Logan’s stare, and the air in the room thrummed with angry testosterone. He remembered the confident way this Daniel guy had practically invited them to his bed months ago, and so, apparently, did Logan.
“No. I didn’t. I trusted my brother’s judgment. Clearly, that was a mistake.”
“What’s the problem here?” Daniel asked. “That I’m one up on you? Because I’m not averse to you being up on me—either of you for that matter.”
“That’s it. Let’s go,” Logan said as he turned toward Tate.
Tate pushed back in his chair and got to his feet, knowing that the annoyance lighting those brilliant eyes had to be matching his own irritation.
Apparently, this guy isn’t deterred by the word no.
Daniel also stood, placing his fingertips on the table as he studied both of them carefully. Then, as if he hadn’t just blatantly hit on Logan, he dismissed him and addressed Tate.
“I read your case. Do you want to win or do you want to lose?”
Tate glared at him, trying to see past the urge to plant his fist in his smarmy face.
“If you do the smart thing here and hire wisely, you have a great chance of walking away with a substantial settlement. You were the victim in a horrendous motor vehicle accident—”
“Which is another reason we don’t want to be fucked around with by you,” Logan stated as he moved to stand behind his chair. “We’ve been through enough.”
Daniel eyed Logan. “I don’t believe I was asking you.”
“Why don’t you go fuck your—”
“I don’t like you,” Tate interrupted, finally speaking up. “I didn’t like you the first time we met, and I don’t like you now. But apparently, you’re the best.”
Straightening to his full height, Daniel slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I am.”