Bad Boy of Wall Street: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance by Samantha Westlake Page A

loaded up the reservoir and pushed buttons semi-randomly on the front of the coffee maker until I heard the tell-tale dripping sound. I next went looking for mugs, finding a cupboard full of chipped examples.
    Just as the water line of brewed coffee in the pot was reaching the level where I could serve myself, I heard footsteps outside the kitchen. A second later, Rob entered, looking adorably sleepy as he reached up to rub at his eyes.
    Although despite clearly having just rolled out of bed, he still looked amazingly sexy, I observed with a little stab of irritation. His golden hair was mussed, rather than perfectly styled, but it just made him look more human, like the kind of man who could effortlessly whip up an omelette for his one night stand as he let her out of his luxury penthouse apartment in downtown Manhattan. I wanted to see him look messy and unkempt, just one single time!
    "Coffee?" he asked, sounding hopeful.
    I grabbed another mug out of the cupboard for him. "I found the coffee grounds and filters in the pantry, and figured I'd brew some," I replied. "After all, we've got a fun, exciting day ahead of us, and we'll probably want some caffeine to help us get started right away, won't we?"
    The sarcasm seemed to go over the man's head. Maybe he couldn't process it until after he'd finished off his first cup. Instead, he just frowned at me for another moment, and then helped himself to the coffee pot.
    "Part of me thought that you wouldn't be here this morning," he said, as he lifted the steaming cup up to his lips for a sip.
    I raised my eyebrows at him. Popping open the vintage 1950s-looking refrigerator, I found a half-used carton of half and half, and added a generous splash to my own cup before taking a gulp. Ah, that's the stuff.
    "Why would I be gone?" I asked, after I'd set my cup back down.
    He shrugged. "I told you last night that you probably wouldn't get the story that you were after from me."
    "And I told you that I was going to help prove your innocence, and that this would be just as good of a story," I answered, narrowing my eyes a little at him. "Remember? Or did your ears get filled with sand?"
    For a moment, I thought that Rob might get angry with me for snapping back at him, but he just smiled and stuck one pinkie into an ear. "That must be the problem," he said, after removing the finger. "Glad you diagnosed me, doctor."
    My frown melted away. I couldn't stay mad at him, not in this cute little kitchen with warm coffee suffusing up from my stomach to give me a warm internal hug. I was probably setting feminism back by a hundred years, but this little domestic moment felt worth it.
    "Besides, even if it doesn't make for a great story, this is probably the only vacation in the Hamptons that I'll be taking at any time soon," I went on. "So I ought to enjoy it and make it last! What's the hurry in getting back to writing up sex tips, anyway?"
    Hoo boy. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned sex tips, not around sexy Rob. Did his eyes flicker for a moment with interest when I said those words? I tried to convince myself that it was just my imagination, telling myself in vain that I wasn't thinking back to the feeling of leaning in against his body last night, out on the beach.
    "After some of the work today, you might want to get back to writing sex tips," Rob said, after a pause that felt like it was just a fraction of a second too long. Of course, he had to use the words, too. They sounded like a liquid invitation to disaster as they slipped out from between his lips.
    "What do you mean?"
    He gestured over his shoulder. "Remember that study full of papers? The answer is in there somewhere, and we need to find it. That means reading, reading, and then a break for some more reading."
    Ugh. Okay, that didn't sound nearly as sexy. "And what are we looking for?" I asked.
    He shrugged. "Honestly, I couldn't tell you. Something that discusses where this money came from, or its purpose. We need to find out