Free Mad Season by Katia Wildermann

hands behind his head and watching them with a nonchalance Cal couldn't believe he really felt.
    "I guess I go in and face the music," Red said, turning so she could see both of them. "As awesome as last night and this morning was.... I hate to think it was a mistake, but Dean is right. I shouldn't be sleeping with a client, no matter how hot he is."
    That stung, but Cal could see the reality of the situation. He had been having fun pursuing her yesterday, but it had been her job that was on the line. Callum Reed the MMA fighter was her client, and as Adam had said, it was a big deal for her. For her livelihood.
    He said two words that he hadn't said in years. "I'm sorry. Sorry that you might lose your job, but I meant what I said. Kincaid will lose me as a client if he fires you. I shouldn't have fucked with your job, Red, but I don't regret fucking you."
    There. It could have been more poetic, but that was how he felt.
    She stared at him without saying a word until he started to feel self-conscious. He fidgeted with a corner of a pillow before turning to Adam.
    "A little help here, bro?"
    "Actually, I have a plan."
    ***
    Lyla felt curiously detached from her body as she looked between Cal and Adam. For starters, just waking up to two gorgeous, hot, naked men in her bed should have made for a glorious start to her day. But reality had come crashing back when her boss called and Cal had answered.
    There was no backpedaling, no excuses. Dean had called her on it immediately.
    Hearing Cal say he would break contract to keep her was something like a Cinderella moment, but it was also a little horrifying. Was she supposed to be his pet? Kept around to make him look good, and feel good?
    Even as she had that thought, she realized it was unfair. Cal had never been anything but direct and honest, and he was a beautiful soul in his own unique way.
    "What plan?" she asked.

 
    TWELVE
    Adam smiled into the mirrored elevator doors moments before they opened on the Kincaid & Masters reception area. Yeah, this was a good plan.
    He hoped.
    Between the three of them, they had hashed out the details. It had taken several hours and a special delivery to get ready, and now they were seconds away from the moment of truth.
    Honestly, he was a little nervous. He was used to working in the background, not being right up front, but they had all agreed in the end that his presence in person would be needed to drive their point home.
    The elevator doors opened, and the three of them walked out in a V formation, he and Cal slightly behind Lyla. As they reached around her to pull open the glass doors so she could walk through, Adam saw the receptionist drop the pen she'd been holding, and she stammered into the headset of her phone before batting at it to hang up.
    She stood up seconds too late to stop them from marching down the hall to Kincaid's office. Marching? No, it was more like a confident stroll. Like the heroes walking away from an exploding building in a movie.
    Adam chuckled at his own little fantasy, then brought his attention back to the moment at hand. This was serious.
    The door to Kincaid's office was open and Masters was there, kicked back in a chair, talking with him. They both stood, jaws slack, as Cal and Lyla entered. Adam followed, trying to keep the grin off his face.
    Lyla looked hot in her svelte black power suit jacket and skirt, with a bright yellow blouse and matching yellow four-inch spike heels. Her hair was drawn back in a bun, almost severe, but with just enough style to it to send the message that she was sex-on-a-stick-sexy and she knew it.
    Cal looked impeccable in his dark gray Armani suit with the red shirt buttoned to his collar, and a dark gray tie with a red pinstripe—real, not a clip on. The suit did wonders to accent his muscular frame without making him look like he'd been squeezed into it. His head and face were clean-shaven, and his expression was fierce—although Adam suspected it was to cover up a