Jaci Burton (7 page)

She narrowed her gaze at him and gave him a wary look, but he figured she must like dancing because she didn’t walk away. Instead, she flung an arm around his neck and slid close, but still kept her distance. It made him want to grab her and feel her body touching his.

“You are dangerous, Peaches.”

“We’re just dancing here, Cole. Don’t read anything into it.”

“Not reading anything. This is just business.”

“Of course it is.”

They were both lying. She shifted her hips, her body inches from his crotch.

Tempting. Oh so tempting. And his dick was getting hard.

Savannah was a smart woman. She had to notice, so he put his hands on her hips and swung her out, this time making sure when he pulled her back, he tugged her close.

She immediately pulled away, creating that inch or so of space between them.

It didn’t help, because she knew how to move, and when she turned her back to him and swayed her hips to the music, he broke into a sweat.

She might not be grinding against him, but he still felt her.

Christ. Maybe she was deliberately torturing him, or maybe this was her way of telling all his friends to fuck off by the way she danced with him. Either way, he was hard as steel and his balls were throbbing.

If they were alone he’d know exactly what to do. He’d wrap his arm around her waist and pull her against him, then slide his hands up to her sweet, full breasts, cup them until her nipples hardened, pull the top of her dress down, then turn her around so he could taste her sweet mouth. When he had his fill of kissing her, he’d move down and suck on her nipples until she moaned. He’d strip
her down and lay her on his bed so he could lick her pussy and make her come. And then—

Yeah. The direction of his thoughts wasn’t helping his erection. Fortunately, the song ended and another one started up.

“Mind if I take over?”

One of his club friends—Sheila—stepped in front of Savannah.

Savannah half turned and met Cole’s gaze for a fraction of a second before she turned to Sheila and smiled. “He’s all yours. I need a breather anyway.”

“Hey, wait,” Cole said. But Savannah had already disappeared into the crowd.

So maybe the signals he’d gotten had been all in his head, because she’d sure walked away easily enough.

SAVANNAH WATCHED THE WOMEN SQUEAL WITH JOY AS
Cole was swallowed up by sequins, spandex, miles of legs, and a lot of hair.

She could tell from the look on his face when she’d walked away that he’d been confused, then angry. With her. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. She’d told him from the outset that she wanted to observe and nothing more, but he’d acted affronted when she’d wandered off to sit and watch instead of interacting with him.

It wasn’t her fault she didn’t want to act like his date. She wasn’t his date.

He’d wanted to dance. She’d danced. And maybe the dance might have gotten a little hot—maybe she’d been more than affected by being so close to him, but she’d kept her distance.

And okay, that whole distance thing had been difficult, especially when he’d tugged her against him, and she’d felt how hard he was—everywhere. It had been tempting to stay there, to run her hands over his broad shoulders, to test his abs and see if they were as real as the photos she’d seen.

But she’d been good. She’d walked away. And when another woman had wanted to cut in, it had been fine with her. She wasn’t the least bit interested in Cole Riley. That other girl could have him.

So could those other six women with skinny bodies and big boobs. And from the way they were all playing grab-ass on the dance floor, they certainly all wanted him. He hadn’t even bothered to look back at her. For all he knew, she could have left by now.

Not that she was jealous. She was here to watch his behavior—to do her job.

Yeah, you did a fine job ogling his erection on the dance floor, Savannah.

Ignoring her thoughts, she watched Cole in the middle of the half-dozen-girl sandwich. Really, were some of them even old enough to be in this club? Cole was…hmm…close to thirty? If that brassy redhead was twenty-one, then Savannah was a Yankee. And even if the girl was twenty-one—barely—he was still too old for her.

Me-ow, Savannah.

Oh, shut up.
She was merely making an observation.

“You’ll never have him.”

Savannah dragged her gaze away from the dance floor. Lulu stood next to her, arms folded, a smug smile on her face.

“Excuse me?”

Lulu nodded toward the dance floor. “Cole. You’ll never have him.”

“Oh, honey. I don’t want him.”

Lulu seemed at a loss for words for a few seconds. “Then what are you doing here with him?”

Savannah gave her a sweet smile. “None of your business.”

The woman leaned in. “Everything about Cole is my business.”

“Apparently not, or he would have told you what I was doing here with him.”

Lulu’s lips tightened. She stared back at Cole like a jealous lover.

Another one Cole was clueless about. He needed to pay attention to his women.

“You’re in love with him?”

Lulu shot her a glare. “I am not.”

“Sweetie, you need to do a better job of disguising your feelings. It’s written all over your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s just my friend and I hate that these girls throw themselves at him.”

“When you’d rather he throw himself at you?”

“No.
No
. He’s nice to them. Too nice. He doesn’t see that they’re using him. I just want to protect him.”

Savannah swiveled on the bar stool. Lulu’s cheeks were stained a dark pink.

Maybe she’d been wrong. Lulu wasn’t in love with Cole. It wasn’t jealousy she saw on Lulu’s face; it was something else. Anger? Frustration? So maybe it was more of a little-sister-worship kind of thing. She really was trying to be protective.

“I don’t think he needs protecting. He’s a big boy and capable of making his own decisions.”

“You don’t understand. He tries to please everyone. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

That wasn’t what the media reports said. The file she had indicated Cole was all about pleasing himself. And yet he seemed to have a lot of friends. Not all of them were women, either. After the dance he extricated himself from his harem and stopped along the way to jaw with a few men who had tables near the dance floor. He stopped, sat, and the waitress brought him drinks—water, she noticed—and he laughed with them. Talking football, no doubt. A crowd would gather, guys again.

So not only did women find him desirable, but men wanted to hang out with him, too. Not surprising. Cole had that charisma thing going for him. He was open and approachable and didn’t walk into a club like this acting like a celebrity, even though they treated him like one. He was relaxed and friendly and very charming.

And yet he had this terrible image as a troublemaker. Wherever
he was, fights broke out and he was typically painted as the instigator. He had a rep for having a bad attitude, for acting like a jerk.

Where was that guy? Because so far tonight she hadn’t seen him. After he finished talking to the men, a couple of the girls pulled him onto the dance floor. He went willingly, seeming to give enough attention to both women to keep them happy.

“Shit.” Lulu scanned a couple men who’d entered through the front door.

“What’s wrong?” Savannah asked.

“Trouble.” Lulu brushed past her and headed toward Cole, insinuated herself into the middle of the dance party to whisper in his ear. He looked where Lulu motioned and frowned, said something to the girls, who nodded and walked away.

Then he came toward her.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah. The media showed up.”

She turned around and scanned the club. “Really? I don’t see anyone.”

“That’s the idea. They don’t want you to notice them. But Lulu can spot them. They sneak in, hide their cameras and audio recording equipment. She’s smarter than they are, though. She knows all their faces.”

He took her hand and led her toward the back of the club, down a narrow hallway toward the restrooms. He made a left into the manager’s office.

“We’ll head out the back door through the alley,” Cole said.

“Why not just go out the front door?”

He stopped, turned to her. “You want your picture spread across the sports blogs and in the tabloids next week as my latest girlfriend?”

“No, thank you.” That would not be good for her business.

“Then let me do it my way.”

She tugged on his hand. “Wait. Won’t they just follow us?”

He grinned. “Peaches, I’ve been at this awhile. I might get caught now and then, but I’m getting smarter at beating them at their own game.”

The manager’s door opened and one of the front door bouncers walked in. Similar in height to Cole, with the same dark hair, he nodded. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dave.”

“No problem. Kasey’s bringing your car around. I’ll meet you at IHOP in thirty.” Dave handed a set of keys to Cole, who gave his to Dave.

“Try not to break any speed limits.”

Dave laughed. “No guarantees.” He opened the door and dashed out. Savannah caught a glimpse of Cole’s Lexus parked right at the door. Dave dove in and took off in a hurry.

Savannah followed Dave’s exit. “The paparazzi will follow Dave, thinking that’s you in the car.”

“Yup.”

She turned to face him, realizing he still had hold of her hand. Jerking it away would be rude. “So now what?”

“We’ll wait here for a few, make sure they took the bait, then we’ll head out in Dave’s car.”

“You’ve done this before.”

He smiled down at her and her stomach fluttered. There was something about the intensity of his eyes.

“A few times.”

“Makes me wonder what you were escaping from.”

“Was I doing anything bad out there? Drunk and disorderly? Roughing up any women? Getting into fights?”

“No.”

He left it at that. Maybe he was right, and she was looking for something that wasn’t there in the first place.

“You’re good to go, Cole. They’re gone.”

She turned to see Lulu peeking her head in the door.

He let go of her hand and went over to Lulu. “Thanks for the heads-up, Lou.”

Lulu hugged him. “You know I always have your back. Dave’s truck is in the back of the lot.”

He opened the door for Savannah. “We’ll go out this way and around the side.”

Savannah smiled at Lulu, who gave her a nod, and Cole shut the door behind them.

Dave drove a beat-up truck on lifts, so Cole had to pick her up to put her into the seat. The engine roared to life with the dual-exhaust pipes choking out a rumble of noise. Savannah looked around, expecting someone to notice them.

No one did.

“Dave does drag racing on the weekends,” Cole explained as he pulled onto the main road. “He’s the perfect guy to take off in my car and lose the guys with the cameras.”

“I see. And you don’t worry about him behind the wheel in your car?”

He glanced at her. “No. I trust him.”

“You seem to trust a lot of people.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“How did the media know you were going to be at the club tonight?”

“Someone at the club probably called them.”

“Not one of your friends, though.”

“Doubtful. They just want to party. The media showing up kills the party because they know I’ll leave.”

“But you don’t know that for sure. A lot of people want to be photographed with a celebrity. It brings them—at least to their minds—instant fame.”

“I trust the people I surround myself with.”

“Is this a club you frequent a lot?”

“Yeah. I know all the regulars.”

“How well do you know them?”

“Like I said…I see them there all the time.”

“But it’s not like you have them over for barbecues or go to the movies with them or do anything with them other than hang out with them at the club, right?”

He gave her a hard look. “Well, no. So what? They’re still my friends.”

Lulu had said he was too trusting. Maybe she was right about that. “Do you even know their last names?”

“Do you know the last names of everyone you’re friends with?”

“Yes, Cole. I do.”

He didn’t say anything after that, and Savannah could tell from the tight set of his jaw that he wasn’t happy with the direction of their conversation. She made a mental note to bring it up again later.

They met Dave at the pancake house and exchanged cars in the parking lot. Cole pulled out a wad of bills and paid Dave a rather generous tip for his trouble.

“Hey, always fun to drive around in the Lexus, man. Anytime.” He winked at Savannah and drove off in his truck.

Cole shot a glance at the pancake house. “Hungry?”

“Not particularly, but if you are I’m happy to accompany you.”

He shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s late and I’m sure you’d like to get home. Plus, I need to get this car off the road in case the media is still circling. I’ll grab something to eat after I drop you off.”

Once again, he was being polite. Not thinking of himself first. Not at all congruent with the selfish, egotistical man she’d read about in his portfolio.

Something wasn’t right here, and she’d have to get to the bottom of it. Either he was playing her, or the reports about him were inaccurate.

Savannah was determined to find out. She couldn’t fix his image if she didn’t know who the real Cole Riley was.

He drove her back to her house. She started to get out, but Cole did, too.

“You don’t have to come in.”

“Sure I do. You brought a lot of stuff. I’ll help you carry it in.”

Again, he confused her. This had to be some kind of ploy on his part. “All right.”

She let him inside and turned to him, reaching for her bags. “I’ll take those.”

“I can handle it. Where do you want them?”

“You can lay them down on the bed.” Her Southern hospitality kicked in then. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure.” He went into her bedroom and came back a few minutes later.