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He burst into laughter. “I knew I was going to like you from the second you walked around my bar. At least the owner doesn’t allow that kind of shit to happen.”
“I’m curious. Does he do that often?”
“Mr. Stark? He usually doesn’t need to go that far. Folks know his reputation and try not to piss him off.”
“His reputation?”
“That he’s a take no shit kind of man. He’s some big ex-football star nicknamed the Cruncher for his ability to break bones.” His grin had me more than curious. “I will admit he was more possessive than I’ve seen him. That means he likes you.” His grin made me blush.
Possessive. I wasn’t certain I liked the word any longer. I’d seen his look of fury, the kind of anger than made a man do very bad things.
“Great. Not the best first night.”
He laughed. “Stop worrying. You did what you had to do. Now, back to work.”
I took a deep breath, unable to pull my mind off the way Jameson reacted or how sexy he was. No one had ever come to my defense the way he’d just done. I searched the crowd for him once again, shaking my head. I had to get over my crush. When I noticed Ginger coming around the corner, I cringed.
“So, what do you think so far?” she asked as she approached the bar where I was standing and watching the bartender tripping out over the glorious drinks he was making. The man was an artist, flipping glasses and high-flying bottles of liquor all in time to the music.
The gorgeous and very buff blond was a hit with the ladies and he knew it. Every delivery was personal, including licking his lips in appreciation of the beautiful woman who’d ordered the cocktail. But he’d already let me in on a little secret.
Troy was gay.
He was also intoxicating, his tips reflecting his skill and prowess. If I could be half as good as the man one day, I’d make a fortune.
“She’s doing fabulously, darling Ginger,” Troy said in passing, giving me a wink.
“You’re a flirt,” she answered, lifting her eyebrows.
“Other than the jerks who grabbed my butt, I love it.”
Ginger laughed. “That’s why we pay our bouncers very well. I assume they took care of the wayward customers?”
“No, Mr. Stark did.”
She seemed taken aback. “Wow. That’s very rare, as in it never happens. You’re high on his radar.”
I wasn’t entirely certain that was a good place for me to be.
“Everything about Blackout is incredible. There’s so much energy and the crowd loves everything, including the cages hanging from the ceiling.” I glanced up at the performers, young men and women gyrating in similar costumes to the beat of the music, tossing out candy to passing customers. The entire scene was like a free-for-all party.
“A recent addition,” she noted. “My creation. Jameson thought I was nuts.”
“They don’t strip, do they?”
“Oh, heavens, no. They don’t need to. They’re providing an illusion of upcoming sin, a fantasy that allows our customers to believe in anything they desire.”
“Maybe I could perform one night. I can dance.” My exuberance continued to amuse her.
“We’ll see. Let’s make certain you master the art of serving our often raunchy customers first. Troy. Will you make Mr. Stark his favorite drink?”
“Why, of course, darling. Is he going to indulge our latest victim in a traditional walk of shame through Carnal Sins?”
His laugh was infectious. I already knew he and I were going to be best buddies.
“Ignore him.”
“Jameson asked to see me?” Uh-oh. I had the distinct feeling I was in trouble for what happened.
