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The three women who clung to his entourage wore tatters of spandex that made Piper’s short, cobalt-blue dress seem demure. The group settled in a gargantuan booth overlooking the main club floor. Piper introduced herself to the closest of his bodyguards as the club’s VIP coordinator because it sounded better than “special hostess.” She greeted Logan, who gave her the once-over.
Before long, the group had ordered a couple of magnums of Armand de Brignac, two liters of Grey Goose, some Gran Patrón Platinum, and lots of Red Bull. Coop took his time coming to greet the pop star. Logan hopped up and gave him a couple of manly slaps on the back. Only a few days had passed since Coop had been attacked, and she noticed his nearly imperceptible wince. But as she stepped forward to intervene, he gave her a back-off glare.
She was growing increasingly frustrated by all the inventive ways Coop kept her from sticking close to him. This was her third night as the club’s sole female bouncer, and her attempts to get the other bouncers to step in had only increased their hostility. They’d disliked her before, but even more now that they’d been informed that Coop had originally hired her as a watchdog. She couldn’t shake her uneasiness about his safety. She’d have felt better if she’d been able to track down Keith and his girlfriend’s new address.
Word had gotten out that Logan Stray was in the c
lub, and the crowd had reached capacity. Coop sat with the group for a while, drinking club soda and hating every minute, although he acted as genial as ever, so maybe she was imagining it. But turning himself into a nightclub impresario didn’t seem to be what Coop should be doing with his life.
Piper stopped him as he excused himself. “You’re hurting,” she whispered. “Take that ridiculous body of yours home and bury your head in one of those books you pretend not to read.”
He repaid her with his calculated heart-melter of a drawl. “You seem to be spending a lot of time thinking about my body. Too bad I haven’t made up my mind whether you’ll get to see any more of it.”
She swallowed. “That’s okay. I’m starting a relationship with . . .” For a fraction of a second she forgot his name. “With Eric. Our cop pal. We’re thinking about taking it to the next level.” And maybe they would, if she ever got around to returning his texts.
Coop seemed to tense up, or maybe not, because he sounded as laid-back as ever. “He’s a player.”
“I know, right? We’re a perfect match.”
He scowled at her and walked away.
Not long after, Jonah approached. If he’d had hair, it would have been bristling. “I heard you were on my boys again, telling them how they’re supposed to do their job.”
She did her best imitation of a reasonable professional. “The club’s packed tonight, and you know Coop got hurt a couple of days ago.” Coop had explained his injuries away as a sparring accident. “I’m sure he’d appreciate you keeping the crowd from bear-hugging him.”
He moved so close she could see his nose hairs. “I’m in charge of the bouncers, and that includes you. Now how about you tuck your balls back between your legs and mind your own business.”
“Stop being a jerk.”
That infuriated him. “Ever since you came here, you’ve been trying to take over. It’s no mystery that you’re the one who got Dell fired.”
She reared back on her ridiculous high heels and craned her neck to look up at him. “Dell was a dishonest turd, but then you probably knew that.”
He jutted his jaw. “You’re riding high right now, but once the boss stops boning you, he won’t even remember your name.”
A fireball exploded in her head, and she dug her finger into the middle of his chest. “Meet me in the alley after closing, you scumbag. Then we’ll see who has the biggest set of balls.”
She’d finally pierced his swagger. “Are you serious? You want to fight me?”
Not exactly. But just because he was big didn’t mean he was quick, and maybe she’d get lucky. Probably not, but maybe. She curled her lip at him. “Why not?”
He puffed out his chest. “I’m not fighting a chick.”
“Afraid I’ll get you pregnant?”
He stepped back, as if she were contagious. “You’re a lunatic, you know that?”
She grimaced as he stalked off. He was quite possibly right.
The three original women in the booth with Logan Stray had been joined by two more, all of them young and beautiful. Since Logan had seemed oblivious to her earlier, she was surprised when he gestured for her to scramble over them and sit next to him, but her heels were killing her, so she didn’t object.
“How old are you?” he said as she slid in. He’d begun to slur his words, not surprising, considering the amount of liquor being consumed at the table.
“Thirty-three, chronologically.”
“What does that mean?”
She slipped off her shoes under the table and took note of the tiny pimple lurking next to his soul patch. “I don’t always act my age.”
