by Tessa Bailey
“Isn’t it a little soon to write him off if you just met him last weekend?”
“I’m not going to make time for a guy like that, and I certainly shouldn’t be crying over him. Not after spending only a handful of hours hanging out with him. It just hurt that he spent the whole night flirting with me and making me feel like I was the only woman in a crowded bar. And then I found him with his arms wrapped around someone else when I came out of the bathroom,” she explained. “It doesn’t really matter. I’ll probably never see him again, and twenty-two-year-old athletes aren’t exactly known for being monogamous anyway.”
She certainly had a point. Working with athletes, I spent a lot of my time around guys who took full advantage of the girls who were always throwing themselves at them. There were a few who preferred to have a steady girlfriend, but by and large, my experience had been that most of them wanted easy instead. Especially at that age.
“I’m here for you if you need me. You know that, right?”
“I know. How could I not know when you’re willing to go outside your comfort zone for me tonight?” she replied.
I groaned in response. “How far out of that zone am I going?”
When she pulled out a bag full of bachelorette party supplies, I knew I was going to regret saying yes. And as I walked into the club later that night, I couldn’t help but think that, once again, Cee-Cee had caught me at a weak moment. It was the only explanation I had for how I ended up here, dressed in a way that meant I was definitely going to be the center of attention when I so desperately wanted to stay home.
Instead, I was at a bachelorette party being held at one of the hottest nightclubs in Chicago. Only it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill bachelorette party since none of us were getting married anytime soon. Or even engaged. I hated lying as much as I disliked being the center of attention. Yet here I was—playing fake bachelorette so my best friend could get the inside scoop before making a pitch to the owner next week.
Chapter Two
Andrew
After a shit day that had started with an emergency that required my intervention, the last thing I wanted to do tonight was stop by one of my clubs. There had been a massive mistake with an order for a private party this weekend, so I’d spent most of the day fixing someone else’s fuck-up at one of my restaurants. And since the manager at the club I was heading to right now only started a month ago, I didn’t really have a choice about stopping in tonight because I hadn’t made it there last night.
I learned that lesson the hard way with the first bar I’d bought when my hands-off approach had almost killed the business. I hadn’t realized that the manager was running it into the ground. Not that I would have been able to spend that much time around the place back then since my main priority had been the team, but there was no way I was going to let something with my name on it go down like that.
I’d fired his ass and promptly taken my dad’s advice on how to fix the problem. I put someone I could trust in his place. Mark Anderson had been my best friend since we were little kids growing up next door to each other. While I had been chasing my dream on the ice, he had gone to school to get his MBA. Although he didn’t know anything about running a bar, he knew how to manage people. So I put him in charge and he hired someone with bar experience to work under him and teach him the ropes. Mark had the most important qualification to manage my first bar—he knew me well enough to be able to guess what I would want to have done without having to ask me about every single damn thing.
Tonight was the first time I regretted how well our arrangement worked. Mark had whipped the first place into shape so well that, when the opportunity had come up for me to buy the next one, I’d jumped at the chance. Before I’d known it, I’d owned a hospitality company with a variety of restaurants and clubs that were well known throughout Chicago. And Mark was my right-hand guy. The one I would normally call if I didn’t want to deal with this bullshit, but I’d promised him that he could have the whole weekend off to spend time with his girlfriend since she was pissed about his hours.
If I ever considered getting into a relationship, I just had to look at what was going on with Mark and Lisa to remember why they weren’t worth the hassle. Mark’s hours hadn’t changed in the last five years. They started dating a year ago. If you did the math, you’d quickly realize that she was already trying to change him when she didn’t even have his ring on her finger. I could only hope that never happened either, because I didn’t see good things in my best friend’s future if it did. Even though I knew it would piss him off, I’d have to tell him exactly what I thought of that bitch if it ever went that far.
It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy women. I did—a wide variety and as frequently as I wanted. It wasn’t as often as it used to be back when I played hockey, but the lure of an easy lay had lost its appeal after so many years. I hadn’t found a woman yet who made me want to turn in my bachelor status though. Hell, I rarely even wanted them around after a few hours of fucking. When I was playing professionally, my focus was on the game, and women were just a convenient way to blow off some steam and get my rocks off.
Ever since I started playing in the juniors, I’d barely needed to crook my finger at a woman to get her to drop her panties for me—especially the puck bunnies who wanted to score a player as a boyfriend. Being rich didn’t hurt either. I might have left the game after that last concussion, but I still had hot chicks throwing themselves at me all the time. It came in handy when I needed a beautiful woman on my arm since I didn’t really want more than a few nights at the most with any of them.
Lately though, I’ve started to find the whole thing a little boring. I could practically write the script for how tonight would go if I wanted to play the game. I’d get to my club, make sure the new manager was doing his job the way I wanted it done, have a drink or two to unwind after the crappy day I’d had, and then take my pick of the women who were sending me the right signals. We’d head to her place or a hotel, fuck for a few hours, and then I’d make my escape. If she were exceptionally good in bed, I might grab her number before leaving so we could go another round or two. Most men would give just about anything to trade places with me, and I was quickly reaching the point where I wondered if it was even worth the bother anymore.
I set aside my thoughts as I pulled up to the valet stand at The Box. One of the perks of owning the place was that I could trust the attendants, because the guys all knew that, if they fucked up my Ferrari, they wouldn’t just lose their jobs. I had a quick temper, and my reputation from being the enforcer of my team before I retired meant they were more than a little scared of me.
I tossed the keys to one of the guys as I got out of the car and gave him a quick nod of my head in greeting. Then I watched as he carefully climbed into the Spider and pulled it into a spot that was maybe fifty feet from the entrance. Chuckling lightly, I glanced at the line stretched as far as the eye could see before I walked towards the bouncers who were manning the door.
“Mr. Rourke,” he greeted me as I headed inside and I nodded my head in reply.
The place was packed, which was to be expected for a Friday night. I scanned the room, making sure everyone looked like they were having fun, and my eyes snagged on hair the color of warm caramel flowing down the back of what appeared to be a trim body. She was turned away from me, talking to a group of girls, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. The heels she was wearing did amazing things for her toned legs. The shorts she had on were a bit longer than what most of the other women had chosen, but they didn’t deter from her sexiness from what I could see.
It wasn’t rare for some hot chick to catch my eye when I was there. With the way women dressed to get noticed by men, it happened pretty regularly. But before I realized what I was doing, I had made it halfway across the room to her group. It was like I was being drawn to her by a string that was attached to both of us and I couldn’t stop myself.
As she turned to walk to the dance floor with her fri
ends, I quickly realized that she wasn’t dressed to try to pick guys up because it was damn clear she was already taken. The tiara and bachelorette sash she was wearing left no doubt that she wasn’t available, and for some unknown reason, I felt a surge of white-hot anger at the thought that she belonged to someone else.
Crystal-clear, blue eyes locked with mine for a moment as she stopped mid-step before one of her friends grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. I knew I should tear my gaze away from her because there wasn’t any point in looking at what I couldn’t have, but I found myself glancing her way repeatedly over the next half hour as I spoke with my new manager, Derek, over by the bar.
The girls finally made their way back to their table when I sat down at the bar to order a drink. At this point in the night, I’d normally head up to the office, where I kept my favorites. I stayed down here because she’d caught my attention and I didn’t want to leave yet.
“Bring me the bottle of the Sam Adams Utopias from my office,” I commanded.
The bartender ran off to get me what I wanted since we didn’t carry it on the menu. It wasn’t something you could really order anywhere, but I had developed a taste for it, so I kept a bottle on hand at most of my places since I liked to indulge in whatever I wanted when I wanted it as often as possible.
The bartender returned quickly and slid a bottle and snifter my way. Although it was technically a beer, Utopias didn’t taste anything like one. It was closer to a fine cognac with a higher alcohol content than beer and a complex, malty flavor. I poured myself a glass and sipped it slowly as I allowed my gaze to travel across the room and back to her again. My caramel-locked temptress.
I almost spit my drink out when I saw what she was pulling over her head. She had removed the bachelorette sash off and replaced it with a white shirt that had Lifesavers attached to it. Several guys at the table next to her group whooped in delight as they saw her shirt.
The woman next to her shouted out, “Suck for a buck, guys!” and they rushed over to her table.
I watched for a moment, stunned to see one of the guys reach out and stroke a piece of candy on her stomach with a finger. When he pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed over some cash to her friend, I noticed that she took a step back to create some space between herself and the guy. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red and she hugged herself tight in protection. From where I sat, it looked like her friends were taking her last night a little too far for comfort and I didn’t like it one bit. She might belong to some other guy, but I felt the need to offer her some assistance.
“Derek,” I growled, and my manager came over to me quickly. “See that bachelorette party over there?” I asked as I nodded my head in their direction.
“Yes, sir. It looks like they’re having a good time and are going to be good for business tonight with all the guys who want to buy her a shot,” he replied. “The shy ones usually pull at the guys the most. They all want the chance to see if they can make her come out of her shell even if she’s getting married soon.”
I felt a dull roar of rage crash through my brain at his words. I was not going to dangle her like bait at all the guys here tonight so we could sell more drinks. Hell no.
“Well, that’s just too damn bad then, because you’re going to walk over there and offer her party VIP treatment if they ditch the damn ‘suck for a buck’ shirt and head over to the balcony.”
“But, Mr. Rourke, that doesn’t make any sense. Bottle service up there runs a couple thousand dollars for the night.”
“You’re going to do it because I told you that it’s what I want. I own this place, not you. So get over there. Now,” I ordered as I watched another guy pull another piece of fucking candy from that damn shirt.
My gaze never left her as Derek walked over and spoke to the group. I noticed she heaved what looked to me like a deep sigh of relief and spoke quietly into the ear of the blonde standing next to her. Her friend nodded, and the men surrounding them hunched their shoulders and grumbled as they walked away. She very quickly removed the shirt and handed it over to Derek.
A growl moved up my throat as Derek used this opportunity to get her hands on him. The bastard. When he held his arm out, she wrapped a hand around his elbow and he escorted the group over to the bouncer standing at the bottom of the VIP section. The guy had worked for me at another bar before making the move over here, and he looked my way for permission after Derek talked to him. After I gave him a slight nod, he stepped aside to let the girls upstairs.
I loosened my Robert Talbot silk tie and realized that the color in the blue stripes made me think of her eyes. I couldn’t call her anything but “her” and “she” because I had no idea what her name even was. I never would because she was going to walk out of here and go marry her fiancé. And I was going to go home to an empty penthouse because I’d never bothered to build a relationship of any kind with any of the women I’d slept with. And although I’d grown tired of the game, I never wanted any of them enough to make a change in my way of life.
Until the moment I laid my eyes on her and felt the pull of our chemistry from across my crowded club. At her own goddamn bachelorette party. Of all the rotten luck.
Chapter Three
Josie
The last couple of weeks had flown by since I arrived back in town. I thought my interview with the Cavaliers medical team had gone very well, but I hadn’t heard back yet. My dad had come back to town for one night and then left again for another extended trip, claiming that the life of a traveling salesman was on the road. We’d barely spoken when he was home, and I was sad to feel relief when he was gone again.
Cee-Cee and I had gone out to lunch a couple of times, but she was busy with work. Apparently, our fake bachelorette party at The Box had paid off because her firm had gotten the contract. Her boss had been thrilled with the outcome and given her a promotion, so she was handling the account since she’d landed it.
It was weird having so much free time to myself. I’d spent the last seven years working so hard to reach the goal of being a physical therapist that I hadn’t often found myself with spare time. I swam frequently at the community pool in our neighborhood, happy to have an outlet that didn’t put pressure on my knee. With all the humidity, it had been aching lately, so I didn’t want to push it too much with high-impact exercises. I caught up on all the television shows I never got to watch and loaded my Kindle down with a ton of books I wanted to read.
I also went apartment hunting downtown. It was nice to live rent-free here at my dad’s place, but there was no way I could handle it long term. The ideal solution would be to live with Cee-Cee like we had back in high school, but she already had a roommate, so that was out too. I did check out her apartment building in the hope that I’d find a unit I could afford, but all the studios were occupied. My only hope was that I got the job offer soon and it paid more than I was expecting, but I was starting to worry that they weren’t going to offer me the position.
I grabbed my cell phone off the kitchen counter and pulled up Alec in my contact list. If they had hired someone already, he would know.
“Hey, Jo,” he greeted.
“Hi, Alec,” I replied. “I’m sorry my first call since I’ve gotten back to town is to bother you, but I was wondering if you had heard anything about who the team was going to hire for the team’s physical therapist.”
“They haven’t brought anyone in to meet the players yet,” he reassured me. “Do you want me to ask around and see if I can find out?”
Ever since Alec and I had struck up a friendship in high school, he’d always looked out for me just like I imagined a brother would. So I wasn’t surprised by his offer.
“No, don’t do that. You know me. I’m a worrier, but I guess it really hasn’t been that long since my interview.”
“You’re perfect for the position. They’d be fools not to offer it to you. And we know they aren’t that because they drafted me,” he teased.
&nb
sp; “Well, if they were smart enough to pick you, then obviously, I will get the job,” I replied.
“Unless they figure out the only reason you really want the job is to get your hands on my hot body again,” he joked.
I’d only ever touched him innocently during workouts and stuff back in high school and somehow never thought of Alec romantically, but even I had to admit that he was right in calling himself hot. His bright-blue eyes, dark-brown hair, and a body that was toned from all of his hours on the ice were a combination that drove the girls crazy back in high school. I was sure it had only gotten worse as he’d gotten older.
“Nah. I wouldn’t want to fight off the mob of women that follows you around.”
“A mob of beautiful women?” Alec chuckled. “I like the sound of that.”
“Some things never change,” I reminded him. “You always liked the groupies who hung around.”
“Well, as long as the sexiest one of them all wasn’t going to give me the time of day, then I figured I might as well keep myself occupied.”
I was surprised to hear that there was a girl back in school who Alec liked and wasn’t interested in him. “I’m sure you must be wrong. I can’t think of very many girls you didn’t date except for Cee-Cee and me. And we both know we don’t count,” I said right before I heard the beep on my line letting me know that another call was coming through. I glanced down but didn’t recognize the number. “You must be my good-luck charm. I think this is the team calling me now!”
“Well, hang up already so you can accept their offer. I’ll see you soon, babe,” he replied.
“Thanks, Alec. Talk to you later,” I told him before clicking over. “Hello, this is Josie.”
“Ms. Devereaux, this is Dr. Morrison with the Chicago Cavaliers. I was part of the group that interviewed you last week.”
“Hello, Dr. Morrison,” I responded. “How can I help you today?”