Party Girl

Bebe’s raised brows told her she was thinking the same thing. “Officially? What does that mean? Are you expecting a notarized contract or something?”

“Um.” In her head, Hannah heard Chester Godwyn yelling at her for allowing her subject to do the questioning, when it should have been the other way around. But it was a damn good question, and damn good questions deserved answers. “The thing is, the man I’m talking about is stunning—like, perfect beyond imagining, and certain about everything he does. I also think he might have been a steamroller in a former life, because nothing gets in his way when he’s made up his mind. I’m not like that. I question everything, especially him, because he seems too good to be true. And I think that’s my problem. It’s hard for me to believe he’s real—that he’s someone I can rely on to always be there, and that we’re really in a relationship.” Then she tried to shrug it off, because what she’d said felt a little too accurate to reveal to herself, much less a total stranger. “Anyway—”

“Wait, you can’t pull the plug on this just when things are getting interesting.” Bebe held up a hand that flashed with rings glittering on every finger. “Tell me more about this perfect-beyond-imagining man. For instance, how can you not know whether or not you’re in a relationship?”

Good grief. “Oh, uh... Well, you know how it is in the early days when you’ve met someone. You never know what to call whatever it is you’re in—a fling, a hook-up, a relationship.” Though the very word relationship made something like panic flutter in her chest. “Now, um—”

“Honey, I get what you’re saying. I know all about screwing around for a good time, but I don’t know how any woman can confuse that with something as real and substantial as a relationship. Once you get involved in one of those, you just know. You know?”

Hannah sighed. “He seems to think that way.”

“But you don’t?”

Annnnnnd, this was why it was wrong to let the subject steer the interview. “Actually, we seem to have gotten off-topic. I have quite a few questions about—”

“Let me put it another way,” Bebe went on with more than a little steamroller energy herself. “You might not know that you’re in a relationship until you can answer this one question, and it’s this—would you be okay if this man had another woman on the side?”

Hannah inhaled sharply. “If he values his life, that thought better never cross his damn mind.”

“Well, then.” With a delighted cackle, Bebe settled back in her chair. “It looks like we have an answer. You’re definitely in a relationship.”

“I... I guess.” A knot in Hannah’s chest that she hadn’t even known was there loosened, and suddenly everything was as clear as day. “Though that might still be in question after tonight. He didn’t want me coming here, even though it’s my job.”

“Oh, I have no doubt lots of partners are going to have a problem with my club, but feel free to quote me on this—if someone has a problem with their loved one coming here to enjoy the delights of the Thunder Club, they’re more than welcome to come along and see what all the fuss is about. And who knows? They might learn a thing or two when it comes to getting their lady’s motor going.”

If Dalton got her motor going any more she’d burst into flames. “Sounds like you’ve put together quite a show for your customers.”

“I can guarantee that all my patrons will walk out of the Thunder Club with a smile on their face and a fire in their panties.” Bebe cackled again, before something caught her attention past Hannah’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Automatically Hannah glanced over her shoulder toward the stage while a table full of women off to the side whooped and waved fans of dollar bills at him, as if hoping to flag him down as he headed determinedly toward where they sat.

Considering that man was Dalton Derico—looking far sexier than any Spandex-wearing, shirtless male stripper ever dreamed of being—she honestly couldn’t blame them.

“Oh, my God.” She pressed a hand to her chest as he descended the short set of stairs leading off the stage. Every eye in the house was trained on him, yet he seemed completely oblivious as he crashed to a stop right next to her.

“So, have you done all you needed to do?” Dalton asked by way of greeting, offering a polite nod in Bebe’s direction before focusing in on Hannah like she was the only other person in the room. “You’ve done your interview, yeah? You’ve been here long enough. I want you out of here before the show begins and all hell breaks loose, and trust me, it’s gonna break loose. There’s a guy back there wearing nothing but fucking chaps.”

“A steamroller in a former life,” Bebe whispered beside her, looking up at Dalton like he was the greatest thing in the world. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

This could not be happening. “Dalton, I’m currently interviewing the Thunder Club’s owner, Bebe Zaiger.” Hoping she didn’t look like she was dying of embarrassment, Hannah turned to the other woman. “Bebe, may I introduce—”

“The steamroller.” Clearly unconcerned with this massive breach in professionalism, Bebe offered her bejeweled hand, her face alight with pure appreciation for a magnificent male specimen. “Dalton, is it? Hannah was just telling me all about you. I thought she was exaggerating when she said you were perfect beyond all imagining, but here you are,” she added on a charming laugh. “She was just sharing how worried she was that you’d be upset with her for doing her job here in my club while she had an amazing man like you waiting for her.”

Dalton glanced Hannah’s way while she felt her face go up in flames. “Perfect beyond all imagining?”

“I said that before you showed up while I’m trying to do my job.” Wishing she felt as irritated as she sounded, she couldn’t stop herself from drinking him in. Why did her stupid heart leap every time he appeared? It wasn’t fair. “How would you like it if I showed up unannounced at the hospital where you work, and told you it’s time to go because you happened to be seeing people who were naked?”

“The only reason why people are naked around me is because I’m a doctor, and I can’t treat whatever’s wrong with them through their clothes. Secondly, I don’t think you’d make it through hospital security to get into the ER or ICU to kick up that much of a fuss.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor as well,” Bebe all but squealed before patting Hannah’s hand. “This one’s a keeper, honey. A steamroller and a doctor. Damn, some girls have all the luck.”

It took everything Hannah had not to roll her eyes. “How did you get backstage?” she wanted to know, turning her attention back to Dalton. “The Thunder Club’s entrance is in the opposite direction.”

He lifted a careless shoulder. “I didn’t come in from the street. Some guy at the Pendry Hotel’s front desk gave me directions on how to get here. Maybe I took a wrong turn, but who gives a shit? Point is, I got here. You ready to go?”

“No, I’m not.” She folded her arms, determined to sit there all night to prove her point she was dedicated to finishing her job up right. “Not even close.”

“Fine.” Mouth set in a grim line, he grabbed up a chair, set it down next to hers and dropped into it. A second later his arm was wrapped around her shoulders, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. “Do what you gotta do.”

Oh, my God. “Dalton, I’m a professional,” she hissed, beyond mortified, while Bebe cupped her chin in her hand and watched them as if they were a fascinating TV show. “This isn’t how I work. Go away.”

“I get this is a little weird, and if our roles were reversed my head would probably be exploding right about now if you tried interfering like this.”

Well. Thank goodness he wasn’t completely oblivious to how awful he was acting. “Good. Leave.”