Good Girl Gone Bad by Karin Tabke

this drank the cheap stuff, catcalled and hooted to the dancers, then went in the john and jerked off. So much for Klub Kashmir’s claim to catering to the more discriminating males. She leaned in. “Well, that’s real sweet of you, mister, but you still owe me three fifty.”
    He flashed her a glare. “I gave you a ten.” He looked back up at Sable’s gyrating thighs and grabbed his burgeoning crotch.
    “You gave me a five.”
    The man sneered, obviously not liking the fact that she was distracting him, and gave her his full drunken attention. “You ripped me off!”
    Phil grabbed the nearly empty bottle from his hand. “I didn’t rip you off, buddy, you ripped me off. If you want the rest of this bottle, cough up the three fifty.”
    He lunged across the table. Phil saw that train coming. She smacked him hard on the head with her tray. A strong arm grabbed her from behind and lifted her clear off her stilts and out of reach of the drunk, who had regrouped and was ready for his second attack.
    Ty didn’t waste a second on diplomacy. He grabbed the drunk by the scruff of his shirt and the back of his pants. As if he were taking out the trash, Ty marched to the front door, handed him off to Milo, the mountain-size bouncer, and the drunk was disposed of.
    Watching it all happen so quickly and effortlessly, Phil had to admit Ty’s commanding presence and fluid disposal of the asshole impressed her. The man didn’t break a sweat.
    Ty strode back toward her and the smile froze on her lips. His dark brows formed a V between two very angry green eyes. He was not amused.
    He grabbed her by the elbow and steered her away from the crowded tables toward an alcove in the back of the club.
    He turned her around and backed her into a corner.
    “Rule number one. We do not brain our clients with our trays.”
    “But he accused me of ripping him off!”
    Ty’s lips twitched before they formed a hard line. “How does it feel to be accused of something you didn’t do?”
    Phil hissed in a breath. “That was three years ago, Lieutenant. Let it go.”
    His fingers tightened around her arms. When she twisted, his grip increased in pressure. “You’re hurting me.”
    He loosened his fingers but still held her. “If you assault another client, I’ll have no choice but to let you go. I can’t let you beat up clients and not allow the other girls the same pleasure.”
    “Well, maybe you need to inform your clients they can’t cheat us hardworking cocktailers.”
    Ty’s face softened. “Phil, ah, Kat, don’t take everything so literal. When in Rome, do as the Romans do.”
    She didn’t try to ignore the hard underlying scent of the man who stood so close to her, nor the way his eyes kept dipping to her exposed cleavage and the way said cleavage suddenly grew heavy with tension. Her nipples stiffened and tingled. What had become a familiar heat flared between her thighs. “And what do the Romans do in Klub Kashmir?”
    Ty grinned, flashing white teeth. “They act like Romans who do what they need to, to keep their jobs.”
    Phil leaned back against the hard smoothness of the wall. She was glad when Ty followed and glad Kat took over. As Kat she could admire his imposing build, the hard sinew of his arms, and Ty’s undeniable maleness. Making her feel every bit a woman and feel no guilt or shame.
    “And how do I go about keeping my job?” she asked.
    Ty infiltrated her space so thoroughly, his heat penetrated her skin, warming it hotter. He smelled good. Clean, woodsy, strong. His chest brushed up against her. They both felt the jolt the contact elicited and they both pretended it didn’t affect them. Bending down so she could be sure to hear, Ty said, “Keep strutting your stuff and cockteasing, minus the aggression.”
    Phil would have taken his bait as an insult. Kat took it as a compliment. Kat pressed her full breasts against Ty’s chest, dragging them in slow temptation. She caught her breath when he pushed