Jaci Burton by Playing to Win

him. He hadn’t even bothered to look back at her. For all he knew, she could have left by now.
    Not that she was jealous. She was here to watch his behavior—to do her job.
    Yeah, you did a fine job ogling his erection on the dance floor, Savannah.
    Ignoring her thoughts, she watched Cole in the middle of the half-dozen-girl sandwich. Really, were some of them even old enough to be in this club? Cole was…hmm…close to thirty? If that brassy redhead was twenty-one, then Savannah was a Yankee. And even if the girl was twenty-one—barely—he was still too old for her.
    Me-ow, Savannah.
    Oh, shut up. She was merely making an observation.
    “You’ll never have him.”
    Savannah dragged her gaze away from the dance floor. Lulu stood next to her, arms folded, a smug smile on her face.
    “Excuse me?”
    Lulu nodded toward the dance floor. “Cole. You’ll never have him.”
    “Oh, honey. I don’t want him.”
    Lulu seemed at a loss for words for a few seconds. “Then what are you doing here with him?”
    Savannah gave her a sweet smile. “None of your business.”
    The woman leaned in. “Everything about Cole is my business.”
    “Apparently not, or he would have told you what I was doing here with him.”
    Lulu’s lips tightened. She stared back at Cole like a jealous lover.
    Another one Cole was clueless about. He needed to pay attention to his women.
    “You’re in love with him?”
    Lulu shot her a glare. “I am not.”
    “Sweetie, you need to do a better job of disguising your feelings. It’s written all over your face.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s just my friend and I hate that these girls throw themselves at him.”
    “When you’d rather he throw himself at you?”
    “No. No . He’s nice to them. Too nice. He doesn’t see that they’re using him. I just want to protect him.”
    Savannah swiveled on the bar stool. Lulu’s cheeks were stained a dark pink.
    Maybe she’d been wrong. Lulu wasn’t in love with Cole. It wasn’t jealousy she saw on Lulu’s face; it was something else. Anger? Frustration? So maybe it was more of a little-sister-worship kind of thing. She really was trying to be protective.
    “I don’t think he needs protecting. He’s a big boy and capable of making his own decisions.”
    “You don’t understand. He tries to please everyone. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
    That wasn’t what the media reports said. The file she had indicated Cole was all about pleasing himself. And yet he seemed to have a lot of friends. Not all of them were women, either. After the dance he extricated himself from his harem and stopped along the way to jaw with a few men who had tables near the dance floor. He stopped, sat, and the waitress brought him drinks—water, she noticed—and he laughed with them. Talking football, no doubt. A crowd would gather, guys again.
    So not only did women find him desirable, but men wanted to hang out with him, too. Not surprising. Cole had that charisma thing going for him. He was open and approachable and didn’t walk into a club like this acting like a celebrity, even though they treated him like one. He was relaxed and friendly and very charming.
    And yet he had this terrible image as a troublemaker. Whereverhe was, fights broke out and he was typically painted as the instigator. He had a rep for having a bad attitude, for acting like a jerk.
    Where was that guy? Because so far tonight she hadn’t seen him. After he finished talking to the men, a couple of the girls pulled him onto the dance floor. He went willingly, seeming to give enough attention to both women to keep them happy.
    “Shit.” Lulu scanned a couple men who’d entered through the front door.
    “What’s wrong?” Savannah asked.
    “Trouble.” Lulu brushed past her and headed toward Cole, insinuated herself into the middle of the dance party to whisper in his ear. He looked where Lulu motioned and frowned, said something to the girls, who