Best Man for the Job

“She’s sick. She called and asked me to cover your party.”

The man’s mouth tightened. “Not my party.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. You don’t seem like the partying type.” Or the marrying kind. But somewhere in the back of Eryn’s mind, that place where she kept foolish thoughts, a bright he’s available light just flashed on. She ignored it. The last thing she needed tonight was man trouble. But ignoring the attractive male in front of her was hard.

The gray eyes narrowed. “Business must be good if you can sass all your customers this way.”

“I’m in a business where I’m not going to take a lot of crap or disrespect. You can’t pay me enough for that.” Eryn hated putting the gig at risk, because Renee was a single mom and needed the money, and she’d said that bachelor parties could pay really well. Only a really good friendship and a godson would get Eryn so close to naked in a roomful of strange men.

“Cal, Cal. What are you doing, dude?” Another man, younger than the guy blocking the door, stumbled over and tried to lay an arm around the big man’s shoulders. The effort was wasted because he wasn’t tall enough and he was amicably drunk. He was dressed casually, jeans and sport jacket.

“Callan. Not Cal.” The big man’s voice remained soft but carried definite authority. He was a man used to being obeyed.

“Okay…Callan.” The newcomer drew back his arm. “But, chill, dude. Don’t hassle the stripper. We’re all here for a good time, and I paid good money for her.”

Eryn counted to three. “I’m not a stripper.” She didn’t want Renee or herself to be disrespected. Entertainment was a job, a profession. The audience had to know its place up front. “I’m here as an exotic entertainer. A dancer.”

Back when she’d first arrived in Las Vegas, she’d worked as a dancer for a while. Her career still suffered from that from time to time as coworkers discovered her past, but that history also allowed her to be good at her current profession. During her dancing days, she had always been very clear about the job description.

“And you paid for the performance, not me.” She was also always very clear about what was paid for.

The drunken man smiled and shrugged. “Sure, sure, honey. No foul. Keep your shirt on. At least for now.” He laughed at his own joke and glanced at the bigger man. The big man’s sober expression never wavered and the man’s good humor disappeared.

Callan didn’t take his gaze from Eryn. He had deep, penetrating eyes. “She’s not the entertainer you hired for this.”

At first, Eryn thought the big man had referred to her as an entertainer as sarcasm, but there was no hint of that in his voice. She locked her gaze with his out of stubbornness and tried not to notice how beautiful his eyes were.

“That right?” The man shoved his hand out to Eryn and smiled. From the automatic way he smiled, Eryn felt certain he was a professional salesman. “I’m Toby. Best man. I’m paying for the party.”

Eryn shifted her attention to Toby and put on a high-wattage smile. She could almost hear Renee whispering in her ear. Always be polite to the guy paying the bill. Renee had taught her that when she’d first gotten into the business. Plus, shifting her attention from tall, dark and obnoxious helped dial down the unexpected interest that had flared up.

“I’m Candy.” She shifted her makeup kit and travel bag to her left hand and took Toby’s hand in her right.

“Yes you are.” Toby winked at her.

“But I’m not the entertainer you hired for the evening. My friend ended up sick a couple of hours ago. She asked me to cover for her.”

“The other girl was blonde, right?”

Eryn ignored the gender terminology this time. The guy paying the bills was allowed certain liberties, and they stopped where she said they stopped. “My friend? Yes.”

Toby leered at Callan. “You ask me, we’re trading up. Daniel has a thing for blondes, which should make your sister happy. But I’ve always been partial to brunettes.” He glanced back at Eryn. “And you’re smoking hot, baby.”

“Thanks.” Eryn tried to sound like she meant it as she took her hand back from Toby. She held up her travel bag and makeup kit. “Do you have somewhere I can change?”

“Sure, sure. Right this way.” Toby waved her inside the hotel suite.

Callan didn’t move.

“C’mon, sarge, let the lady through. We don’t have all night.” Toby looked uncomfortable and not even close to being demanding. “After all, how many bachelor parties are we going to throw your future brother-in-law?”

With obvious reluctance, Callan stepped aside. Eryn slid by him with difficulty. Her shoulder brushed against his chest and discovered he was solid as a brick. Before she could completely ease by, he took her bag and kit from her with ease.

“Hey.” Eryn reached for her things.

“Let me help you. Bedroom’s this way.” Somehow Callan turned his body so she couldn’t get her property back, and in one long stride he was beyond her reach.

Eryn glared at Toby. “What’s with this guy?”

“He’s protective of his sister.” Toby scratched the back of his neck and looked embarrassed.

“Is she here?”

“No, of course not. What kind of bachelor party would that be?” Bemused, Toby shook his head. “Callan’s okay. Just…intense. Protective of his sister, protective of his future brother-in-law, I guess. Jenny, his sister, told me he was a control freak.” He held up his hands. “But look, don’t worry about things. You’re going to come out of this okay. I’m a big tipper. So are the rest of Daniel’s friends. This’ll be fun.”

You better hope so. Eryn wanted nothing more than to get her things back and leave, but Renee was counting on her.

Raising a child alone was expensive. Eryn walked through the expensive suite into the bedroom where Callan had disappeared.

When he reached the bedroom, Callan tossed the travel bag and makeup kit onto the bed. He didn’t like surprises and he didn’t like changes. Ops, even bachelor parties, were supposed to run smoothly. When things didn’t run efficiently, situations got difficult. Or dangerous.

And the woman was definitely a surprise. She was just too competent, unafraid. Normally he liked that in a woman, but tonight she irritated him because he hadn’t known she was coming and she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would come out of a cake in a roomful of horny, inebriated men she didn’t know.

The makeup kit wasn’t locked and he went through it quickly. He’d just picked up the locked travel bag when the woman walked in. She stopped in the doorway and gazed at the open makeup kit.

“I don’t like people going through my things.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

She was beautiful. At least five-ten with long legs, a trim build with generous curves, and a headful of curly dark brown hair. Her eyes were blue-green, as watchful as a cat’s. Her mouth was a little too wide, but it looked fine on her. She wore a simple black dress that allowed her to fit in anywhere in Las Vegas’s night scene.

Callan swallowed with difficulty and tried to drag his gaze from her, finally managing it with difficulty.

She crossed her arms. “The travel bag’s locked.”

“I noticed.”

“Want me to open it for you?”

“Not necessary.” Callan took out a lock pick set he’d already palmed and worked both locks. They popped open in seconds. Then he searched through the bag’s contents. Panties, G-strings and an array of neon-colored sexy underthings filled the bag. Just to be sure, he felt the bag’s lining as well. Lingering perfume and body powder filled his nose and made him think of how little flesh those lacy things covered.

He forced himself to think of the party as a security op. You’re in no man’s land here, soldier. In enemy territory. Don’t drop your guard.

“I keep an inventory of everything in that bag, so don’t think of taking any souvenirs.”

The woman spoke calmly, but Callan knew she was angry. If he’d been in her shoes—stilettos, and expensive from the look of them—he’d have been angry, too. He shut down the trickle of guilt he was feeling. “Alphabetical or color-coded?”

“What?”