Good looks, great body, intelligence, enthusiasm and money . . . Drew Black would be quite the catch if he wasn’t such a sexist, foul-mouthed jerk with the tact of a mountain goat.
With her external analysis now complete, Gillian moved closer, just a short way down the bar. She could hear Drew’s deep voice—not that she expected much enlightenment from his conversation.
But Drew surprised her.
“Will you call me?” Bimbo One asked him with a pout.
Lacking malice, he gave a low and mellow laugh. “No, I won’t.”
Look-alike Bimbo Two said, “How about me?” She toyed with his ear in a way that made Gillian twitch. “I can promise you a really good time.”
“I just bet you can.” Drew took her wrist and moved her teasing hand away. “But I have to pass.”
Gillian raised a brow. She’d expected him to suggest a threesome, and instead he’d rejected both of them.
Interesting.
The bimbos combined their whining complaints and attempts at persuasion until Drew appeared to get annoyed. “Girls, what the fuck? C’mon, I have shit to do and it doesn’t include having my ears ring. Go find something—or someone—else to do, okay?”
“But, Drew, we waited a long time to get to talk to you,” Bimbo One whined.
Drew leaned around the woman to eye his male companion. “A little help here, Brett?”
Gillian recognized the other man as a fighter. Grinning, he held up big, capable hands. “Sorry, Drew. I have a girl waiting at home.”
“We aren’t at your home, damn it.”
He smirked. “Yeah, well, Spice doesn’t like to share me.”
Drew pulled back. “Spice? What the fuck kind of name is that?”
“The kind that suits her.” Unruffled by the implied insult, Brett finished his drink. To Gillian, it looked like juice. She gave Brett points.
“Look,” Drew said to the closest bimbo, “you’re too fucking young and, frankly, too damned pushy.”
“We have to be pushy to get near you. You’re just so popular—”
“How about I give you a couple of tickets to the next SBC fight instead? Good seats. How’s that?”
The girls bounced with enthusiasm. Gillian couldn’t take it. She asked the bartender for a martini. By the time she’d been served and had taken a few fortifying sips, Drew was alone at the bar with Brett.
“You’re brutal, Drew.”
“Did you see those girls? Not only were they phony from head to toe, the damn giggles were wearing on my nerves.” He worked his shoulders, as if releasing tension. “Jesus, I do have some standards, you know.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“You want the whole list, huh? Well, it doesn’t apply here, but she has to be less than forty. Older broads are too independent.”
Brett laughed. “Those two together weren’t forty.”
“No, but young and not stupid don’t have to be exclusive.”
Brett grinned. “So what else?”
“She has to be childless, because, let’s face it, the whole kid thing is a major pain in the ass. No way am I fucking anybody’s mother. And before you say it, yeah, I know, those two are still children themselves.”
Brett saluted him with his juice.
“On top of being good-looking and sexy, she has to have a modicum of intelligence—at least enough that I can carry on a conversation with her. And no squealing. God Almighty, I detest broads who squeal.”
Brett commiserated. “They were squealers.”
“Can you imagine how loud they’d be in the sack, riding out a big O?” Drew laughed. “I’d need fucking earplugs.”
Brett grinned. “Braggart.”
That nasty mouth of his, Gillian thought as she shook her head. Riding out a big O. Who talked like that? The things Drew said, the crude language he used, were not befitting the force behind the fastest growing sport in history. That mouth had gotten him into trouble, whether he realized it yet or not.
It was her job to clean up his act, and to make him a more presentable figurehead for the SBC franchise.
A daunting task, but maybe not impossible. She always enjoyed a challenge.
The trick would be to beat him at his own game, to always keep the upper hand, and to grow a skin so thick that her feminist core wouldn’t be damaged in the process.
She’d also have to remember that he was a grade-A jackass toward women, albeit a sexy one, so it would behoove her to keep her emotional distance. Trusting him, in any way, would be a mistake. She could not let herself be drawn to him.
Sadly, he was the first man she’d found exciting in a very long time.
He was the last man she could ever get involved with.
Picking up her glass, Gillian moved down the bar and slid onto the vacated seat beside Drew. Slowly she crossed her legs. While sizing him up, she removed the olive from her drink and bit into it.
Both men stared at her, not so much because of her looks, which she knew to be average, or because of her figure, which was a little more voluptuous than currently popular. But because she’d invaded their space—and was now staring back.
Drew swiveled around on his stool to fully face her. Without a word, he checked her out, lingering on her legs, her cleavage, and then her mouth.
When his gaze finally crept up to hers, he said low, “Hello, there.”
Oh, men were so easy. Smiling in triumph, Gillian held out a hand. “Hello.”
A very warm, firm hand, twice the size of her own, enveloped her fingers—and held on. “I’m Drew Black.”
“Of course you are.” Still smiling, she retrieved her hand from his. “Gillian Noode.”
“Nude?”
Of course he wouldn’t let that one slide. With a chastising look, she spelled, “N.O.O.D.E.”
His mouth quirked. “Hell of a name.”
“Yes, and I’ve heard every joke there is from every grade school boy out there.” She reached beyond Drew to the fighter. She’d heard Drew use his first name, but she liked proper introductions. “And you are?”
He took her hand gently. “Brett Bullman, ma’am.”
Unlike Drew, who shaved his head, Brett had shaggy brown hair that was a little too long, a little too unruly. His gorgeous green eyes showed good humor.
He also had a name familiar to her. “The Pit Bull, right?”
His mouth twisted with chagrin. “I hear that’s what they’re calling me.”
“I’ve read about you, Brett. You’re touted as a self-taught phenomenon taking the fight scene by storm.” Gillian tilted her head at him. “You don’t like your nickname?”
He shrugged with indifference, and shared a friendly smile that had surely melted many female hearts. “Long as the contenders know who I am, I don’t care what they call me.”
She lifted her glass at him. “You’ve certainly earned some respect.”
“Maybe. The thing is, I haven’t really been challenged yet.” He gave a nod at Drew. “But we’re working on that.”
So it was a business meeting. “And I’m interrupting. Shame on me.” She stood to leave. She could wait for their negotiations to conclude. “Congratulations on your recent success.”
“Thanks, Ms. Noode. But please, don’t leave on my account. We’re all talked out now anyway. I was just finishing up my drink.”
Drew agreed. “I’m all yours, honey, so why not park your pretty ass back up on that stool so we can get better acquainted?”
Gillian’s teeth locked, but her smile didn’t falter. To Brett she said, “Call me Gillian, please.”
He nodded. “All right, Gillian.”
“When is your next fight?”
“It’s still being set up. After that last win, I got recruited by a great team, so I’d prefer to train with them for a while first.” He shrugged. “But if Drew wants me to fight, I will.”
“No more going it alone, huh?” Gillian had read that Brett taught himself by watching taped fights and then pr
acticing the moves.
His grin personified charm. “No, ma’am. I only started out that way because I didn’t know how to get in with a good team.” He flashed her that white-toothed smile again. “But I’m always open to learning from more experienced guys.”
Drew lounged back, elbows on the bar, and copped an attitude over being ignored. “After some promotion, I’ll give him a main fight on a pay-per-view. I just want to build him up a little more first.”
“I find it fascinating how this all works. Thank you for explaining.” Gillian turned back to Drew but did not reseat herself. “So, Drew.” She let out a big breath. “I suppose we really should talk.”
“You heard Brett. I’m all talked out.” His brown eyes challenged her. “But, hey, you got something more physical in mind, count me in.”
Gillian might not have had an extensive romantic background, but neither was she obtuse. Drew was sexually attracted to her. After having seen how he’d sent off the young bimbos, she felt marginally flattered by that. But not enough to play the fool. “I’m sure nothing more than talk will interest you.”
A brow went up. “The hell it doesn’t.”
This time her smile was snide. “But I don’t meet your many requirements, Drew.”
His gaze went over her again, slower this time, lingering in a way meant to discomfort her. He paused on her chest. “Honey, I think you fit the requirements just fine.”
Rather than be offended by his near-tactile scrutiny, Gillian felt . . . warmed. And that annoyed her. So he was confident. And take-charge. He did possess a type of raw sex appeal.
But it was so raw as to be dangerous.
She put an arm on the bar and propped her chin on a fist. “But Drew, I’m forty-one,” she lied. “That puts me well beyond your age stipulation.”
His mouth twitched into a grin and he took up the game with practiced ease. “You sneaky broad. You were eavesdropping on us.”
“Guilty. But you see, on top of being elderly, I have five . . . ” She paused for effect. “No, let’s make that six children.”
“You’re a terrible fibber.” He turned his head to study her waist in the snug skirt. “I’d put you at no more than thirty-three, tops. And any idiot can see those are not the hips of a child-bearing woman.”
Brett gave a choking cough, and made a point of looking at the ceiling.
“Hmm.” Gillian leaned in closer to Drew. “Perhaps you’re right.” She gave him a quizzical frown. “But why ever do you think I’d lie about such things?”
“Modesty?”
She pursed her mouth as if in thought. “Or maybe I stretched the truth to deliberately disqualify myself based on your list of suitable criteria. You know”—she waved a hand—“to avoid your personal interest.”
Drew got closer too, so close she felt his breath on her lips. He stared at her mouth. “Ah. So you assumed I’d be personally interested, did you?”
“Accurately, it seems. After all, you did suggest certain things you’d like to do.”
“To you. Yeah.” His gaze locked on hers. “If you need more details, they involve you baring yourself, and getting a little sweaty. So what do you say?”
Good Lord. The man showed no decorum at all. “Umm . . . no. Afraid not.” For her own peace of mind, Gillian moved away from him again. “You were probably too hasty in sending away the enthusiastic groupies who, I’m sure, would have been much more accommodating.”
“But they didn’t interest me.” His appreciative attention held her captive. “They were too artificial for my tastes.”
“The laughs?” she guessed.
“The boobs.” He nodded toward her cleavage and smiled. “I like things a little more natural.”
Servant: The Kindred Page 26
