He looked at her and smiled. “I have investments.”

“Good to know.”

He opened the door and turned on the lights. She stepped into a place she hadn’t expected. Definitely a bachelor pad, decorated with a lot of black and chrome, with a huge flat-screen television mounted on the wall, along with multiple game equipment. But it was neat and tidy, with leather couches and stellar décor, from lamps to tables and even a few throw pillows and accent rugs.

“This is very nice. You decorate it yourself?”

“Thanks. And no, I don’t have decorating talent. But I do have a sister. She did it for me.”

She followed him down the hall and into one of the bedrooms—she counted three. The master was huge, with a king-size bed, two dressers, and an enviable closet. This place might have more square footage than her house.

The bed had a light brown comforter and about nine pillows, which made her want to dive in and make herself at home.

“I’ll just lay this stuff on the bed. You can change before we go out.”

“That’ll be fine. Thanks.”

He led her into the living room, then turned. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sparkling water if you have it. If not, plain water is fine.”

“Sparkling it is.”

She took a seat on the sofa. “You keep your bar well stocked?”

“Yeah. For all those wild parties I throw.”

She cocked a brow, trying to determine if he was serious or not. “Seems to me you do plenty of public partying.”

He brought her the glass. “I don’t throw wild parties here. The last thing I want is to have a bunch of people at my place trashing it.”

“So you were joking.”

He sat on the loveseat across from the sofa. “You need to work on your sense of humor, Savannah.”

She bristled. “I have a sense of humor.”

“Do you?” He smiled behind his glass.

She decided at that moment that he was mean and she’d no longer have fantasies about him. She was cured.

“So, now what do you do with the rest of your day?”

“Since it’s before the season starts, I might play some video games until it’s time to go out.”

She grabbed her phone. “Too early to go out. So you’ll just hang out and play games?”

He reached over and took a binder from the coffee table. “No. Since I’m with a new team this year I have to learn the playbook. I need to study.”

She gave him a critical look. “Really.”

“Yeah, really. You don’t walk onto the field knowing every play. But if you’d rather play some games…”

“No, by all means. Do whatever it is you do. I have work of my own to do. I won’t get in your way.”

He opened the binder and started reading. She got out her phone and checked her email. After answering several, she pulled out her laptop, typed up some reports and made a few notes. She looked up occasionally to find Cole’s brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t deviate as he went over page after page of the playbook. Not once, but three times.

She gave him credit for being thorough.

“How long does it take to learn the playbook?” she asked.

He didn’t look up at her. “A while. I need to know every play.”

“And there are a lot.”

He finally glanced up at her. “Yeah.”

She laid her work down next to her. “You work hard at your job.”

“Yes.”

“You want to be appreciated for what you do.”

“On the field. Not off.”

“Then why is so much attention paid to what you do off the field?”

He laid the book down and focused on her. “Wish I knew the answer to that.”

Interesting. She sensed the frustration in his voice. Maybe there was more to Cole than she thought. But that remained to be seen. They were only in the beginning stages. He was charming, no doubt. Polite enough, but he obviously had serious issues with his temper. She’d glimpsed that earlier, and she barely knew him.

But she knew enough that she wanted to know more. For the time being, she left him alone so he could do his work. She dug into her briefcase and did her own, and a few hours passed before Cole rose and told her it was time to get dressed.

“I figured we’d get something to eat before we went out. It could be a long night.”

He gave her use of his bedroom to change and freshen up her makeup, grabbing his clothes to change in one of the other rooms.

When she came out, he was waiting for her in the living room. Her breath caught. Dressed in black slacks and a black button-down shirt, he looked sexy. Compelling. And utterly dangerous to her already fragile libido.

He smiled at her. “You look sexy, Peaches.”

She couldn’t help the tingle at the nickname. “You should call me Savannah. I’m not your date or your girlfriend.”

“It annoys you.”

“It doesn’t annoy me. It’s just unprofessional.”

“Okay. Savannah. Or should I refer to you as Ms. Brooks? Or Miss Brooks? Or is it Mrs. Brooks?”

She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re being annoying.”

He laughed. “Let’s roll, Sa-van-nah.”

He’d enunciated every syllable of her name. Slowly. She might prefer the nickname after all.

They went outside and Cole led her to his Lexus. Mid-range, not the cheapest, but not top-of-the-line, either.

“This car is nice,” she said after he climbed inside. “But for some reason I expected you to be driving…I don’t know. A Lamborghini or Ferrari.”

He laughed as he put the car in gear and drove away. “I don’t piss away my money on frivolous shit like cars. I’m on the road half the year anyway, so what’s the point in having an expensive car I don’t have time to drive?”

And again he surprised her.

They stopped for a nice dinner and then drove to the club. Though she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—something high-end, in the downtown area, maybe? This wasn’t it. The club was in a nondescript tan brick building. It looked more like an office building than a nightclub, and if it wasn’t for the ostentatious blinking sign proclaiming it Club Caress, she’d never have known it was a hot spot for the twenty- and thirty-something crowd.

And a hot spot it must have been, because the parking lot was full.

Cole pulled up out front and grinned at the valet.

“Hey, Mark,” he said, tossing his keys as he rounded the vehicle.

“What’s up, Cole?”

He held out his arm for her, and they went inside.

It was pitch-black, except for all the crazy lights, and the noise was earsplitting. She felt the heavy beat of the music in her chest as they made their way through the crowd, and it didn’t take long for Savannah to realize that Cole knew everyone here. People waved and called out his name, and women shot evil looks in her direction.

Clearly, he was a popular guy.

He slipped his hand in hers when the crowd swelled around them. Cole led her through the mix of people standing in their way. Fortunately, he was like Moses and the oglers were like the Red Sea, because they parted to let them through to the bar.

The bar was something to behold. Sleek and a shiny, polished black, it had to be fifty feet long. Colorful, neon backlit bottles glowed in rows as high as the ceiling. It was a true work of art.

“Take a seat,” he said, and she shifted onto one of the cushioned bar stools.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“Sparkling water would be fine for me.”

He lifted two fingers and a female bartender with short red hair and beautiful, full lips came over.

“Riley. What’s up?”

“Not much, Kara. How’s it going tonight?”

“Busier than a one-armed paper hanger. What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a double shot of Patron Silver. The lady wants sparkling water.”

She nodded. “You got it.”

Kara served up Cole’s shot and poured Savannah’s drink into a glass, leaving her the bottle.

“Thank you,” Savannah said.

“You’re welcome, honey.”

“You gonna run a tab?”

Cole nodded and slid Kara his credit card. He downed his drink in one swallow. She poured him another shot, then went on her way, but not before another bartender, this one a brunette with cl**vage that made Savannah jealous, came by.

“Hey, babe. Haven’t seen you for a few days,” she said.

“I’ve been busy.”

She reached across the bar and squeezed his hand. “Don’t be so busy. Miss you around here.”

The woman cut a glare to Savannah, then sauntered off.

“One of your many girlfriends?” Savannah asked.

Cole downed his shot, which was replaced right away by a tall glass of what she assumed was ice water. That Kara was efficient.

He smiled at Savannah. “Lulu is a friend.”

“She doesn’t like me being here.”

“She’s protective. I get a lot of women hanging on me, trying to get something from me. Lulu watches out for me.”

“So, she’s like your bodyguard.”

“Not exactly. But I’ve helped her out in the past. She thinks she owes me the same.”

Savannah had no idea what that meant. Helped her out how? Financially? Or did he beat up an ex-boyfriend for her? It was none of her business, really, she was just curious, especially since Lulu kept shooting scathing looks her way, and it was the kind of look a woman gave another woman when said first woman was trying to move in on the other’s boyfriend.

Maybe Cole was unaware of how Lulu felt about him.

And maybe Savannah needed to watch her back tonight, especially considering Lulu wasn’t the only one giving her looks that might kill. Cole was obviously a regular here, and several women stopped by to hug him or kiss him on the cheek. They lingered only long enough to say hello once they saw Savannah, but they glanced contemptuously at Savannah as they walked away.

“I’m not very popular here,” she said as he hugged one of his many admirers and took his seat next to her.

He frowned. “What?”

“Your female friends are shooting daggers at me.”

He scanned the crowd. “No, they’re not.”

She shook her head and turned around to face the bar. “From your friend Lulu to every woman who’s come up to greet you. Every single one of them has given me a look that would drop me dead to the floor if it had a weapon attached to it. Obviously you’re very sought after.”

“Nah. They’re just my friends.”

“Maybe from your perspective. Not theirs. Open your eyes, Cole. These women are in love with you.”

He snorted.

“Okay, fine. They’re at least in seriously heavy lust. And they don’t appreciate that you’re not here solo tonight.”

Cole had no idea where Savannah was getting her ideas. These were his party friends, his drinking buddies, and his dance partners. None of them were girlfriends. While it was true he never brought a date here, he never made any promises to any of these women that would give them hope of being exclusive. So why would they be pissed that he brought Savannah?

But as he sat and talked to Savannah, he kept his gaze on the women hovering around them.

She was right. They weren’t happy. Whenever he happened to glance at them, they were all smiles. But as soon as he turned away, they folded their arms and gave Savannah the death glare.

Huh. Who knew? He tried to be honest with them and let them know how the game was played.

Maybe they hadn’t been listening.

“Let’s dance,” he said to Savannah.

Her eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” He held out his hand.

She shook her head. “Remember what I told you about this not being a date? I’m merely here to observe.”

“Good.” He took her by the waist and lifted her off the bar stool, then grabbed her hand. “You can observe me on the dance floor.”

She narrowed her gaze at him. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”

“Absolutely. I’m not that kind of guy, Savannah.”

She sighed and moved in closer to him on the crowded dance floor. The music was loud, the beat gyrating, and Cole got into watching Savannah dance.

She had moves, and once she relaxed and got into the music, she could shake her h*ps just right.

His objective in getting her on the dance floor was to shake loose some of his groupies. Now that he knew they were getting possessive, he wanted to put an end to it, let them know that when he was here with a lady, they needed to go about their business and find their own fun. It was one thing when he came to the club as a single. Then it was a free-for-all and he didn’t mind choosing one woman after another to dance and party with.

But them claiming ownership of him at the club? His life didn’t work that way. He was a free agent and no woman was going to put a claim on him. If he wanted to bring a date—even though Savannah wasn’t really a date—then he’d damn well do that.

Except he wasn’t checking out the other women to see if they’d found other amusement. He was concentrating on Savannah, on the skintight dress she wore and the way it hiked up on her legs whenever she raised her arms over her head and swiveled around in a fast circle. She got his blood pumping, and when the next song slowed things down, he couldn’t resist sliding his arm around her and drawing her close.