First Star I See Tonight (Chicago Stars #8) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,7
complete with blacked-out windows and a big ol’ hole in the roof. One thing he’d say for her, though . . . She was straightforward. She’d laid her crazy right out on the front lawn for all the world to see.
He needed to get back down to the club floor, but he stayed behind his desk. After two months in this business, his office still smelled strange—not of rubber and sweat—not of specially formulated pain compounds and chlorine-doused whirlpools. Instead, it carried the scent of paper and paint, of new upholstery and a computer printer cartridge. But as much as he missed those familiar smells, he wouldn’t let himself hold on to the past. Opening Spiral was his announcement to the world that he’d never become one more washed-up jock with nothing better to do than seal himself in an announcer’s booth and broadcast bullshit about plays he could no longer pull off himself. The nightclub business was his new turf, and Spiral was only the beginning. He intended to build himself an empire, and just like in football, failure wasn’t an option.
He turned back to his computer and Googled “Esmerelda Crocker.” Her green card had given her age as thirty-three, but she looked a lot younger. He flipped from one screen to the next and eventually found her name on an alumni list for London’s Middlesex University. No other information. And no photo to show that crazy-wide mouth, firm jaw, or those wily eyes almost the exact color of a blueberry Pop-Tart—eyes that demanded he jump into her crackpot world right along with her.
If he hadn’t been so pissed, he would have laughed at her offer to “sexually satisfy” him. He didn’t need any more crazy in his life. Besides, after eight years of seeing his name plastered all over the tabloids, he was on temporary hiatus from women.
He hadn’t intended to turn into a cliché—one more NFL quarterback with a beautiful Hollywood actress in his bed. He wouldn’t have, either, if he’d stuck with a single actress. But after that first relationship had fizzled due to conflicting schedules, too much publicity, and infidelity—hers, not his—he’d met another beautiful A-lister. And then another. And then one more after that.
In his defense, all four of those relationships had been with stars who were brainy as well as beautiful. He liked whip-smart, successful women who also happened to be heart-stoppingly beautiful. What man didn’t? And being an NFL quarterback gave him access to the cream of the crop. Now, however, all his laser-sharp attention was focused on growing a nightclub empire. Women brought too much drama, too much press, and too damned much perfume. If he was quarterback of the world, he’d outlaw the stuff. Women should smell like women.
Esmerelda hadn’t worn perfume, and with all her disguises, who knew what her hair looked like? But there was that interesting face and those shapely legs. Still, the whole episode was making the back of his neck itch exactly the same way it did right before he got blindsided.
***
Piper jerked off her wig and drove home from Spiral with one desperate scheme after another churning through her head. A different approach. A better disguise. But it wouldn’t take him long to see through both. If she didn’t come up with something quickly, she’d be on a one-way street back to a computer job in a cubicle, something she couldn’t abide thinking about. Her last job as a digital strategist for a local chain of auto parts stores had been interesting at first, but after the second year, boredom had begun to set in, and by the fifth year, she’d found herself dreaming of a zombie apocalypse.
Her father had denied her the career she was born for, working with him at Dove Investigations—or even working with one of his competitors, something he’d made certain didn’t happen. Everybody in the country knew him, and Duke Dove had put out the word. “Anybody who hires my little girl to do any investigating that doesn’t involve stayin’ at her computer is gonna have to deal with me.”
But Duke was dead, and she owned the business he hadn’t wanted her to have—the business she’d paid far too much to buy from her stepmother only to discover too late that Duke’s client list was woefully out-of-date, and her stepmother’s bookkeeping practices were, if not outright fraudulent, the next closest thing. Piper had bought little more than a name, but the name was precious to her, and she wouldn’t