The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,63

and I had built our respective homes on one ovary.

Considering the four of us founders were weirder than we often appeared to the outside world—Daisy excluded, who was nothing if not wildly authentic, even in public—it shouldn’t have been a surprise that the Bluewater enclave had grown into a haven of the quirky and eclectic in Miami.

Which was probably why our nightclub had been renamed the Bluewater Disco at a town hall meeting earlier in the year. And sported an eight-foot carved parrot next to an equally massive rooster statue outside.

Why? Because Bluewater.

I parked my golf cart among the dozen or so already here. The faint thump of music carried from inside and a neon sign in the window announced the Bluewater Disco in shades of pink and electric blue.

“Are you ready to enjoy the best music ever made?” I asked.

“That’s debatable, but I think you could use a win, so I’ll just agree and say yes.”

“How magnanimous of you.” My eyes flicked up and down his large frame. His outfit should have been hideous, but he made it look so damn good.

He tilted his head slightly. “Cameron, am I your bodyguard tonight? Or your date?”

The hint of vulnerability in his voice made my breath catch. I knew if I answered wrong, I’d risk doing permanent damage to whatever was happening between us.

“Can the bodyguard take a night off for a date?”

He stepped closer and slipped his hands around my waist. “I’ll still be watching out for you.”

I nodded, smiling as he leaned down to brush my lips with a kiss.

God, my friends were going to go nuts. But fuck it. Jude made me happy.

I slipped my hand in his, twining our fingers together, and we went inside.

The Bluewater Disco had been transformed into a garish—and fabulous—parody of the nineteen-eighties. Brightly colored balloons decorated the bar and neon lights flashed over the dance floor. A vintage Ms. Pac Man game stood near the hall that led to the restrooms, and giant Rubik’s cubes provided seating and places to set drinks. An eighties tribute band played on the stage at the far end of the room.

I squeezed Jude’s hand. It was dark and the place was packed. It didn’t make me nervous—these were my friends and neighbors—but I noticed Jude visually marking the exits. I wondered what else was going on in that strategic brain of his.

“Do you need to do a lap to make sure it’s safe?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the music.

He squeezed my hand back. “Just stay with me.”

“I planned on it, big guy. Let’s go have some fun.”

Emily spotted us and waved. She’d gone all out with a shiny pink jacket—complete with shoulder pads—matching mini skirt, huge teal earrings, and blue eyeshadow that didn’t do anything to diminish her beauty. Her blond hair was teased high and she held a bright pink cocktail.

“You look amazing,” she said. “Wow, Jude. Nice outfit.”

Derek sauntered over, dressed in a more subdued version of eighties menswear—a pastel polo with the collar popped and a pair of well-tailored slacks. He took one look at Jude and burst out laughing.

“Jealous?” Jude asked.

“Dear god, no,” Derek said.

I slipped my hands around his waist, indulging in a little trace of his abs with my fingers. “I think he looks radical.”

Emily’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth popped open. I gave her a smug smile while Jude put his arm around me.

“Well,” Derek said, draping a casual arm around Emily’s shoulders. “Isn’t this interesting.”

Jude glanced down at me. “Drink?”

“Definitely.”

We had to pause for introductions every few feet on our way to the bar. It seemed like most of Bluewater was here. Jude met the secretive Mr. Joneses, who claimed to be retired business executives, but we had other suspicions. I half expected Jude to recognize one or both of them, but if they’d ever encountered each other in their murky pasts, none of them hinted at it.

Then it was three of the WWs, decked out in swaths of neon and cheap plastic jewelry. They fawned over Jude, complimenting his arms and his abs. Next came Mr. Zabrinski, one of our tech geniuses. I had to pry Jude away before we got roped into a lengthy and intricately detailed discussion on the benefits and dangers of artificial intelligence.

The band started another song—”Jessie’s Girl”—and the crowd cheered. We stopped again as Luna spun around in front of us, clasping her hands to her chest. She looked adorable in a slouchy pink shirt and