Playing to Win

was twenty-one—barely—he was still too old for her.
    Me-ow, Savannah.
    Oh, shut up. She was merely making an observation.
    “You’ll never have him.”
    Savannah dragged her gaze away from the dance floor. Lulu stood next to her, arms folded, a smug smile on her face.
    “Excuse me?”
    Lulu nodded toward the dance floor. “Cole. You’ll never have him.”
    “Oh, honey. I don’t want him.”
    Lulu seemed at a loss for words for a few seconds. “Then what are you doing here with him?”
    Savannah gave her a sweet smile. “None of your business.”
    The woman leaned in. “Everything about Cole is my business.”
    “Apparently not, or he would have told you what I was doing here with him.”
    Lulu’s lips tightened. She stared back at Cole like a jealous lover.
    Another one Cole was clueless about. He needed to pay attention to his women.
    “You’re in love with him?”
    Lulu shot her a glare. “I am not.”
    “Sweetie, you need to do a better job of disguising your feelings. It’s written all over your face.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s just my friend and I hate that these girls throw themselves at him.”
    “When you’d rather he throw himself at you?”
    “No. No . He’s nice to them. Too nice. He doesn’t see that they’re using him. I just want to protect him.”
    Savannah swiveled on the bar stool. Lulu’s cheeks were stained a dark pink.
    Maybe she’d been wrong. Lulu wasn’t in love with Cole. It wasn’t jealousy she saw on Lulu’s face; it was something else. Anger? Frustration? So maybe it was more of a little-sister-worship kind of thing. She really was trying to be protective.
    “I don’t think he needs protecting. He’s a big boy and capable of making his own decisions.”
    “You don’t understand. He tries to please everyone. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
    That wasn’t what the media reports said. The file she had indicated Cole was all about pleasing himself. And yet he seemed to have a lot of friends. Not all of them were women, either. After the dance he extricated himself from his harem and stopped along the way to jaw with a few men who had tables near the dance floor. He stopped, sat, and the waitress brought him drinks—water, she noticed—and he laughed with them. Talking football, no doubt. A crowd would gather, guys again.
    So not only did women find him desirable, but men wanted to hang out with him, too. Not surprising. Cole had that charisma thing going for him. He was open and approachable and didn’t walk into a club like this acting like a celebrity, even though they treated him like one. He was relaxed and friendly and very charming.
    And yet he had this terrible image as a troublemaker. Whereverhe was, fights broke out and he was typically painted as the instigator. He had a rep for having a bad attitude, for acting like a jerk.
    Where was that guy? Because so far tonight she hadn’t seen him. After he finished talking to the men, a couple of the girls pulled him onto the dance floor. He went willingly, seeming to give enough attention to both women to keep them happy.
    “Shit.” Lulu scanned a couple men who’d entered through the front door.
    “What’s wrong?” Savannah asked.
    “Trouble.” Lulu brushed past her and headed toward Cole, insinuated herself into the middle of the dance party to whisper in his ear. He looked where Lulu motioned and frowned, said something to the girls, who nodded and walked away.
    Then he came toward her.
    “Let’s go,” he said.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Yeah. The media showed up.”
    She turned around and scanned the club. “Really? I don’t see anyone.”
    “That’s the idea. They don’t want you to notice them. But Lulu can spot them. They sneak in, hide their cameras and audio recording equipment. She’s smarter than they are, though. She knows all their faces.”
    He took her hand and led her toward the back of the club, down a narrow hallway toward the restrooms. He made a left into the manager’s office.
    “We’ll head out the back door through the alley,” Cole said.
    “Why not just go out the front door?”
    He stopped, turned to her. “You want your picture spread across the sports blogs and in the tabloids next week as my latest girlfriend?”
    “No, thank you.” That would not be good for her business.
    “Then let me do it my way.”
    She tugged on his hand. “Wait. Won’t they just follow us?”
    He grinned. “Peaches,