took her hand in her own and squeezed it. “Sure.”
“Well,” Charles said, filling his voice with as much false bravado as he could muster, “since the girls are off to the spa, what do you boys say to getting a few drinks? I know a great place.” He shot Brent an arrogant smile.
The man immediately reacted—a grin split his face, but his voice was casual. “Might as well.”
Keep trying to play it cool, Brent. With any luck, this will all be over tonight.
Brent proved not only happy to find the “local establishment” was a gentleman’s club, but ecstatic. And Charles had to grudgingly admit to himself that this was a good plan, even if he’d rather be getting his fangs pulled than hang out with Brent in a club full of scantily clad women.
He could press Brent for information about Alice—and maybe figure out if he was making the threats—and help out Rachel. Cole had begged off, saying he had to get some file off before the night was through. Charles suspected that, in reality, Cole’s tastes were quite different from his best friend’s. Then again, might be that he was reading too much into the man. Assigning him positive character traits Brent’s minion didn’t actually possess. His refusal wasn’t suspicious, but Charles made a mental note to search his room at the first opportunity.
But there was no danger of reading too much into Brent. The second they stepped through the door into the upscale club, he was slapping Charles’s back and smiling and chatting in a way he hadn’t done since they’d arrived in the quaint little overpriced ski town. When he could drag his eyes away from the women, that was.
In the midst of the lounge, surrounded by scents both floral and candy-sweet, Brent opened up. Just as Charles had hoped.
“I tell you what, Charles. Watching a woman plan a wedding is ridiculous.” He waved for another bourbon from the cocktail waitress, eyes locked on a dancer on the stage, even as he spoke to Charles. “I get it. Not like I want some shabby affair. But ever since we went to that cruise ship wedding of my brother’s, her focus has been insane. I mean, come on. What’s the damn rush?”
“It’s not as if a man wants to say those vows any sooner than he has to,” Charles offered, handing the waitress another bill for their drinks. If getting Brent drunk was what he needed to do to get him to hurry up and step out of line already, then that’s what he’d do. Besides, if he plied Brent with enough alcohol, maybe he’d say something about threatening Alice, then fall into some woman’s arms. Wouldn’t that be convenient? Two birds, one stone. And his mission here would be done. He could head home, secure in the knowledge that he’d helped Rachel and helped to ensure Alice’s safety. He’d be a damn hero, twice over.
And he’d no longer have an excuse to spend time with Rachel.
Something twisted in his stomach, and he shook off the thought.
“Exactly!” Brent said. “You know what I mean.” His voice lowered, and his gaze finally locked on Charles for half a second. “Didn’t look like you were eager to tie yourself down today, either.”
Charles snorted, as if the idea of tying himself down was ridiculous. Not that it was a possibility, but the idea of it was oddly less amusing than it had been only a few short days ago. “I’m not keen to settle down anytime soon. Nothing wrong with Rachel. Not saying I won’t go there again, but not if I can find something…fresher in the meantime.” It actually pained him to say that. The realization was sobering.
Brent guffawed and Charles did his best not to cringe. “She’s such a little mouse. But I guess she’s probably a firecracker in the sack. She’s got that pissy attitude—full of fight.” He shook his head. “Whatever floats your boat, my man.” His gaze shifted back to the women around them. “Too bad there aren’t any topless joints around here. This is just a tease fest.” He downed
“Well,” Charles said, filling his voice with as much false bravado as he could muster, “since the girls are off to the spa, what do you boys say to getting a few drinks? I know a great place.” He shot Brent an arrogant smile.
The man immediately reacted—a grin split his face, but his voice was casual. “Might as well.”
Keep trying to play it cool, Brent. With any luck, this will all be over tonight.
Brent proved not only happy to find the “local establishment” was a gentleman’s club, but ecstatic. And Charles had to grudgingly admit to himself that this was a good plan, even if he’d rather be getting his fangs pulled than hang out with Brent in a club full of scantily clad women.
He could press Brent for information about Alice—and maybe figure out if he was making the threats—and help out Rachel. Cole had begged off, saying he had to get some file off before the night was through. Charles suspected that, in reality, Cole’s tastes were quite different from his best friend’s. Then again, might be that he was reading too much into the man. Assigning him positive character traits Brent’s minion didn’t actually possess. His refusal wasn’t suspicious, but Charles made a mental note to search his room at the first opportunity.
But there was no danger of reading too much into Brent. The second they stepped through the door into the upscale club, he was slapping Charles’s back and smiling and chatting in a way he hadn’t done since they’d arrived in the quaint little overpriced ski town. When he could drag his eyes away from the women, that was.
In the midst of the lounge, surrounded by scents both floral and candy-sweet, Brent opened up. Just as Charles had hoped.
“I tell you what, Charles. Watching a woman plan a wedding is ridiculous.” He waved for another bourbon from the cocktail waitress, eyes locked on a dancer on the stage, even as he spoke to Charles. “I get it. Not like I want some shabby affair. But ever since we went to that cruise ship wedding of my brother’s, her focus has been insane. I mean, come on. What’s the damn rush?”
“It’s not as if a man wants to say those vows any sooner than he has to,” Charles offered, handing the waitress another bill for their drinks. If getting Brent drunk was what he needed to do to get him to hurry up and step out of line already, then that’s what he’d do. Besides, if he plied Brent with enough alcohol, maybe he’d say something about threatening Alice, then fall into some woman’s arms. Wouldn’t that be convenient? Two birds, one stone. And his mission here would be done. He could head home, secure in the knowledge that he’d helped Rachel and helped to ensure Alice’s safety. He’d be a damn hero, twice over.
And he’d no longer have an excuse to spend time with Rachel.
Something twisted in his stomach, and he shook off the thought.
“Exactly!” Brent said. “You know what I mean.” His voice lowered, and his gaze finally locked on Charles for half a second. “Didn’t look like you were eager to tie yourself down today, either.”
Charles snorted, as if the idea of tying himself down was ridiculous. Not that it was a possibility, but the idea of it was oddly less amusing than it had been only a few short days ago. “I’m not keen to settle down anytime soon. Nothing wrong with Rachel. Not saying I won’t go there again, but not if I can find something…fresher in the meantime.” It actually pained him to say that. The realization was sobering.
Brent guffawed and Charles did his best not to cringe. “She’s such a little mouse. But I guess she’s probably a firecracker in the sack. She’s got that pissy attitude—full of fight.” He shook his head. “Whatever floats your boat, my man.” His gaze shifted back to the women around them. “Too bad there aren’t any topless joints around here. This is just a tease fest.” He downed
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