And yet he had this terrible image as a troublemaker. Wherever he 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, I’ve been at this awhile. I might get caught now and then, but I’m getting smarter at beating them at their own game.”
The manager’s door opened and one of the front door bouncers walked in. Similar in height to Cole, with the same dark hair, he nodded. “You ready?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Dave.”
“No problem. Kasey’s bringing your car around. I’ll meet you at IHOP in thirty.” Dave handed a set of keys to Cole, who gave his to Dave.
“Try not to break any speed limits.”
Dave laughed. “No guarantees.” He opened the door and dashed out. Savannah caught a glimpse of Cole’s Lexus parked right at the door. Dave dove in and took off in a hurry.
Savannah followed Dave’s exit. “The paparazzi will follow Dave, thinking that’s you in the car.”
“Yup.”
She turned to face him, realizing he still had hold of her hand. Jerking it away would be rude. “So now what?”
“We’ll wait here for a few, make sure they took the bait, then we’ll head out in Dave’s car.”
“You’ve done this before.”
He smiled down at her and her stomach fluttered. There was something about the intensity of his eyes.
“A few times.”
“Makes me wonder what you were escaping from.”
“Was I doing anything bad out there? Drunk and disorderly? Roughing up any women? Getting into fights?”
“No.”
He left it at that. Maybe he was right, and she was looking for something that wasn’t there in the first place.
“You’re good to go, Cole. They’re gone.”
She turned to see Lulu peeking her head in the door.
He let go of her hand and went over to Lulu. “Thanks for the heads-up, Lou.”
Lulu hugged him. “You know I always have your back. Dave’s truck is in the back of the lot.”
He opened the door for Savannah. “We’ll go out this way and around the side.”
Savannah smiled at Lulu, who gave her a nod, and Cole shut the door behind them.
Dave drove a beat-up truck on lifts, so Cole had to pick her up to put her into the seat. The engine roared to life with the dual-exhaust pipes choking out a rumble of noise. Savannah looked around, expecting someone to notice them.
No one did.
“Dave does drag racing on the weekends,” Cole explained as he pulled onto the main road. “He’s the perfect guy to take off in my car and lose the guys with the cameras.”
“I see. And you don’t worry about him behind the wheel in your car?”
He glanced at her. “No. I trust him.”
“You seem to trust a lot of people.”
He frowned. “What does that mean?”
“How did the media know you were going to be at the club tonight?”
“Someone at the club probably called them.”
“Not one of your friends, though.”
“Doubtful. They just want to party. The media showing up kills the party because they know I’ll leave.”
“But you don’t know that for sure. A lot of people want to be photographed with a celebrity. It brings them—at least to their minds—instant fame.”
“I trust the people I surround myself with.”
“Is this a club you frequent a lot?”
“Yeah. I know all the regulars.”
“How well do you know them?”
“Like I said…I see them there all the time.”