Taming the VIP Playboy / Promoted To Wife?. Katherine GarberaЧитать онлайн книгу.
with a grin. He hopped up and Nate moved back in the conga line to make room for him. The music swelled and Jen snaked through the room gathering up many of the people who all wanted to say they danced with Hutch Damien.
Hutch was a bona fide Hollywood superstar who’d started his career as a teenage rapper, but not with that hard-edged gangster rap—more of a sophisticated and fun sound that had him climbing the pop charts. He had movie-star good looks that he capitalized on to make films that people loved. And he was a genial guy.
Nate and he went way back to before his playing days when they’d both been rich boys at prep school. Since that image didn’t jibe with Hutch’s public persona of a rapper who made good, they seldom mentioned that fact to anyone.
Jen led them into the middle of the dance floor and then moved off to the side as the music ended and the deejay played “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira.
Nate left T.J. and Hutch on the dance floor as a group of women came up to dance with them and probably grab a picture or two on their cell phones.
Jen was nowhere to be seen forty-five minutes later. He sent a message to Cam checking in to see if there was anything he needed from him. Then he tweeted about the club, talking up Hutch and T.J. on the dance floor.
He pocketed his phone and sought out his friends in the VIP section. He quickly found Hutch and T.J. and sat down with them. But Nate couldn’t stay up here all night; he needed to make sure that there were celebrities throughout the club.
Nighttime was his busiest time but he loved it.
“Where you going?” Hutch asked him when he got up.
“We have a band performing downstairs.”
“Not until ten,” Hutch said, glancing pointedly at his watch.
Nate grinned sheepishly at his friend.
“There’s a girl …” T.J. said.
“There’s always a girl for our Nate.”
“Yes, there is always a girl. I think you’ll like her.”
“So she’s for me?”
“No,” Nate said. “She’s mine.”
“Fair enough, who is she?” Hutch asked.
T.J. took a sip of his rum and Coke and leaned over the edge of the table, his eyes skimming the dance floor. Jen was in the middle doing a flamenco dance. “There she is. The dark-haired one dressed in red.”
“Nice,” Hutch said. “She works here?”
“Yes,” Nate said, leaning back against the padding of the banquette. “Dance teacher.”
“What’s her name?” Hutch asked.
“Jen,” Nate said.
The fact that he was going to bring her up here said more than he wanted it to. His friends understood that he rarely invited someone who wasn’t a part of their group to join them. They were the same way. But Jen was different.
“I like her,” T.J. said. “She’s funny and knows how to move her body. And this one got jealous when she touched me.”
“I am not jealous of you,” Nate said.
That was one thing he’d never been. Even when he had been injured and had to quit playing ball he’d never envied those who still played. He didn’t waste time dreaming about what might have been. He lived his life to the fullest and if that sometimes meant he had to course correct then he did it.
“I know, man, just joshing with you. Go get your girl before she disappears,” T.J. said.
Nate glanced back at the dance floor. Sure enough, Jen and her assistant Alison were taking bows and leaving the club. For the night, he knew.
Nate stood up and walked through throngs of people in the club. He stopped to sign autographs for Yankees fans and posed for pictures with scantily clad women. He kept his smile in place even though he was impatient and wanted to get to Jen.
Cam texted him that there was some kind of problem with the guest list and Nate knew he needed to get down and take care of it, but he was afraid to miss Jen.
Afraid?
He shook his head and began making his way to the front desk instead of waiting for her. He walked down the grand staircase and looked at all the people crowding the dance floor and tried to take some satisfaction from it. This was his life. Luna Azul—the blue moon. Which had been the name of their father’s boat when they’d been growing up.
They spent long lazy summer days on that yacht, just his dad and his brothers. Away from their shrew mother’s demanding voice. Away from the shore where everyone wanted a piece of Jackson Stern, the PGA golf phenom. Away from the real world on the ocean where they could just be themselves.
And Nate had thought naming the club after that childhood oasis had been a stroke of genius, but then Cam was good about doing those kinds of things. Finding a connection between the past and the present.
He got to the VIP desk just as he caught a whiff of a familiar flowery scent. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Jen standing there.
“Sorry about this. I was told my sister and her friend would be able to get in tonight if I left their names here.”
“Of course they can,” he said, realizing that this was fate. Jen and he were destined to spend this night together.
Jen had been trying to avoid Nate. Having his hands on her hips during the conga had made her too aware of him. And she knew that she was on the verge of doing something stupid once again so, of course, there’d be a problem with Marcia and her friend getting into the club tonight. And it seemed fitting that Nate would be the one man they’d call to fix it.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again.
“It’s not a problem,” Nate said. He turned to Marcia and smiled at her. “I’m Nate Stern.”
“Marcia Miller, and this is my friend Courtney.”
“Pleasure, ladies. Give me a few minutes and I will get this straightened out,” he said.
He walked back over to the VIP desk and Jen wanted to disappear now while she still could. This was embarrassing. She didn’t want to bother him.
“Is this okay?” Marcia asked.
“Yes, it’s fine. Nate will take care of it.”
“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Courtney said.
“I won’t,” Jen said. She hoped she was right. The club policy was that two comp tickets a month were issued to the employees and she hadn’t ever used hers. So she knew that she was technically in the right.
“It’s fine,” she said again.
Marcia reached over and rubbed her arm. “Nate Stern? Is he your boss?”
“Sort of. You know who Nate is, Marcia, don’t pretend you don’t.”
“I do. It’s odd that he seems to be handling operational things. I thought he was a playboy.”
Jen shrugged. “That’s his image and it works for the club but he’s doesn’t strike me as someone who’s just loafing around waiting for a free ride.”
“That’s reassuring,” Marcia said.
“I know it is.”
“How do you know him?” Courtney asked.
“He was in my dance class tonight … one of his friends had signed up and I guess he tagged along to make sure it went smoothly.”
“Has he done that before?” Marcia asked.
“No and I’ve had bigger celebs than T. J. Martinez in the class.”
“You