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Pasting on a smile, Alyssa turned away. Hopefully, Luc wouldn’t dig any further into that topic. She’d have to keep playing it casual. He wasn’t ready to hear that he’d rocked her to her core the night they’d spent together, that she’d loved his toe-curlingly intimate conversation.

As they approached the club, Alyssa filed the memory away. In silence, Luc stopped the car and shoved it into park. She reached for the door handle, and he grabbed her wrist, staying her.

“We’re good together sexually, God knows. But that’s it.”

A dozen comebacks ran through her head, most on the theme that he couldn’t truly know his statement to be fact because they hadn’t tried anything beyond sex. But contradicting him would only make him more resistant. And that was counterproductive. She had to keep playing her trump card.

“I never said I was talking about anything but sex.”

Before he could respond, she jerked from his grasp and exited the SUV. She burst into the club through the back door, Luc at her heels.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not being completely honest?”

Refusing to allow herself to be rattled, she kept walking. “I can’t answer that. Nor do I have time to try. I have a business to run. If you’d like to go back to the house, I’ll have Tyler give me a ride home when the club is closed.”

Just then, her bouncer approached, wearing two days’ growth of beard, a khaki shirt with Bettie Page in a bikini and fishnet stockings, and a mischievous smile. He stepped up beside her, slung his arm around her waist, hand caressing her hip. Then he buried his face in her neck and inhaled.

“Mmm. I’ll be more than happy to give you a ride, baby.”

Alyssa raised a brow at Tyler. But this shit was par for his course.

Luc gritted his teeth. “I’ll wait for you and take you home.”

Since showing annoyance at Tyler’s display would not deter him, she simply smiled. “Great. I need to make sure everyone’s got the right costumes and props. Last night was a mess. Thank God most everyone was too drunk to notice.”

Tyler wrapped his arm around her again. “Wait. I came back here to tell you that your least favorite asshole is outside with his friends.”

“Primpton? Awwww . . .” She sighed. “What does he want now? Obviously attention. What’s his cause du jour?”

“The usual. Shutting you down in the name of morality.”

“This is the city councilman?” Luc asked. “He protests your business?”

“With revolting regularity.” She leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about. The restaurant’s mock service was tomorrow. Luc was surprisingly edgy. She had to be at the top of her game to get his attention. What she didn’t need today was Primpton giving her shit.

“What do you want to do, baby?” Tyler asked softly.

He knew this crap bothered her. He’d caught her alone and crying once after Primpton had publicly called her some really ugly names.

“Ignore him and hope he’ll go away or risk him swaying the public to boycott Bonheur?”

“That’s the big question.” Tyler smiled grimly.

“What exactly does he do?” Luc asked.

“He’s just an ass.” The last thing she wanted was for Luc to see an elected official calling her a whore. It would cement that as truth in his mind.

“It’s worse today,” Tyler admitted grimly. “He brought the local press with him.”

Damn it!
Fate had it in for her. “He’s trying to scare people away from the restaurant’s opening.”

“That would be my guess.”

“He hasn’t had any luck in shutting down the club yet,” Luc pointed out. “Maybe no one is listening to him.”

“He’s got his followers, and he’s gaining power. Every time Primpton stages one of these protests, it hits me in the bank account. The married, over-thirty crowd is one of the most lucrative, and I’m guessing that men who’ve gotten an earful from their wives stay away, at least for a while. I recover eventually, but I worry the restaurant could be different. I’d been hoping for crossover business, but now . . .”

“You mean from men who might take their wives to Bonheur, hoping to see you?”

Luc caught on quick.

“Me or some of the other girls. Several of the dancers have elected to give up the stage and wait tables.”

“Isn’t that a pay cut?”

“Absolutely. But some of them are smart enough to know they can’t dance around a pole for the rest of their lives, so they’re waiting tables to make ends meet and going to school during their off-hours.” She shrugged. “It’s tough, but doable. If I did it, anyone can.”

Surprise crossed Luc’s face. “You went to college while . . . dancing?”

God, did he think she had no other aspiration than to take off her clothes? She lifted her chin. “Double major. Business admin and communications. Last year, I finished an MBA. I’m not just a pole dancer, Mr. Traverson; I’m a business owner. It behooves me to know what the hell I’m doing. Now, I’m off to discourage Primpton.”

Alyssa turned toward the stairs, bristling. She shouldn’t be surprised that Luc didn’t see beyond her sexy façade. The first time they’d met, she’d been wearing a G-string and pasties. She’d had little opportunity to improve her image with him since.

“Isn’t the city councilman outside?” Luc looked confused.

“Yes, but do you think I’m going to meet the man vilifying me in a mini and garters?”

LUC watched Alyssa, fixated, the front of his jeans expanding, as she disappeared to the private upper level of Sexy Sirens. His head was spinning.

A double major?
And
a master’s degree? To say he’d had no idea would be a colossal understatement. He’d suspected that behind the woman’s sharp blue eyes was a lot of intelligence. The ambition surprised him. Business owner or not, that was a lot of education for a stripper.

But now she was also a restaurant owner.

Was Bonheur part of some life change/self-improvement plan? And what about her waitstaff?

Though it chafed him, Luc turned to Tyler. The bouncer stared at the empty stairs, his tongue virtually hanging out of his mouth. Luc knew the bouncer wanted her. Hell, despite Alyssa’s protests, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were lovers. But Tyler’s expression said he admired Alyssa, had feelings for her. Was it mutual?

A sudden pang of jealousy smacked Luc right between his pectorals. He fisted his hands. Could she actually love the mouthy slab of beef?

It didn’t matter. He had questions . . . and Tyler had answers. Whether Tyler and Alyssa were burning up the sheets or having an affair of the heart was none of his concern—even if it bugged the hell out of him.

“Where did Alyssa go to school?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

Luc shrugged, playing casual. “Curious.”

“LSU, Lafayette campus. She graduated with honors, too. She’s smart in a way that’s so fucking sexy. It’s hard not to think with your dick when she’s around.” Tyler pierced him with a laser stare. “Isn’t that right?”

All too true . . . “And the waitstaff at Bonheur? Are they all in school and elected to wait tables?”

“Most. Every few months, Alyssa gathers the girls to talk about life after the pole. If they want to get an education, she helps them find tuition assistance and apply for scholarships. She encourages them to make more of themselves. A couple of the girls just want to keep better hours so they have more time with their kids.”

Wow
. He hadn’t seen the caring side of Alyssa. This news surely brought her into a whole new dimension. “Couldn’t these women make more money stripping and . . . taking customers on the side?”

“Turning tricks?” Tyler raised a brow. “You’re damn lucky Alyssa didn’t hear that. She’d skin you alive and boil you in oil. That shit doesn’t happen here. Period. ’Course she can’t stop a dancer willing to entertain customers after hours and off premises, but she usually ends up firing them since they’re often trouble.”

The answer floored Luc.
Educated and principled?
Had he failed to see past their scorching sex and her short skirts to the woman underneath?

As much as he hated to admit it, yes.

But did it matter? As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t take her. She wasn’t a mommy candidate. He couldn’t even see her as someone’s
wife
. Alyssa would be impossible to tame, and Luc wanted a woman who would be content to stay home and focus on children. He didn’t see her as that type.

But her values went deeper than he’d believed. She worked damn hard and deserved a break.

“You said Primpton is out front?”

Tyler smiled tightly. “With all the local press. Someone needs to stop this prick. She doesn’t need him, especially now.”

“Because the restaurant is opening soon?”

“That, and her mother. Alyssa just hasn’t been the same since the woman died.”

Died?
“When?”

“Two weeks ago. Damn shame.”

Though they still lived in Florida, and Luc didn’t see his parents often, they talked frequently. He loved them very much and would be devastated if something happened to them. Certainly, he’d be in no shape to open a new business.

“They were close?”

“No.”

Tyler’s answer was both automatic and adamant. And his face said he refused to say any more on the subject.

“So Primpton’s latest stunt is one she doesn’t need.” Tyler gritted his teeth. “It’s going to bug the shit out of her.”

Not if Luc could help it.

A few minutes later, Alyssa emerged into weak sunlight. The muggy September air had an oppressive feeling, and she was glad she’d decided to forgo curling her hair. In this humidity, her do would be undone in no time flat. Plus, the sedate French twist looked classy.

With a hand above her brow, she shielded her eyes and scanned the sidewalk.
There
. Primpton and his oh-so-moral followers stood on the sidewalk mere feet away with signs and angry expressions. Among his followers were two men who had watched her onstage last night, then paid Sadie for a private lap dance. She arched a brow at them. They looked away—but held up their hateful signs.

Of course. Outside the walls of this club, she didn’t exist as a real person. Just a whore.

Flashbulbs went off and a chorus of voices spoke over one another, all shouting. She frowned and looked at the cluster of people. Reporters. Then she gasped.

They were all gathered around Luc.

Primpton yelled at the press. “There’s the jezebel! Take her picture. Tell the good people of Lafayette not to glorify a woman who reveals and sells her body to strangers.”

Alyssa sighed. More of the same spiel. Didn’t this moron ever get bored? Or give a shit about facts? Customers
never
got laid at Sexy Sirens.

At the councilman’s shout, cameras swung in her direction. Shutters clicked. Alyssa hid behind her sunglasses and opened her mouth to address the reporters with her prepared press release in hand.

Instead, Luc spoke. “Thank you for coming today. I’m excited to be the guest chef at Bonheur. I have no doubt it will become Lafayette’s premier fine-dining experience. I’ve personally overseen this week’s menu, infusing it with the flavors from my books. You’ll be in for a real treat. From décor to food and wine, it’s top notch.”

“How did you get involved with Bonheur?” called one reporter.

Alyssa bit her lip. Of all the questions the press could ask, that wasn’t one he could answer honestly without making her bad public opinion worse.

“Ms. Devereaux and I have mutual friends and have been acquainted for some months. She was kind enough to assist me with a matter not long ago. When the opportunity to repay her kindness arose, I happily said yes.”

“What sort of matter?” shouted one reporter. “Was it sexual?”

“It was a family matter, actually,” Luc lied smoothly. “She helped me settle something between my cousin and me. She’s quite sage. And that shows in everything she’s created at Bonheur. The more I’ve been involved with the restaurant and its staff, the more impressed I’ve become.”