Page 30 of Lawless in Leather

“He can look all he wants,” Raina said. “Now, focus on the routine please.”

“Sure,” Marly said with another grin. “Easy for me to focus. Malachi Coulter isn’t angling to get me into his bed.”

“He isn’t—” Raina started to protest but then she heard the cue from the guy talking in her headset, and a second later the opening bars of “Send Me an Angel” started to boom over the speaker system. She stepped out of Marly’s way and watched as the entire line of dancers snapped into position, not a wing out of place.

“Break a leg,” she muttered as they started their slow walk out onto the field. And then she sat back to watch the show.

It had gone pretty well. At least she thought it had.

The fans had been pretty enthusiastic and none of the dancers had killed herself with her wings, so all in all, pretty good.

She’d balked on the invitation to go up to the owners’ suite though. For one thing she hadn’t really thought about bringing respectable clothes with her because she was driving straight to Madame R’s after she was done with the performance. So she was in yoga pants and her favorite pair of foot-pampering trainers with a simple black tunic top and long red cardigan thrown on over them. Not ratty but hardly what you’d wear to hobnob with millionaires.

So she’d overseen the girls cleaning up and changing and helped stow all the sets of wings in the lockers that had been designed for them. They were all invited to a postgame event—an invitation also extended to her, but one she’d already declined—so they all primped madly and she had to sit there and listen to them talking about which of the players was cutest. Which had prompted her to remind them about Mal’s warning about getting involved with a player.

At one point Marly came over, bringing with her a waft of freshly applied perfume and hair spray, and sat down next to her. “You’re wasting your time hiding down here, you know. I heard him invite you up to the box.”

“I am not interested in Malachi Coulter,” Raina said.

“Yes, I could see that by how you went all tongue-tied and pink when he said hello to you in the tunnel.”

Raina looked around, hoping desperately that no one else had overheard. “I don’t date men I work for.”

“You’re not really working for him.”

“He owns a third of this team. Of this bloody stadium. So yes, I’m working for him.”

“Not forever, though,” Marly said. “And not full-time. So it shouldn’t be a problem. My grandma always said to make hay while the sun shines. And that man is worth making hay with.”

“Not gonna happen,” Raina said. “He’s not a good long-term prospect. Not for someone like me.”

“Maybe.” Marly shrugged. “But think of how much fun you could have in the short term.”

Raina narrowed her eyes at her. “Don’t you need to flat-iron your hair or something? You gals need to look good at the party so the press has someone to take pretty pictures of. So why don’t you worry about finding someone to make hay with yourself?”

“Not interested in a ballplayer,” Marly said. “That’s almost as bad as hooking up with an actor. Athletes are all about themselves. I like a man who’s all about me.”

“I didn’t mean one of the players. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of guys there who aren’t on the team,” Raina said. “They’ll be inviting all the season ticket holders and sponsors—all kinds of men.”

“Which raises the question of why, if you’re really not interested in the boss man, you’re not coming along.”

“I have this minor detail called a business to run. You girls aren’t the only dancers I’ve got to keep in order.”

“You can’t miss one night?”

“Not a Saturday. Saturday is our biggest night. I emcee the show.”

“Well, your loss.”

“I’ll survive,” Raina said. “It’s not like I’ve never been to a party before.” She had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity. She’d seen pictures from the fund-raiser the Saints had held at the Paragon earlier in the year. It had looked divine, with a steampunk-meets-angels theme that was right up her alley. Maggie had told her some of her plans for tonight and they sounded pretty good, too.

But hey, Saturday nights at the club were also a blast. And there, she wouldn’t do anything stupid like drink too much champagne and throw herself at Malachi Coulter’s feet. She glanced over at the screen in the corner of the room that was showing the game. “Hey, it looks like they’re actually winning,” she said. “I might sneak out and watch the end of the game. You want to come with me?”

Marly swept a hand down at the very short, very tight vivid-blue dress she’d squeezed herself into. “Not exactly designed for sitting in the bleachers.”

Raina laughed. “I guess not. Well, I’ve got my phone, so text me if anyone needs anything. I’m staying for the press conference after the game, and then I’m out of here.” Maggie had promised that Raina wouldn’t have to say anything at the press conference but had insisted she come along in case anyone needed more info about the Angels. Maybe she should take Marly with her. The sight of her in that dress would distract the press from any negative things they might be planning to say about the performance or the squad.

But she’d worry about that later. Right now, she was going to see if she could find an empty seat and eat a hot dog and watch some ball.

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