Living a freelancer's life taught me to prep in record time. Twenty minutes after my chat with Monica, my cheeks and eyes were suitably enhanced, and I had arranged my honey blonde hair into a side French braid. Simple yet classy. Just the way I liked it.

Choosing the appropriate gear, however, took a little longer. I knew Psychotic wasn't picky about dress code if one made an effort, and since I preferred men to notice my face before my boobs, I opted for a white Gucci tee that left my cleavage out of it and paired it with my least worn-out jeans.

My phone read eleven thirty-five when I left my apartment building, which meant the clubs would just be heating up, while the temp outside was steadily dropping. Fortunately, I had never been bothered by the cold, and I didn't have to wait long before a cab appeared to take me to another night of greatness. Of course, I fully expected shit to hit the fan, but those were usually the nights I remembered most.

There was a significant line outside the club when I arrived. No surprise there, and I took my place at the back of the queue, feeling awkward about being without an escort. I called Monica to let her know where I was, and she apologized for not having any clout at Psychotic, which left me cursing my decision not to wear a shamelessly revealing top. It might have given me a chance with the bouncer.

As I waited, a black Porsche 911 pulled up to the valet stand and three guys climbed out, each one well-dressed and well-built. The kind of guys you'd expect to step out of a Porsche. The driver was a definite cutie, with dark, wavy hair that contrasted nicely against his fair skin, and almond-shaped eyes the color of black coffee. Definitely my idea of a hottie, and I gave myself license to gawk at him from my anonymous position in line. What I didn't expect was to have Mr. 911 single me out and shoot me a smile.

I also didn't expect him to wave his buddies into the club and walk toward me. On his way over, I continued my assessment. The guy was a good amount taller than me, but that wasn't difficult since I had only made it to five foot six, and his dark jeans and gray tee hugged his muscular body like a diving suit. I didn't mind that he was making the same assessment of me. Maybe I wouldn't have to wait that long, after all.

"Hi, I'm Colin." As he introduced himself, I caught a subtle twitch of his nose. Was he offended by my white musk body spray? It was the most subtle of all my fragrances.

"Reese," I offered back.

"Are you here alone, Reese?"

"I'm meeting a couple of girlfriends. They're already inside." I swallowed past the dryness in my throat. Although I couldn't explain why my tongue suddenly felt like sandpaper. Was it the fact that his eyes had not stopped dissecting me, or was I suspicious about why he had targeted me among the plethora of women in the queue? Was he trying to improve his odds of taking someone home with him? I was no stranger to that tactic, having used it myself on several occasions. Did I give off that vibe? Ugh.

"I can get you in without the wait. I know the doorman. Do you like to dance?" Colin's voice sounded like the open throttle of a motorcycle, and I imagined what his throttle might feel like against my gears. Geez. Would I ever stop thinking with my vagina?

"Yeah, I love to dance."

"Great. How about I pay your cover and buy your first drink in exchange for a dance?"

"Actually, I don't drink. Alcohol, that is. But I'd love to dance with you."

"Deal." He offered a crooked smile that came across a bit too calculating, but I'd never been intimidated by bad boys, and I accepted his extended arm, allowing him to walk me to the front of the line. "I'm not much of a drinker myself," he said. "What's your pleasure?"

"Shirley Temple. I usually take it with a boatload of cherries."

"Good choice. I like your French braid, by the way. The style becomes you." Colin palmed a bill into the bouncer's hand and escorted me into the club while I considered his compliment. He had noticed my hairstyle and knew it was a French braid. Based on my experience with unobservant men, I decided Colin's attention to detail might give him a fighting chance.

My body started bouncing as soon as I stepped under the strobes, and I whipped out my sunglasses, arranging them on top of my head on the chance the psychedelic lightshow fucked with my vision. Vertigo and sensitivity to flashing lights was an annoying problem for me, but not enough to keep me away from the clubs.

When I located Monica and Jen, I pointed them out to Colin, and he led me to their booth. The girls gawked as I arrived with Mr. 911 on my arm, although their reaction may have been exaggerated by the fact that his muscle-bound buddies had joined us.

"Hi, Reese. I see you found some dancing partners already." Monica flashed a hungry smile, and Jen offered a wave behind her jumbo margarita.

"Girls, this is Colin. I met him out front. Colin, these are my friends, Monica and Jen." I turned to Colin's posse, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I'm afraid I haven't been introduced to everyone."

Colin quickly did the honors. "This is Adam and Emile. Emile is French and doesn't speak much English, but Adam and I speak enough French to translate."

The two Porsche hunks sported buzz cuts and bulging biceps, looking like they'd just finished boot camp. I knew Monica favored the clean-cut type, and she scrambled out of the booth like it was on fire, flashing a pair of red panties under her mini skirt. Her brown tresses were pulled into sassy pigtails, accentuating her baby doll fake eyelashes, which she fluttered as she air kissed me.

"Climb in, boys," she said with a wave. "There's room for everyone."

I felt a hand slip around my waist and Colin's almond eyes appeared in my line of vision. "I'm heading to the bar. Don't let either of these guys snag the first dance. You promised."

While I didn't remember promising Colin the first dance, I smiled and nodded as I slid into the booth next to Monica. Adam and Emile sat on the other side, and Adam engaged Jen in a conversation about her swimming pool-sized drink. Jen already appeared to be three sheets to the wind, which was her norm.

I glanced over my shoulder, continuing my evaluation of Colin as he made his way to the bar. I wasn't going to let him out of my sight if he was responsible for my drink. He stopped to chat up a pretty girl in a slinky black dress, and she greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. Their exchange was brief, but he didn't make it far before another woman headed him off. This one was older but equally gorgeous, with legs that stretched to her armpits. I was starting to feel slightly depressed when Monica squeezed my arm.

"Hey, girl. I haven't seen you in forever. How's the photography biz?"

"Steady enough to keep me off the streets. Are you still working at Cathy's Closet?"

"Sure am. It's the easiest gig in town, and I get all my clothes half price. This shirt was only twelve bucks." She glided her hands over her perky boobs, which were barely concealed under a canary yellow sheath.

I managed to keep an eye on Colin as he retrieved my drink without raising my suspicions, and everyone scooted over when he joined us in the booth. "Shirley Temple, extra cherries, as requested. I hope it lives up to your expectations, Reese." As soon as he slid the beverage into my waiting hand, he was raising his in a toast. "To last minute plans and pretty blondes wearing French braids."

My cheeks heated, but I barely had time to blush before Colin started chatting me up. He asked me all the usual questions, and I gave him the rundown of my career as a freelance photographer and fledgling Manhattanite. He told me about his interest in the world of finance and foreign trade, and I admitted my ignorance on the subject. When he divulged his obsession with pepperoni and mushroom pizza, campy horror movies, and occasional deviant behavior, I knew we were destined to get along. But if he got any more charitable, I would have to scratch him from my fuck buddy list.

Monica and Jen grinned like fiends as they watched me interact with Colin. I knew what they were thinking, that there was a good chance the night would end with the six of us taking our clothes off and getting nasty with each other. I'd been there before with them, and the resulting guilt got harder to take each time I woke up under the sprawled body of a stranger. Did I really want to continue down that path?

"How about that dance, Reese?" Colin held out his hand and I took it without hesitation. Dancing was the perfect solution to ignoring the demons in my head.

I wiggled out of the booth, and Colin ushered me into the throng of writhing bodies. The deejay had a sweet Morgan Page mix going, which made it easy to lose myself in the melody, and Colin didn't miss a beat, taking my hand and spinning me around him. Guys with proficient dance skills were somewhat of a rare breed, and I indulged myself in his dexterity, enjoying the attention of his hands as they found my backside.

The flashing lights had me stumbling into him after the first song, and I tugged my sunglasses over my eyes before I ended up face-planting on the dance floor. I leaned into Colin's ear, feeling the need to explain. "I hope you don't think the shades are a blow off. The strobe lights fuck with my vision."

That crooked smile showed up again as he spoke over the chaos. "It's cool. I'm no stranger to the effects of harsh lighting."

When the rhythm changed, Colin gestured to our table, and we took a break from the booty bouncing. Jen had snuggled up to Adam, although she appeared to be only half-coherent as her head lolled against his shoulder. Hopefully, she wasn't building up to a barf fest. I raised my sunglasses over my forehead and slid across the slick vinyl seat, still feeling the heat on my ass where Colin's hands had been. Grabbing my drink, I took a long pull on the straw, letting the ultra sweet beverage wash over my parched tongue.

Colin scooted in next to me and pulled out his cellphone, swiping to his text screen. Although my curiosity was piqued, I made it a point not to spy as he typed out a message. Was he sending it to his girlfriend? His boyfriend? Did I care? After hitting send, he pushed his cell across the table toward Adam. Adam read the text and offered Colin a sly smirk. What the hell was that about?

Colin leaned back in his seat and slipped his arm around my shoulder, getting nice and comfortable. While I usually didn't mind when a hot guy got friendly with me after the first dance, something about the situation felt wrong. Was it the freaky light show getting to me, or maybe Emile's stiff-lipped pose across the table? The guy hadn't spoken a word, and his judgmental stare had my hackles up. Was I finally growing out of the club scene and the fuck boys who scammed on easy girls? Girls like me?

As I deliberated on whether to cut my losses and run, a man stepped away from the bevy of clubbers and approached our table. He was dressed in a black collared shirt and black slacks with a sharp pleat, giving the impression of a wealthy executive who didn't know how to relax. He stood at least as tall as Colin, maybe taller, with a broad chest and the same fair skin and dark hair. But where Colin's hair stopped at his nape, this man's tresses tumbled in waves to his shoulders, framing a ruggedly handsome face. He assessed our group as he held that chiseled mug in an unflinching pose, like he had grown up watching Spike TV and throwing darts at photographs of his enemies.

Colin's body stiffened subtly, but a smile blossomed on his face as he addressed the man. "Vincent, what brings you to this part of town?"

The man paid no attention to Colin's greeting. He was busy zeroing-in on me, and I realized I was helpless to the gravitational pull of his eyes. They were vivid and alluring yet harsh and unyielding, reminding me of the granite stones and mirrored windows of the New York skyline. As I fell further into their swirling gray depths, I became startlingly aware that I recognized those eyes. They belonged Vincent Valentino, generous donor in the preservation of historical architecture, cold-hearted playboy, and the subject of my assignment tomorrow.

"I happened to be scouting the neighborhood." Vincent finally answered Colin, and his smooth, enigmatic voice swept across my skin like a tropical breeze, warming me from the inside out. "Are you going to sit there like an imbecile, Colin, or are you going to introduce me to the captivating female under your arm?"

Captivating?

Colin growled. He actually growled, and I felt the vibration against my arm. "This captivating female goes by the name of Reese. Reese, this is my brother, Vincent."

Brother?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Reese." Vincent purred my name, a fitting trait for a playboy, and I gaped at him without reservation. While I wouldn't peg Vincent as old, mid-thirties at the most, I could tell by his demeanor he was mature for his age. This didn't surprise me, given his mogul status.

Without a single glance at Monica or Jen, Vincent leaned over the table to offer me his hand, assaulting me with his raw, manly scent and cancelling out everything and everyone in the room. In fact, I barely registered the touch of his hand as he continued to hold me captive in his predatory gaze. How long? I don't know, but I probably looked like a crazy person. Colin growled again, and Vincent's eyes darted to his brother in a challenging glare. The tension abated in a flash, but I had a feeling the challenge was far from over.

"I hate to put a damper on the night, but I don't think this exotic establishment is the best place to be at the moment," Vincent said as he glanced with obvious disdain at the flashing neon over our heads. "I ran into some friends of ours outside in the queue. I have a hunch they're following a lead."

He looked pointedly at Colin, and the veins in Colin's neck bulged as he removed his arm from my shoulder and slipped out of the seat to stand in front of Vincent. "Are you accusing me of leading them here?"

"The thought had crossed my mind. Rizzo made it clear there were perps in the neighborhood, yet you still insisted on making your move."

If it were possible to spontaneously combust, Colin would have done it and taken everyone out with him. Using his eyes as skewers, he stared Vincent down, but Vincent didn't seem impressed, matching Colin's gaze with cool reserve as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.

"I'm going to call Reese a cab and see that she gets home safely," he said. "Feel free to stay here and finish your evening, Colin."

"Fuck you! If you think you can waltz in here and take off with my date, you need to check yourself."

His date?

It was then that my instincts told me I should have spent the evening with my TV remote, and I shimmied out the booth as I tucked my purse against my hip. "Don't bother calling me a cab, Vincent. I'm capable of hailing my own. And, by the way, you two need to dial it down. I thought we were supposed to leave the petty bullshit back at high school." I leaned over the table to air-kiss Monica and Jen. "I'm sorry to bail so early, but something tells me I should have stayed home tonight."

"It's barely after one, Reese," Monica complained. "What happened to the crazy bitch who said sleeping was for pussies?"

"She needs to make up for all the lost sleep."

With my better judgment tsking from the comfort of her recliner, I blew past Colin and Vincent, pushing through the crowd toward the front door. I didn't get far before someone caught my arm, and I turned around long enough to confirm who it was. "I'm leaving, Colin. Thanks for the dance and the drink."

"I can't let you leave."

"Come again?"

As I stared at him with poorly-veiled annoyance, Colin's face pinched like I had kneed him in the groin. Behind him, Vincent stood like a statue while a trio of women tried to coax him onto the dance floor. Based on his rigid pose, he wasn't budging.

"Vincent is right about one thing. I may have put you in a bad situation by escorting you inside. At least leave through the back door and I'll make sure you get a cab."

"The back door? Are you worried your so-called friends outside will see me? I have nothing to do with them." My body buzzed from sensory overload, which tended to happen after an hour inside a nightclub, but I figured the ego brothers had more to do with it. I lowered my sunglasses over my eyes, giving Colin five seconds to fill me in.

"If they saw you walk in with me, they might give you a hard time when you leave. They're real assholes."

"Oh, so they're friends who are assholes. Maybe you should find new friends."

As I decided whether to consider Colin for the position of asshole, Vincent walked up to us. "We need to make a move before the situation deteriorates." His uncompromising tone made me think he was used to giving commands, and Colin relented with a frustrated huff, probably because he was used to his brother's uncompromising tone.

"Please, Reese. I'll pay your cab fare home," Colin pleaded as he attempted to penetrate the lenses of my sunglasses with his dangerous gaze. While Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated. I decided it was not worth arguing with them over which frickin' door they wanted me to use.

"Fine. If it will get me out of here faster, I'll take the back door."

I welcomed the chill when we stepped outside into the valet parking lot, and I inhaled the crisp, city air as I removed my sunglasses and shoved them into my purse. Vincent handled the details of calling me a cab, and Colin apparently saw that as an opportunity to get cozy, wrapping his arm around my shoulder like he was staking his claim.

"I'm sorry the night took a weird turn," he said.

"I've had weirder ones, believe me." I casually shrugged out from under him as I pretended to search for something in my purse, and his lips tightened at the brush-off, although he might have been reacting to Vincent's smirk as he witnessed my less-than-subtle maneuver.

"I'd like to see you again, Reese. Can I get your number?" Colin pressed on, undaunted and grimly determined to salvage the night despite the warning bells that should have been going off inside his head.

"Cab's on its way." Vincent winked at me as if to say I've got your back, and Colin appeared to make the same assessment.

While the two men glared at each other like rival gang members, a cab pulled into the parking lot, saving me from having to disappoint Colin. He was a cutie with a bootie, and I figured he had some decent moves in bed if his dancing skills were any indication, but he also had a short fuse, which was not a good match for me. Vincent grabbed the handle of the cab door before it came to a complete stop, pulling it open and waving me inside.

In a gesture of goodwill, I responded to Colin as I stepped into the cab. "I don't give my number to guys I've just met, but if you were paying attention tonight, you should be able to find me."

I immediately questioned my sanity for giving the guy a free pass as he smiled and dug into his pocket for his wallet, but Vincent beat him to it and whipped out a pair of twenties, tossing them onto the seat.

"This should cover the fare."

I shoved them back at him. "You don't have to pay for my cab, but thanks for calling one for me."

Vincent waved the bills away. "Please, take them. I want to pay for your safe passage home, Reese."

Before Colin had a chance to interject, Vincent closed the door, and the cab surged forward. I turned around to watch the brothers yell at each other from the rear window. Were they going to duke it out? Did they always behave that way in front of women? I couldn't help taking it as a sign to lay off men for a while.

"Where to?"

The cabbie's voice startled me, and I rattled off the coordinates to my apartment as I redirected my focus to the front. The sooner I got home, the sooner I could put the whole weird night behind me.

PLAYLIST SONG: Kamikaze by MO