Heath hadn’t gotten where he was by being stupid, and Coop expected to be called on his bullshit, but Heath merely smiled his python’s smile. “And she’s never been in People magazine,” he said. “This gets more and more interesting.” He slapped Coop on the shoulder and headed back to the bra and panties at Agent Provocateur.

“Dude!” Two teens who should have been in school dashed across the street to high-five him. Coop welcomed the interruption. Inviting Heath to show up had backfired. He’d been so sure his agent would be bored. Not that Heath would have shown it—he was too slick—but he’d have been texting the whole time, and that’s all it would have taken. Seeing Sherlock through his agent’s jaded eyes would have restored Coop to sanity. He would have remembered all the women more beautiful, more accomplished, more Coop-like who were part of his world. Instead, Heath’s cell had stayed in his pocket. But then Heath liked quirky women. Witness Annabelle. The two of them—the matchmaker and the sports agent—were a love story for the books.

Coop knew exactly what women on the hunt looked like, felt like, smelled like, and Sherlock had none of the characteristics. She refused to come on to him. All she wanted was a job, and once he lost that hold, he’d be no more important to her than those dresses he’d bought.

This would require careful strategy, something he was very good at.

***

Piper wore the cobalt dress that night—her fourth night on duty at the club—but instead of making her blend in with the trendy crowd, it attracted more attention than she wanted. A couple of guys asked to buy her drinks, and PhairoZ, the club’s guest DJ, singled her out during his break.

PhairoZ—real name Jason Schmidt—looked like a tatted-up European soccer star. Coop was a smart businessman. He understood that he was the lure drawing customers in for their first visit, but the club itself had to draw them back, so he hired the best DJs to keep things fresh, as well as a good-looking male staff. Where the women were, the male customers would follow.

“So you want to hang after I get off?” PhairoZ leaned one palm against the wall behind her.

“Thanks, but seriously...” She regarded him with earnest eyes and what she hoped was a semi-shy expression. “You’re way too hot for me.”

“That just means I can warm you up faster.”

She resisted her natural tendency for put-downs. “I’m too insecure.” She gave his arm a friendly squeeze, ducked under it, and walked away.