Free Delicious by Shayla Black Page A

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