Free Body of Work by Karla Doyle Page A

expected. A few men mixed in amongst dozens of females in varying degrees of slut-me-up. Cassie kept her eyes on the door, ignoring the voices who not-so-politely told her where to find the back of the line. Normally, she’d follow the rules. Not tonight.
    “Hi there.” She smiled up at the dark-haired doorman. His build matched Brian’s for bulk, though he stood a couple inches shorter. Still, he flat-out dwarfed her, even in her three-inch heels. A good-looking guy, if you liked the monstrous, menacing type. Because unlike Brian, this man didn’t smile down at her with a sexy combo of amusement and affection. He just…stared down.
    “You got a VIP pass?”
    “Um, not an official one.”
    “Being cute doesn’t count.” He flicked the air in front of him. “Back of the line.”
    The haters behind her jeered. Hey, he thought she was cute—that bought her another try, right? “I’m a friend of Brian’s.”
    “You and half the ladies behind you, sweetheart.”
    At this, she glanced over her shoulder. Surely he didn’t mean that the way it sounded. She looked up at him again and met a smug grin. Thought he’d struck a nerve, huh? “Maybe so, but did he tell all of them he’d let them in whenever they wanted?”
    He crossed massive arms over an equally massive chest. “You really wanna play it this way?” He shrugged when she thrust her chin upward and nodded. “Your call. Name?”
    “You’re not going to go and get him, bring him out here?”
    Cocky jerk shook his head and tapped his headset. “If he doesn’t know you by name, you can join the rest of his friends in line.”
    “Cassie Johnson,” she said, ignoring the cackling at her back.
    He opened his mouth, clapped it closed and smirked. “Think I’ll go old-school tonight.”
    She commanded her body not to fidget when he turned to pull the door open. Thumping bass spilled out into the summer night as he called to somebody she couldn’t see.
    Another thickly built guy wearing head-to-toe black stepped outside to swap places. This one smiled genuinely, thoroughly checking her out as he did. “So, you say you’re a friend of our hotheaded big man.” Not a question, but rather a statement he found exceedingly entertaining. Great, another one.
    “If we’re talking about Brian Black, then yes.” She agreed with big, absolutely, but hotheaded? Not the Brian she knew. Maybe that went with his bouncer persona. She certainly understood changing façades to match the job of the moment.
    His gaze traveled from her low-cut neckline to her cherry-painted lips. “Well, if he’s stupid enough to have forgotten you, I’d be happy to take his place as your friend tonight.”
    Bouncer number one reappeared, motioning her inside and saving her from answering. “Been here before?” he asked as she caught up to him several feet past the entrance.
    “A few times, it’s great.”
    He grunted. “Brian’s working the floor. Enjoy.” With that, her less-than-thrilled escort turned back toward the entrance.
    She followed the pulse of music down the corridor. Near the end, she took a fortifying breath, then rounded the corner into the meat warehouse-turned-meat market. True, she’d been here before, but never solo. Alone amongst hundreds of gyrating bodies, many of which were fuelled by alcohol—a little daunting, but once she got on the dance floor, it wouldn’t matter. But first, a drink to loosen her limbs.
    A thirty-foot-long bar stood near the edge of the huge dance floor, serving patrons from all sides. She set her sights on the closest end and shouldered her way through the throng, reaching her goal with the barest minimum of good manners remaining. Stools didn’t exist here. Get your booze and move it along, thank you very much. Cassie pulled a twenty from her tiny purse and leaned against the polished wood with the folded bill between her thumb and index finger. She chose her mark—an attractive twenty-something she pegged as a grad student