Free Instructing an Heiress by Judy Teel Page B

time," Dark Eyes said. "Not as funny as it used to be."
    "Growing up is hell," Ajax said.  
    "Singing telegram people?" Dark Eyes speculated.
    "Nah."
    "I bet she's with one of those stripper groups," Mr. Cocky purred as he leaned in toward CK.
    She shoved him back, hard. "Oh, my gosh. Let it go. I'm not interested." She narrowed her eyes at the rest of them. "I'm also not a stripper." She choked a little on the word, her fury tightening. "My grandfather will absolutely cut me off if I don't get married in a month. Ryan is helping me and I have no interest whatsoever in any of you, so get that scared possom-in-the-headlights look off your faces and grow up."
    Silence landed on the table like a cement block. The men gaped at her.
    Steampunk's eyebrows rose above the rims of his glasses. "Wow."
    "It's really her," Dark Eyes said.
    "Balls of Steel chick," Ajax added, smiling. "Just like Ryan said."
    "Balls of...." CK gritted her teeth and tried to get her temper under control. "You are so not getting a bonus for this job, Anderson."
    He shrugged. "I said it after the ChesterCo buy out. At the time, it was a complement."
    "CK your real name?" Dark Eyes asked her. "Cute."
    "Triple cute," Moppy Hair chimed in.
    "A grown woman is not—" she started to protest.
    "What's CK stand for?" Steampunk asked.
    Moppy Hair raised his hand. "I know! I know! Certified Knockout!"
    CK's eyebrows went up. "Seriously?"
    The group looked at him. He gazed back with wide, innocent hazel eyes. "What? I was gonna say something else, but she'd call off the wedding." He angled his hand to his mouth and leaned toward Steampunk. "Women hate the word I was gonna use."
    She'd had enough of this farce.  
    Why she'd thought it would be fun to have men think of her as a desirable woman was beyond her. The truth was, being lusted after made her a little nauseous and being seen as an object wasn't nearly fun as she'd imagined. Worse, it was humiliating.  
    CK glanced toward the bar. The atmosphere of the club with its soft red and dark purple lighting and intimate groupings of tables had seemed so elegant when she'd walked in. Now it all seemed lurid and cheap to her.  
    Her throat tightened. Time to find Farley and get out. She didn't care that retreat meant Ryan had won this round. She just wanted this over with.
    Ryan braced his arms on the table and considered her for a moment. "What does CK stand for?"
    "It stands for 'We're done here.'" CK started to push to her feet. The weight of Ryan's hand landed on her bare shoulder.
    The warmth of his palm seared through her skin, sending a flare of energy arching into her nervous system. Alarm chased after it.
    "Don't manhandle me," she snapped, pushing his hand roughly off of her. She glared at Moppy Hair, the turmoil of her emotions gathering into an aching pressure in her throat. "And don't ever refer to me in terms of a wedding. Unless you want to find yourself nursing a broken nose."  
    "Definitely not interested," Dark Eyes commented, mildly.
    "But you gotta love a woman with fire in her eyes," Mr. Cocky said, genuine interest lighting his expression.
    "It's the fire up her butt that worries me," Ryan said, sourly.
    Heat spread across her face, again, and the lump in her throat tightened. To her horror, tears suddenly welled up in her eyes.
    "Now you've done it, moron," Steampunk said.
    Mr. Cocky's predatory expression instantly morphed into panicked apology. "No, no, no. Don't cry. I'm not always a dog." He thrust his hand in front of her. "Brad DeJoiner. Let's start over."  
    She bit down on her lip, willing the tears to stop, and blindly reached out to accept his handshake. Dark Eyes stood up and pushed Brad's hand away.  
    Clasping her palm in a friendly grip, he flashed her a bright smile. "Jackson Zimmer. He is always a dog and girl, I like your style."
    Brad eased her hand out of Jackson's and lightly kissed the back of it. "Ignore him. I practice law in L.A. He's nothing but a history