Page 5 of Back in Black

His jaw tightened. “No fucking way.”

Slowly, letting her lips form the word precisely, Gillian said, “Way.”

DREW felt his left eye twitch. She had to be fucking with him. No way would Loren do this to him.

As he dug out his cell phone, he pointed a finger at her. “Stay put.”

She fashioned an affronted look at the order, then, with a twitching smile, she shrugged. The blasé roll of her shoulders did interesting things to that impressive rack of hers. Oh, yeah, this lady was all real. Silicone did not jiggle like that.

His skin heated.

Then, as if to exacerbate his libido further, she slid that delectable tush back up on the bar stool and picked up her drink.

Drew stared from her shoulders down her spine to that heart-shaped ass that looked downright kissable.

Red-eyed and feeling more than mean, he forced himself to turn away. If he hadn’t, he’d have gone back to seducing her instead of what he needed to do, which was take care of business.

Brett eyed him warily. “You okay?”

“Just fucking dandy.”

“Okay then.” Brett turned to leave.

Damn it, he hadn’t meant to run him off. Brett was a real up-and-coming fighter. Crowds loved him. He had a kick-ass presence on the Web already.

And other fight organizations wanted him.

Drew caught Brett’s arm. “Hey, I’ll call you as soon as I get something concrete set up.”

Brett nodded. “I’ll be training. Whenever you say, I’m ready to go.”

After one more glance at Ms. Fancy-pants sitting all prim and sexy at the bar, Drew walked out of the main bar area and into a hallway. It was a little quieter here, making the phone call easier.

He hit speed dial on his cell, listened to the fourth ring, the fifth. A glance at his watch showed it was only a little after ten P.M. Loren had probably left the office hours ago.

In a grumbling, irritated voice, Loren picked up on the sixth ring. “Make it work with her, Drew.”

Son of a bitch. Loren had obviously expected his call, because he knew Gillian would be talking to him tonight. “No fucking way, Loren. It ain’t happening. I don’t need a damned babysitter, and you know it.”

Exasperation sounded in Loren’s tone. “Drew . . .”

“I fucking well built this company without any help from some stick-in-the-mud, prim-and-proper skirt getting in my way.”

“No one is disputing that. But ithasgrown, so—”

“I never heard you complaining when I put in seventy-five-hour weeks and more, or when your investments more than fucking doubled.”

“It’s not entirely my idea, Drew. There are other factors at play.”

“Like what?” He’d crush whoever was responsible for doing this to him. He’d annihilate . . .

“Listen up, Drew.” The new voice on the phone was more feminine, but no less powerful. “You’re doing this, so suck it up and be a man about it.”

Fran. Drew pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He should have known that if Loren was still in the office, Fran was, too. He pictured the two of them waiting around for his call, knowing damn good and well how he’d react, and it ratcheted up his anger even more.

Loren’s sister was co-owner of the SBC, and while Drew appreciated her business savvy, he detested dealing with her. In most cases, she wasn’t nearly as manageable as Loren. “Frannie, listen . . .”

“You know I loathe that name, Drew. You use it just to annoy me.”

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