Irresistible Bachelors: Books 1-5 by Landish, Lauren (bts books to read TXT) 📕

hearing some stuff that hasn’t been in heavy rotation since the turn of the millennium. Then again, Will Smith is pretty smooth on Switch.

As John walks with me past the bar, I feel a moment of rising anxiety as I look around for the creepy bastard who tried to drug me, but I don’t see him. John notices and gives me a reassuring smile. “All clear tonight, Miss Price. Come, Mr. Stone is waiting for you upstairs.”

I look up and see Jake leaning on the railing of the VIP section, giving me a little wave. I wave back, and John leads me up, giving me the same little nod before he peels off to watch the steps to the VIP level. I’m surprised when I see that Jake’s alone up here. We have the whole level to ourselves.

“You’re looking dapper,” I comment as he comes over. He’s changed from the suit he wore to work into a slightly tighter fitting, brighter gray suit that just barely gleams in the club lights. “How many suits do you own, anyway?”

“Enough,” he says easily, and as he steps closer, I’m just staggered again by his magnetism. He has this confident ease about him that isn’t cocky. It’s more like he’s saying Yes, I have the looks, but I’m more than that. “Come on, I have a booth for us.”

He leads me over to a nice booth, all done in black velvet with a low ebony table in the middle. “Let me get you a drink,” he says, signaling the waitress. “A Little Mermaid,” he says, “and a Highlander.”

I give him a raised eyebrow, and he chuckles. “You’ll like it, relax. You look amazing, by the way. Love what you did with your eyes. It totally changes your expression from work.”

His eyes roam over my face, causing my skin to feel like I’ve got a low grade sunburn. I feel sexy, and when I do a switch on my legs, crossing my right over my left, his eyes watch every movement. I love the way he makes me feel. It’s like we never left off. “Are you saying I looked bad at work?” I ask playfully. “Less feminine?”

Jake licks his lips and laughs. “Hardly. But you looked scared out of your mind. Not like you do now. You look at home.”

I shrug, reaching into my purse. “Here’s your wallet. Uh, just to let you know, I robbed you blind.”

He chuckles and takes it from my hand. “I doubt that.”

Without even opening it, he takes the wallet and slides it into his jacket pocket. I stare at him for a moment, shocked. “You’re not going to count the money?”

“I trust you,” he says confidently. “You look more like an angel than a thief.”

I blush, then I laugh. “Okay, just don’t get mad when you get the credit card bill for that trip to Hawaii I booked, complete with matching Louis Vuitton luggage.”

Jake laughs again. “You’re not the type for LV luggage.”

The waitress comes back with our drinks. His Highlander looks interesting, almost like root beer, of all things. “What the hell is that?”

“Two ounces Japanese sake, two ounces of Scotch whisky, and the rest is Coke over crushed ice,” he says, lifting the clear beer mug. “Basically a Duncan Macleod, but we use real Highland scotch, so we renamed it.”

I nod and take a sip of mine. It’s fruity, with bright highlights, and I can already tell I’m going to have to go easy on it. I’ve got work in the morning, and I’m not supposed to be going home with Jake. “Damn, this is good.”

“Thank you. I had a hand in making it,” Jake says, sipping his mug.

“Did you? And did you have a hand in the drink the first night too?” I ask, and Jake shakes his head.

“No, wish I could say I did. The name alone is nice, though, don’t you think?”

I laugh as I take another sip of my drink. “It certainly makes memories. And the club?”

“Nathan and I had an architect help with the details, but we chose most of the layout. I wanted something different from the average club.”

“It’s one of the nicest I’ve ever been in,” I say honestly. “Nothing like Trixie’s.”

Jake takes a slow sip of his Highlander and sets it down, raising an eyebrow. “Trixie’s?”

I nod. “The club I used to sing at.” And shake my ass like nobody’s business. “It was my favorite place back home.”

“You’re a singer?” he says with some surprise. “You’re just full of little talents, aren’t you? What kind of music?”

“Nothing anymore,” I say, feeling the pain in my chest that comes with talking about it. Those days are gone. Despite Mindy’s encouragement, I haven’t given much thought to singing. But looking over the railing of the VIP lounge at the stage, I feel that same longing and admit to myself that there’s a void where singing used to be in my heart. I force myself to look away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I stopped when I went back to college.”

“Why?” Jake asks, leaning forward. “I can see in your eyes that you practically want to run down there right now and grab a mic.”

“Yeah, well,” I say softly, shaking my head, “I didn’t think it was right that I wasn’t really making any money doing it and instead was mooching off my mom and stepfather. I thought it was time to move on, support myself.”

Jake nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Let me ask you, which makes you happier, singing or working at Franklin?”

“Singing,” I answer without even pausing for breath. “I don’t care what. Rock, pop, just about anything but country. But . . . like I said, I’m done living off someone else, Jake.”

Jake hums, then finishes the rest of his drink. “Mind singing something for me? Call it . . . call it your penance for accidentally stealing my wallet.”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I haven’t sung in so long, I’m pretty sure