“Jodi…” Tuck drawled. “It’s a bad idea to mess with drug dealers. Let me find the perp. You don’t need to get involved.”
Determined to hold her ground, she glared at him. “You haven’t even started yet. I have no proof you can spot the asshole any easier than I can. At least this way, I stand a chance of being offered whatever he’s selling.”
Tuck’s face grew red, which was saying something considering how tan he was. He ran a hand over the top of his thick brown hair in exasperation, blinking those penetrating green eyes at her when she glanced. The muscles on his forearms were bulging, more so than usual. Tattoos extending out from under his sleeves. He was also shaking his head.
“Don’t be sexist. There’s nothing wrong with my outfit. Everything is covered. It’s all legal.” She was exaggerating a bit. After all, she had on a hot pink bra and the tight tank top her father insisted was a wifebeater barely covered the bra. It was also see-through.
Still, if she were currently at the beach like the women he’d been living with on the set of Cold Feet, she would have on far less than this. Her bikini covered less skin than this bra.
She’d never once seen him judge the women around him on set the way he was eyeing Jodi right now, so it was difficult to know what to make of his reaction.
“I’m not sexist, Jodi,” he gritted out. “I’m concerned about you is all.”
“You’ve never been concerned about Katia when she dressed in three small triangles of material every day for two weeks,” she challenged.
His voice rose. “That’s because I don’t care what Katia wears.” He threw up his hands and then winced and looked away, running a hand over his hair again.
She grinned in spite of herself, finding it interesting that he cared more about her attire on the first day they’d met than his wife of two months. Come to think of it, Jodi didn’t believe she’d ever seen Tuck act like he even saw the women on that show. He certainly didn’t judge their clothing, at least not in front of the cameras.
Before Jodi could come up with the perfect retort to taunt Tuck with his implication that he cared about her, he turned and walked away, murmuring. “Damn pigheaded woman. Thinks she’s Rambo or something.”
Jodi smiled at his back as she admired his fine ass. Tight. Muscular. Firm. Jesus.
No matter what her father and Tuck said, she was going to dress in revealing clothing until they caught the dealer. Yes, it drew unsolicited attention that made Jodi recognize how shallow many men could be, but she also suspected it would be effective and pay off one of these days. Besides, based on people’s reaction to her new bar attire, she thought her revealing shirts might actually bring in more customers. If business didn’t pick up soon, it wouldn’t matter if they caught the drug dealer.
When her father returned and headed toward the front door to unlock it, Tuck followed him and then leaned his ass against the stool her father had placed there for that very purpose. Tuck glanced at Jodi with narrowed eyes.
Jodi tried not to read anything into it. It wasn’t as though Tuck was hitting on her. Of course not. Nor could he possibly care about her any more than as Bill Bridgman’s daughter.
Still, she had doubts about the story she kept telling herself. Tuck was definitely keeping an eye on her.
Chapter 4
Tuck was exhausted and cranky as he dragged himself up the stairs to the second-floor apartment he currently shared with Katia. He hadn’t worked that hard in months, not even on the set of Cold Feet. Granted, his job had mostly involved checking IDs and keeping a keen eye out for anything unusual, but the constant stress of paying close attention to every patron wore on him.
And then there was Jodi. It shouldn’t have surprised him to find out she was the best bartender he’d ever seen. She didn’t do anything half-assed. She never missed a beat the entire evening, filling orders for both waitresses and everyone at the bar with an ease that came from years of experience.
He knew from their earlier discussion that she was not only proficient behind the bar, but she also managed all the accounting and inventory. Bill still technically owned the bar, but he was getting older and as he put it—slower. He helped out when the place got too busy, but the rest of the time, he mingled with the regulars. He seemed to be ignoring their financial problems.
As Tuck opened the door to the apartment, he found Katia sitting on the couch in the dark, long legs folded under her, laptop on her thighs, fingers rushing across the keyboard. She glanced up at him and frowned. “Where were you?”
He sighed. Everything they did was a game. Much of it was even suggested each day from the producers to increase ratings. He wasn’t in the mood for a fake fight right now, but he didn’t have a choice. “I told you I was starting my new job tonight.”
She cocked her head to one side, pausing from her frantic typing. “It’s two in the morning.”
“I’m a bouncer. The bar closes at one, Katia.” He shuffled across the living area to the attached kitchen and opened the fridge, returning with a bottle of water.
As he opened it, she spoke again. “Are you drunk?”
He groaned. “No, I’m not drunk. I didn’t drink anything at all. I was working.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Whatever.” And then she bent down to continue typing. “I need to finish this post, and then I’m going to bed.”
“At least I have a real job,” he murmured, remembering the suggested line from his
