Chapter 15

Raina said good-bye to Maggie and followed Mal to his office. Not the security office where he hung out most often but his actual office where she'd had her very first meeting with him. When he'd been all cranky and adorable. Now he was just adorable. She wondered if everyone she passed could hear her heart pounding as she walked next to him and made inane small talk. Or if they knew she was counting the seconds until they were alone.

Mal closed the office door behind them with a firm click that suggested he'd locked it. Then he reached for her and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of her for several long and delicious minutes.

"Someone will see us," she squeaked when he let her up for air.

"Nope. Trust me, I know where every camera in this place is and only I have the code that activates the one in here."

"Still," she said. "You go sit over at your desk. You're going to rumple me and then people will know."

"You're wearing workout clothes. They don't rumple."

"Hair does. Makeup does." She pointed at the desk. "Get thee behind it, Satan."

"Satan? I thought I was a knight."

"Knights don't kiss like that. Devils do."

Mal laughed but backed away to the desk and sat. "Happy?"

"Very. Good kiss by the way. Just in case you were wondering."

That earned her a grin. "Thought it was better to start with that."

"Before we fight, you mean?"

"Fight?"

"You know, argue. Discuss. Disagree. The part where you tell me that you don't want me to do any press and then I say that maybe that's a little extreme and we go a few rounds before we work things out." She hoped that he was going to be able to work it out. After all, he'd said he would try to let her do things her way.

"Ah, that part. Sounds like you've got it all worked out," he said.

"There's the part where we can have really hot makeup sex after I'm done tonight."

His eyebrows lifted. "Trying to bribe me, Ms. Easton?"

"Is it working? Can I distract you from the fight part by offering up my body as a sacrifice to the dark lord?" She tried to look like that wasn't a very appealing prospect. Office. They were in Mal's office. In the middle of a building filled with many, many people. She couldn't lose her head and let him kiss her—or do anything else to her—again.

"You said no to the body part just a few minutes ago."

"So I did." She sighed. Her past self was sensible. She should listen to her. "Okay, then, dark lord. On to the arguing."

"You make it difficult to remember what I wanted to argue about," Mal said. "I keep thinking about what's under those workout clothes."

"A body in desperate need of a shower," she said. "Not sexy at all. So mind out of the gutter. Let's get this discussion going. There's this thing called a baseball game happening tonight."

"So I hear. All right then, discussion it is. I don't think that you doing any interviews right now is a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because, like I said to Maggie, stuff has been happening. Stuff that suggests there is someone unpleasant out there with a bone to pick with you. I'd rather you didn't give him a clear shot, so to speak."

"So far there's been graffiti, flat tires, and some fireworks. Hardly life threatening."

"Getting worse."

"Yes. And believe me, that thought doesn't exactly make me happy. But I'm not going to let some loser run my life and make me run scared. So I'm not agreeing to do no press at all."

He folded his arms and gave her a very annoyed dark lord look. Kind of sexy really. Probably not the effect he was aiming for. She stifled a grin. She liked a man who fought fair. No sulking. No pouting. No getting huffy when she tried to lighten the situation. At least, not so far. Maybe he really was a grown-up.

The kind of guy she could trust.

She squelched that thought. Too soon. After all, he wasn't perfect. There was the dead girlfriend for one thing. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that. Not jealous, well, no more than reasonable. But … there was something there. It was pretty hard to compete with a memory after all. Someone frozen in time with their faults fading every day and only the good stuff remaining.

And then there were those buttons that this Ally, and for this part Raina did want to smack her, had installed in Mal. Sure, the guy had possibly had a good slab of Must save the world in his personality to begin with. Joining the army was a good indication of that. But then Ally had gone and made him fail at saving someone precious to him. Raina had enough buttons of her own to recognize a good one when she saw it. Mal wasn't perfect. He came with issues.

The question was, Did those issues make him knight in slightly battered armor or a real dark lord? One who was beyond finding the light again?

And how far she would be willing to go to find out? To see if he crossed a line. That was the part that scared her. Would she recognize the point where she needed to let go or not?

But that was her button. And right now, this was about Mal's.

"So somewhere between zero press and appearing on every show the media office can dig up," she offered. "That seems to be the range we're dealing with. What's the easy stuff, print? Print seems safe enough. Reporters can come here to Deacon. They'll probably dig up some of my burlesque pictures but there's nothing out there that I don't already know about. Nothing that should worry the Saints given that you vetted me before you hired me. Sound about right?"

Mal nodded. "Yes."

"Right. So print is okay. But TV gets to more people. So TV is good. TV equals butts on seats at your games and all that good stuff. Now, I'm no press expert, but I'm hazarding a guess that the TV shows might be more interested in my tall leggy dancer girls than in me, so we can probably keep me behind the scenes for most of those."

"That would be good," Mal said. His shoulders lowered slightly and Raina felt her stomach muscles loosen in response. "Better would be keeping you behind the scenes entirely."

She shrugged. "Maggie was right about TV studios having good security."

"Not all the morning shows. They do those segments right out on the street. Any idiot could be in the crowd."

"Okay, so no location shoots. Studio only. Unless they want to come here and shoot something to play later. How about that? That way you can vet everyone to your little dark security lord heart's content and control the whole shebang."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said.

"My parents always taught me to use my words. And my gran said life was too short to spend wheedling folks to do what you want with the indirect approach. She was more the face things head-on and just say what the hell you want type."

"I like the sound of her," Mal said.

"She was awesome," Raina said. "She was two inches shorter than me and no one ever crossed her. Ruled the whole damned family." She smiled crookedly, the old familiar pang hitting her as she pictured Violet's face. "So I learned at the feet of a master, mister. I can do this all day. Or at least for another thirty minutes or so. Then I have to go Angel wrangling instead of dark lord wrangling."

"You're wrangling me?"

"Trying to? Is it working?" She batted her eyelashes at him and he laughed.

"I think it might be. Okay. Yes to print. Yes to some TV. Limited TV. Let the reporters wrangle the Angels for a change."

She resisted the urge to do a fist pump. They'd done it. A nice mature compromise. Sure, Mal might still have an issue or two when push came to shove about her going on camera but he hadn't tried to just lay down the law and ride over what she wanted. Good dark lord. Nice dark lord.

Freakin' hot dark lord.

"You're sure there are no cameras running in here?" she asked.

"One hundred percent certain."

"In that case, come here and kiss me. My gran taught me to get what I want and right now that's what I want." And she laughed again as he came over and did just that.

When Raina emerged from the locker rooms after the game, Alex was waiting for her in the corridor outside. She stopped, coming to an awkward halt with her gear bag on one shoulder. Her giant supplies case whacked the back of her ankle when it didn't stop as fast as she did.

"Ow. Alex. Hi. Congratulations on the game," she said, trying not wince. The Saints had won again. Just. But it was a win. And she'd managed to keep the squad from getting too excited about the prospect of interviews and media.

Alex smiled. "Thanks. Are you okay?"

"This case has a mind of its own." She bent down to rub her ankle, trying not to feel like she was making an idiot of herself in front of her boss. She really should spring for a new case sometime soon. One that actually steered. Alex probably had expensive luggage that never misbehaved. Made by teams of Swiss engineers or something.

Alex waited for her to straighten. "Attack luggage. I get that. We could get you a team-branded case. Something less deadly. Call it a bonus. Your Angels seem to be inspiring the team to great things."

She nodded, not wanting him to think she was mooching for free stuff. "Happy to oblige. Did you need something? I have to get back to Brooklyn for the second half of my show."

Alex held out a hand. "I came to walk you to your truck. Let me take that case for you. We can walk and talk."

She let go of the handle and stepped away. They headed toward the parking lot. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Do you ever rent out Madame R for private functions?" Alex asked.

She nodded. "Sometimes. For the right price. Not weekends preferably or it would have to be a really, really right price. Why? What were you thinking?"

"Maggie said her dad used to throw team parties sometimes. In about a month we have a good run of games here again. The Yankees on Sunday then Monday off then the Yankees again for the next two days."

"No travel," she said.

"No. So that's a window to do something for the team. Let them blow off a little steam. Not too much steam but they're professionals. They know they have to play the next day."

"Sounds like a good idea," Raina said. "But why my club?"

"Maggie keeps talking about how much fun it was. Said your show was great. So I thought maybe you could do a shorter version of that and then we'd bring in caterers to do food and you can do the beverages. Would that work?"

She nodded. A fat fee for a private function was just another welcome addition to her nest egg. She wasn't going to say no.

Alex smiled again. Which made him even more ridiculously handsome.

"Great. I want to do something special for Maggie. Things were crazy this year around her birthday so a bit of belated fuss can't hurt."

"I approve of men wanting to spoil their girlfriends." They'd reached Rose and Alex hauled the case into the back of the truck. "Let me talk to Brady and Luis and Paolo—they manage Madame R with me. We'll price some options for you if you send me the date you're thinking of. The Monday?" She fished in her bag for her keys, then paused as something occurred to her. "When you say something special, you do just mean a party, don't you? You're not planning any grand gestures?"

"Grand gestures?"

"Putting a rock on Maggie's finger as big as that blue iceberg Sara wears? We get people proposing every so often at the club and I have to say, if it were me, I'd rather my proposal be private. It always feels a bit … aggressive. Puts the girl on the spot. Of course, I'm not Maggie, and I'm sure she'd love a rock as big as an iceberg, so tell me to go soak my head if you want."

"No head soaking. I agree. When I propose to Maggie, I don't want an audience."

The look on his face—half eager, half awed—made her smile. "Awwww, you said when."

His expression turned startled. "What?"

"Just now. You said when you propose. Not if." She grinned at him. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I know you two haven't been dating all that long. Though Lucas and Sara are engaged."

"Lucas doesn't mess around," Alex said.

"And you do?"

"No, but Maggie and I are different. Maggie is invested in this place. She wants the Saints to do really well this season. Her head's not in the right spot for anything else right now. I want her full attention when the time comes."

She smiled at him approvingly. Definitely grown up. Which boded well for his friends being grown-ups, too. She could get used to this. The thought kept her smiling all the way back to Brooklyn.

Two weeks later Mal watched Raina turn on the charm for the way-too-polished host of a cable news morning show and tried not to get too annoyed.

It was the third TV interview she'd done but the first without any of the Angels with her. Raina had apparently had to deal with some tensions in the squad about who was getting more press exposure, so she'd decided to do this one solo. Mal had tried to dig out of her who was causing trouble—if he had to guess he'd pick Ana, who always seemed a little too fond of herself and a little too keen on talking to the players rather than her fellow Angels at club events. She was, admittedly, gorgeous, but he'd come across her type before. Not a team player. But Raina had said it was her problem to deal with and that she wasn't going to tell him who was involved until she had to. He was respecting that.

The host was asking the same inane questions as they had at the other stations but he kept smiling at Raina a little too broadly for Mal's liking.

Raina didn't seem fazed by it, though, and she smiled back and gave answers that were smart and charming. He wasn't so sure about the charming part. The host seemed to like it a little too much.

But it was all going smoothly and he made himself relax. Then the host—Blair, that was the idiot's name—said, "So Raina, you're a burlesque dancer. Isn't that like being a stripper?" A picture of Raina in black leather corset and fishnets and bright-red shoes—a shot Mal recognized from the Madame R website—appeared on the screen behind the host. "I mean, that outfit is pretty risqué, isn't it?"

What the fuck? Mal bristled and grabbed the arm of the floor manager standing beside him. "Shut this down. Now," he growled. "Before I shut him down."

The man nodded and hurried off. Mal watched Raina. She had blinked when Blair had proved himself to be a complete moron by asking that question but she hadn't answered. Yet.

"Strippers take their clothes off and give men lap dances. There are lots of great dancers who strip out there but that's not what I do, Blair. Burlesque is about sexual tension, not sex. And the way it's done at my club, it's about a lot more than that. Like female empowerment. And respect for women. The kind you apparently weren't taught very well. Now, did you have another question?" Raina said in a steely voice.

Mal bit back a laugh as Blair's face went red. Which didn't mean he wouldn't still have a thing or two to say to the guy about how to talk to women after the show. But Raina had taken him down quite nicely on air, and that was a good start.

Abruptly Blair put his hand on his ear and then nodded and turned to the camera. "And we'll back right after this break. This is Blair Hansen and I've been talking to Raina Easton, choreographer for the Fallen Angels, the new dance squad that has been making waves over at Deacon Field. Don't go away, your great morning is just getting started."

Mal waited a few seconds until the movement of the crew told him that they were off air. He learned the signs in the previous two interviews. He started to walk onto the floor of the small studio but Raina met him before he could get too far.

She wrapped a hand around his arm. "Mal," she said warningly. "You can't punch out a journalist."

"I'm not going to punch him," Mal said. "Just explain to him that there are some questions that come with a price tag."

He looked over her head at Blair, who was being fussed over by a makeup man. But he was looking at Mal and he must have got the message that Mal was trying to convey with his glare because he went pale under the heavy makeup he wore.

"Mal," Raina said again. "Let's go. We have to get back to Deacon. Game day, remember? He's not worth the trouble. I took care of it. He was just trying to score a point and if you go and do something dumb, then he will have. So shake it off, big boy. He's not the last guy you'll hear call me a stripper, if you and I keep going."

"Maybe not. And if he isn't then he's not going to be the only one who's going to regret saying it."

"Not a damsel in distress here," she said. "Remember?" She tugged on his arm again. "Let's go."

Mal looked down at her. She didn't look upset. Concerned maybe, but not upset. Concerned about him. Which meant that if he kept going, she was going to move to upset. Because of something he'd done. Which would make him the dickhead in this scenario. He took a deep breath and sent one last glare in Blair's direction. "You're right. Let's go."