One week later
“C’mon, Zee… just one drink over at Satan’s. Pretty please, sweet cheeks? Hell, I’ll even spring for it, seeing as it’s payday today and all.”
Saint grinned at Zoe, his sky-blue eyes dancing and almost angelic under that tangle of blond hair – but the man was no angel, and definitely no saint. Zoe had been working with him for going on a month now, and he had real, actual groupies. Long-legged, curvy-hipped, large-breasted, heavily-made-up, drop-dead-stunning groupies. They blew up his cell phone most days with texts, and he had a different one meeting him over at Satan’s most nights.
Despite his unapologetic womanizing, though, she had to admit she liked the guy. She wasn’t immune to his honey-sweet charm and teasing after all, and she found herself grinning back.
“Y
