Wow. He hadn’t seen the caring side of Alyssa. This news surely brought her into a whole new dimension. “Couldn’t these women make more money stripping and . . . taking customers on the side?”

“Turning tricks?” Tyler raised a brow. “You’re damn lucky Alyssa didn’t hear that. She’d skin you alive and boil you in oil. That shit doesn’t happen here. Period. ’Course she can’t stop a dancer willing to entertain customers after hours and off premises, but she usually ends up firing them since they’re often trouble.”

The answer floored Luc. Educated and principled? Had he failed to see past their scorching sex and her short skirts to the woman underneath?

As much as he hated to admit it, yes.

But did it matter? As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t take her. She wasn’t a mommy candidate. He couldn’t even see her as someone’s wife. Alyssa would be impossible to tame, and Luc wanted a woman who would be content to stay home and focus on children. He didn’t see her as that type.

But her values went deeper than he’d believed. She worked damn hard and deserved a break.

“You said Primpton is out front?”

Tyler smiled tightly. “With all the local press. Someone needs to stop this prick. She doesn’t need him, especially now.”

“Because the restaurant is opening soon?”

“That, and her mother. Alyssa just hasn’t been the same since the woman died.”

Died? “When?”

“Two weeks ago. Damn shame.”

Though they still lived in Florida, and Luc didn’t see his parents often, they talked frequently. He loved them very much and would be devastated if something happened to them. Certainly, he’d be in no shape to open a new business.

“They were close?”

“No.”

Tyler’s answer was both automatic and adamant. And his face said he refused to say any more on the subject.

“So Primpton’s latest stunt is one she doesn’t need.” Tyler gritted his teeth. “It’s going to bug the shit out of her.”

Not if Luc could help it.

A few minutes later, Alyssa emerged into weak sunlight. The muggy September air had an oppressive feeling, and she was glad she’d decided to forgo curling her hair. In this humidity, her do would be undone in no time flat. Plus, the sedate French twist looked classy.

With a hand above her brow, she shielded her eyes and scanned the sidewalk. There. Primpton and his oh-so-moral followers stood on the sidewalk mere feet away with signs and angry expressions. Among his followers were two men who had watched her onstage last night, then paid Sadie for a private lap dance. She arched a brow at them. They looked away—but held up their hateful signs.

Of course. Outside the walls of this club, she didn’t exist as a real person. Just a whore.

Flashbulbs went off and a chorus of voices spoke over one another, all shouting. She frowned and looked at the cluster of people. Reporters. Then she gasped.

They were all gathered around Luc.

Primpton yelled at the press. “There’s the jezebel! Take her picture. Tell the good people of Lafayette not to glorify a woman who reveals and sells her body to strangers.”

Alyssa sighed. More of the same spiel. Didn’t this moron ever get bored? Or give a shit about facts? Customers never got laid at Sexy Sirens.

At the councilman’s shout, cameras swung in her direction. Shutters clicked. Alyssa hid behind her sunglasses and opened her mouth to address the reporters with her prepared press release in hand.

Instead, Luc spoke. “Thank you for coming today. I’m excited to be the guest chef at Bonheur. I have no doubt it will become Lafayette’s premier fine-dining experience. I’ve personally overseen this week’s menu, infusing it with the flavors from my books. You’ll be in for a real treat. From décor to food and wine, it’s top notch.”

“How did you get involved with Bonheur?” called one reporter.

Alyssa bit her lip. Of all the questions the press could ask, that wasn’t one he could answer honestly without making her bad public opinion worse.

“Ms. Devereaux and I have mutual friends and have been acquainted for some months. She was kind enough to assist me with a matter not long ago. When the opportunity to repay her kindness arose, I happily said yes.”

“What sort of matter?” shouted one reporter. “Was it sexual?”

“It was a family matter, actually,” Luc lied smoothly. “She helped me settle something between my cousin and me. She’s quite sage. And that shows in everything she’s created at Bonheur. The more I’ve been involved with the restaurant and its staff, the more impressed I’ve become.”

Alyssa blinked. Luc was smooth. And that he’d said such things, press or no, amazed her.

“What dishes will you make for the restaurant’s opening?” another reporter asked.

Wow, with a little charm and some misdirection, the press had suddenly focused on something besides publicly branding her a whore. Of course, having a celebrity like Luc in town was news for Lafayette, but still . . .

“Who cares what he cooks?” Primpton shouted. “She’s whoring for him, and he’s allowing himself to be led down the sinner’s path. Pray for him; there’s time to save his immortal soul. But her!” Primpton speared a meaty finger toward Alyssa. “Condemn the devil’s mistress who’s infiltrated the good town of Lafayette and seeks to corrupt our community and its morality!”

“I’ll be cooking some new dishes I’m very excited about,” Luc continued as if Primpton had never spoken. “There’s an eggplant ravioli appetizer that’s to die for. I have a pan-seared fillet with pearl onions, feta cheese, and a rich burgundy glaze that will melt in your mouth. Dessert is a surprise. The whole menu is amazing, and I urge you to attend in the next week and see for yourself how special Bonheur is. You won’t be disappointed. The first hundred tables will receive a signed booklet with the week’s recipes.”

Alyssa did a double take. Booklets? That was generous of him.

Reporters shouted more questions at Luc after that, but he merely turned on the dazzling charm. Then he looked her way. With his first glance, his eyes nearly popped from his head.

Hmm. Was the pencil-slim skirt and white button-down blouse with classic pumps too ridiculous?

Though Luc’s expression didn’t answer her unspoken question, he recovered quickly and gestured to her. “Here’s the lovely lady who can answer all of your questions. Alyssa Devereaux has worked incredibly hard to make Bonheur a reality. I don’t want to steal her thunder. Why don’t you tell them all the wonderful things about your new place?”

Something stung her eyes. Tears? Damn it! But there they were. Luc had done something . . . nice for her. And the press was transfixed by him.

She was no different. Alyssa blinked away her tears.

Out of the corner of her gaze, she caught Primpton and his followers fuming in silence. Rejoicing inside, she approached Luc, bursting with gratitude. For now, all she could do was mouth, Thank you.

Later, she’d show him exactly how much his support meant to her.

LUC had a headache, one that emanated from his clenched jaw and pounded in his temples. It clawed up the back of his neck and made his eyebrows throb. The source of the pain stood not five feet from him, dressed again in a saucy, up-to-there skirt and a come-hither smile.

After Primpton left in defeat, the action at Sexy Sirens started swinging. Now Alyssa smiled at a group of males all crowding around her. Luc couldn’t hear the conversation, but there was no missing the way she crossed those long legs slowly, rubbing one against the other, then perched on the edge of her chair with a coy glance. The men—of all ages—nearly swallowed their tongues. So did Luc.

Tyler hovered behind her chair protectively. That was his job. But one of the other guys edged too close to Alyssa and tried to steal a kiss. In a blink, the bouncer grabbed his jersey and shoved him back. Before the guy finished stumbling, Tyler had his hand resting possessively on Alyssa’s shoulder.

“No touching, boys. You know the rules.” Tyler looked only too happy to remind them.

That didn’t deter Alyssa’s audience. One guy dropped to his knees, a breath away from her thighs, and got an eyeful of her legs—and took the scenic route to her breasts.

Now it wasn’t just Luc’s head throbbing, but his blood as well. The asshole was completely objectifying her, staring at a collection of her body parts. What the fuck did he know about her as a woman?

Haven’t you been guilty of the same offense? Luc shoved the voice in his head away.

As Tyler dragged the trash at Alyssa’s feet upright, the biggest of the younger men bent close. He braced one hand against the back of the chair and whispered in her ear.

She looked trapped against the chair. Tyler was still scuffling with the other scumbag. And Luc had seen enough.

Suppressing a growl, he stomped toward Alyssa, ready to bust heads. But Tyler got there first, knocking the would-be whisperer back with a snarled, “You know the rules. Back the fuck off, Peter.”

Peter? The guy she’d mentioned after they’d found the knife in her car?

Then Tyler lifted Alyssa, sat in her chair, and set her on his lap. His hand rested high on her thigh, the other on her waist. And the bouncer’s fingers weren’t still. They roamed, his thumb brushing the curve of her breast, his other palm disappearing under her skirt, over her hip.

Alyssa didn’t blink, much less fight him off.

This intimacy didn’t look as if it was purely for show, since Alyssa seemed entirely comfortable with the asshole’s touch. They looked like lovers.

Luc glanced at his watch. Shit. It was only 9:00. He couldn’t see this for another five hours without puking. Or hitting someone. Or grabbing her and staking a claim he couldn’t keep.

The phone in his pocket vibrated, and Luc grabbed it, thankful for anything to do. Deke.

“Where are you?”

“Hi to you, too, Cuz. I’ve had a great day; thanks for asking.”

Closing his eyes, Luc tried to get a handle on his temper. “Sorry. Just edgy. I thought you were coming today to look at Alyssa’s security system.”

“Nearly there. I need to talk to you for a few minutes. Meet me at the back door?”

Deke wasn’t the talking type. He’d almost rather cut his tongue out, so his request thumped into the pit of Luc’s stomach. Whatever it was couldn’t be good.

“On my way,” he answered grimly, glad to be out of eyesight of Tyler mauling Alyssa.

Within minutes, Deke pounded a fist on the back door. It was almost impossible to hear with Muse blasting in the background, but Luc swung the door wide for his cousin. Deke entered the club, all tense mien and watchful gaze. You could take the man out of the military, but . . .

“What’s up?” Luc demanded.

With an uneasy glance around, Deke asked, “Is there someplace we can talk?”

Luc hesitated. “Come with me.”

Circling back across the club’s floor, Luc was grateful that the crowd around Alyssa had swelled until he could no longer see Tyler touch her. He kept heading toward the front, then paused at the bar, sliding a fifty-dollar bill across the surface.

“Give me as many Heinekens as this buys.”

The bartender, whom Luc had met only in passing, shrugged and deposited the money in the till, then slid eight longneck bottles across the smooth, well-worn surface.

Luc handed the first four to his cousin, then picked up the rest. “Come with me.”

Deke raised a brow but said nothing as he followed Luc to Alyssa’s private, soundproofed office. Luc kicked the door shut, slammed the bottles on Alyssa’s desk, and tore one open. He drank the whole thing in three swallows.

“Jesus!” Deke stared in shock. “You okay?”

How the hell did he answer that? “Crappy day.”

Deke set the bottles in his hands down, then lowered himself into a chair. He looked nervous. Damn nervous. Luc instantly regretted his behavior. Deke clearly had something weighing on his mind, far beyond petty jealousy for a woman who wasn’t even his.

“It will pass. What did you want to talk about?”

Deke grabbed a beer, opened it . . . stalled for time. “Man, I don’t know where to start. I meant to be out here sooner today.” He swallowed. “But instead we dropped in on Kimber’s family this morning.”

Long drive for an impromptu visit. “Is everything okay with her father?”

“Yeah, Edgington is a tough old bastard.” Deke took a long drag on his beer.

Luc felt ready to scream. What the hell did Deke need to tell him that he didn’t want to? “Hunter? Logan?”

“Kimber’s brothers are fine. We just thought we owed them—Damn it.” Deke leaned forward in his chair, set his beer aside, and shot Luc a direct, apologetic glance. “I wanted to tell you face-to-face. Myself.” He swallowed. “Kimber is six weeks’ pregnant.”