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a student majoring in psychology and working her way through school.”
    Brad let out a bark of laughter, clearly amused by the turn of events. “Dude,” he said, his eyes dancing with delight as he looked at Cole. “You just bought yourself an intervention.”
    And since he’d doubled her fee up-front, the woman obviously wasn’t worried about a tip.
    “My name’s Brandy. Any requests?” she asked Brad.
    “No need for a lap dance,” Brad said. “A simple striptease will do.”
    She shrugged. “It’s your dime.”
    Brad hiked a thumb at Cole, clearly pleased with himself. “Actually, it’s his dime.”
    The next five minutes were the most uncomfortable of Cole’s life. Redheaded Brandy of the silicone-filled breasts and thighs of steel slowly unzipped a dress that didn’t resemble anything a self-respecting nurse would be caught dead wearing. Her four-inch-high heels wouldn’t have lasted five minutes of a grueling twelve-hour shift, and don’t even get him started on the outdated, fifties-style nursing hat. Cole mostly watched Brad, who unfortunately seemed oblivious to the beautiful woman now dressed in nothing but a thong and a push-up bra. The younger man’s eyes remained firmly fixed on Cole’s.
    As if daring him to look away.
    As if daring him to… something.
    Brandy halted middance and dropped her hands from her back, leaving the bra intact as the music thumped on. “I’m feeling a little unnecessary here, boys.”
    “Nothing personal,” Brad said. “I’m just sorry my friend here isn’t enjoying the show.”
    The glimmer of defiant humor in his eyes twisted the knot of irritated nerves coiling in Cole’s stomach.
    “I think I can help with that,” Brandy murmured.
    Clearly one to go with the flow, the dancer rounded Brad’s chair and leaned over him from behind. She reached around to the front of Brad’s shirt, hands hovering.
    “May I?” she asked.
    With his most wicked expression yet, Brad said, “By all means, help yourself.”
    When she popped the button at his throat, sweat broke out on the back of Cole’s neck.
    Good God, this isn’t happening.
    This was not how he’d envisioned this event would go. He’d purchased the lap dance in order to send Brad away and finally escape the green gaze that was slowly killing him.
    The scrutiny was intense. The dancer’s eyes were on Cole, but it was the expression on Brad’s face, the amused quirk of his eyebrow as he watched Cole watch the process, that left him longing to squirm in his seat. Brad found the whole thing funny.
    But Cole refused to flinch first.
    “Now who’s the one being a prick?” Cole said evenly.
    “Me,” Brad said with an unapologetic smile. His voice rumbled with humor. “Glad you paid extra to make it special?”
    Cole tossed back the Scotch and lowered himself to Brad’s adolescent level by doing something he’d never done before in his life— ever . He flipped Brad the bird.
    Brad grinned. “I love you too, man.”
    He’d said it hundreds of times before, and he meant it too. As former roommates. As best friends. As comrades-in-arms in the battle to keep Danny clean. But the recent turn of events left Cole wondering if there was a hidden meaning behind the words his friend tossed out so carelessly.
    And Cole kind of hated Brad for that.
    He’d purchased the lap dance in an effort to make his friend pay, and there Brad sat, beaming as if he’d arranged the screwed-up scenario personally. The Scotch burned through Cole’s body, raising his internal temperature. Or maybe it was the sight of Brad’s shirt parting as the woman worked her way down. True to her word, the dancer didn’t touch, her cheek close to Brad’s as she carefully slipped the buttons free one by one. Until Brad’s pectorals were exposed. He had the perfect chest, and Cole considered himself a seasoned expert. Not too muscular, but lean with beautiful definition. Built enough to capture the attention of even the most resistant