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admit—but what she saw was something she sometimes lacked. Confidence.
    Did sexy equal edgy? Was that what Rowe thought she didn’t have?
    Flustered, she looked elsewhere—but the only other place to look was lower. She blushed as she evaluated the model’s curves. She worked out religiously, but modesty would never allow her to wear something so revealing. Something that… Oh God. Heat flashed through her, and she leaned forward, squinting hard.
    Was that a nipple?
    She clapped her hand over her mouth. She got the controversy now. It was impossible to tell. The bustier was cherry red. It could be a frill of the lace…or maybe it wasn’t. One thing was for certain, it was a miracle that the illusion hadn’t caused a high-speed pileup. Going by the challenge in the woman’s eyes, she knew exactly what she was or wasn’t showing off. Lexie would never be capable of pulling off such a devilish smirk.
    But she was feeling pretty evil right now.
    Anger bubbled up inside her, overriding the hurt and confusion. This was slanderous…libelous…whichever applied. Either way, her reputation was being dragged through the mud. She wanted some answers and she wanted them now.
    Reaching over to her GPS, she punched in The Ruckus with a hand that was rock steady. When the address popped up on the screen, she nodded grimly. Nice location, right on the water in the heart of brawler territory.
    The Acura’s tires squealed as she pulled back into traffic. Someone at the bar should be able to tell her how this had all come to be. That billboard hadn’t gotten up there by itself. Someone had designed the ad, someone had worked on the graphics and somebody had paid for it.
    She wondered which Underhill’s name was beside the charge.
    Gritting her teeth, she headed across the Cobalt. Following the GPS’s instructions, she took the first off-ramp. Still, she cursed under her breath when a red light stopped her at the intersection. Another turn back towards the water slowed her down even further, and the road began twisting as it followed the natural course of the river. A few blocks later, she finally saw the neon sign for which she was searching.
    The Ruckus. Even dimmed for the day, it was impossible to miss. She pulled over to the curb to park. At this hour it wasn’t difficult to find a spot, but the spaces closest to the bar’s entrance were too small. She chose one farther down the street and looked at the tightly spaced, parallel white lines as she got out of the car.
    Her appearance was being used to push a biker bar. Great. Just perfect for the family-values crowd.
    She slammed the car door, and her heels clipped determinedly as she strode to the bar’s front door. The neighborhood was known for being rough but, in her mood, she was spoiling for a fight.
    She yanked on the front door, expecting it to be locked. She was surprised when it opened. Stepping inside, she found it too dark to see. She took off her sunglasses but, even then, it was a moment before her eyes could adjust to the dim lighting. The air inside the bar was cool, a welcome relief. Too bad the temperature was about to rise significantly for someone.
    Lexie searched for somebody to question. Someone to blame. Someone at whom she could yell.
    A big guy with a scruffy face and a muscle shirt was working on a light fixture. He’d do.
    She made a beeline for him, and he looked down from his perch atop a chair when he heard her. “Sorry, we’re closed. Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were…”
    His voice drifted off as he stared at her. He did a quick sweep down her body, and Lexie braced herself. She knew she wasn’t their normal clientele. In her suit and four-inch heels, she had to stand out like a sore thumb. Yet the man’s expression was more confused than anything.
    “What’re you doin’?” he asked.
    “I’d like to speak with the person in charge.”
    His look only turned more befuddled. He stood atop the chair, holding the light bulb in his fist