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see what big shot has entered. Of course, it’s Denver, which means expectations are low. When the VIPers see Chance, the air becomes instantly charged with energy. Two voluptuous women in skimpy club wear make a beeline for him. Chance is obviously very used to this. He receives them as if he were expecting them, slipping an arm around both of their waists.  
    “Can I get you a drink?” Lazarus asks, looking at me cautiously.
    “Fuck you.”  
    I turn and push my way through the crowd to an open booth at the back of the room. Exhausted, I collapse onto the seat and close my eyes. The music pounds through my body like a cudgel. I feel sick and confused. I just want to leave. The heat of the place pricks at my skin and I feel the sweat begin to trickle beneath my shirt. Pink and blue lights flash across the dance floor. I look out to see Chance dancing with one of the club chippies. Her arms are draped around his neck and she’s making big doe eyes at him.  
    “May I ask what that was about?”  
    I startle and turn. Lazarus has found me. He pulls off his coat and throws it into the booth. Then he slides all the way around the half circle until he’s beside me. I give him a withering look.  
    “You have got to be kidding.”  
    “Why are you so angry?” He puts a hand on my arm and it makes me shiver. “Mickey, look at me.”  
    But I don’t. I keep my eyes on the dancers as if they were the most hypnotic thing in the world. Chance looks over at me and catches me watching him. He smiles and winks. I lift my chin and smile back, and I make it as flirtatious as possible.  
    “Can I ask you something?” I say, half-turning my head toward Lazarus without giving him my eyes.  
    “Of course.”  
    “Are you on some kind of medication?”
    “What? What are you talking about? Why would…”  
    But I don’t wait for him to finish. Before I can even think twice, I’m on my feet and gliding toward Chance on the dance floor. He grins. With a kiss on the cheek he lets the club chick go, like a dance instructor dismissing a pupil. She frowns and gives me the stink eye. Bring it on. I don’t care about any of you. Fuck the world.  
    I put my arms around Chance’s neck and push my body against his. It’s rock solid. His hands slide around my waist and hang down over my ass. I lift my face to his and give him a sultry smile.  
    “You’ve got some smooth moves, Mr. Hollywood.”  
    He laughs. “Well, romantic lead is my profession.”  
    We move slowly together, much slower than the music. I can feel the heat rising from his body and the dewy skin beneath his clothes. I’m not even thinking about how famous he is now. All I care about is that he’s not Lazarus. I peek over his shoulder to where Lazarus is still sitting in the abandoned booth. His sculpted face is tense, his eyes volcanic with jealousy. What the fuck is his problem? He’s the one who kicked me to the curb. A waitress arrives and puts a bottle of whiskey and a glass in front of him.  
    “Smart chicks make me hot, you know.” Chance’s lips are practically touching my ear.  
    “Is that right?” I take in a deep breath to make my breasts crush against him. “I feel the same way about movie stars.”  
    He chuckles. I glance up. Lazarus is slamming back a whiskey without taking his eyes off us. The spastic lights flash across his face, changing his look, casting him in either light or shadow. He’s an angel. He’s a devil. He’s an angel. He’s a devil. Chance’s hand strokes my backside.  
    Chance’s voice is low, his breath hot on my ear, as he says the words a million girls have only heard him utter in fantasies.  
    “Maybe we should make this party private.”  

Chapter Eight  

    Weirdly, I don’t want to sleep with Chance. He’s the living incarnation of hotness. He’s one of the most famous men alive. His body feels amazing pressed up against me, with all its muscular perfection. But I feel no chemistry with