"Thanks, Hank. You always know what's best for me. If you weren't a guy, I'd marry you. Or maybe you could just adopt me. You'd make someone a great mom." Rip took the two pills and tossed them back, followed by the water. He turned his back to the wet T-shirt contest and rested his elbows on the counter.
"What's on your mind, Rip? You look like a man with a problem." Hank stopped cleaning the counter in mid-swipe.
Rip knew from the sound of water splashing and girls squealing that he'd lost his friend's undivided attention. In a falsetto voice, he said, "Maybe we shouldn't get married after all-how would I know you'd be faithful to me."
Hank popped him with the cleaning rag. "All right, already. Tell mama what your problem is."
"I don't know, Hank, seems like the things I used to like doing have lost their appeal." Rip ran a hand through his hair and looked around as Bambi shrieked and giggled when the cold water washed over her chest. Rip absently noted how the tips of her breasts puckered through the thin lacy bra and T-shirt before he turned back to Hank.
"You mean having any woman you want any night of the week is not as much fun as it used to be?" Hank shook his head. "What's the matter, Rip? Are you bored with Bambi, or is she just too young for you?"
"Bambi? Oh, yeah." Funny, but even though he was out with Bambi, she had been the furthest person from his mind, wet T-shirt and all. All Rip could think about was Casey's call. Rip glanced over his shoulder at Bambi's pendulous wet breasts and shook his head. Intelligent conversation was not one of Bambi's attributes, but he'd never really wanted to talk to her. Casey's words struck a little too close to home for his comfort.
Rip's thoughts turned defensive. And who was she to judge him? The only man he'd ever seen Casey go out with was Brent the sound tech, and that had been on a shopping trip to the mall. You couldn't call a date with Brent Blakely a real honest-to-goodness date, could you? Not with a straight face. I mean what real man went to the mall on purpose?
What made a woman like Casey attracted to a man like Brent? Hell, he wouldn't even put him in the "man" category. He was too...girly. He made Rip nervous whenever he flipped his wrist and squealed like a girl-actually a lot like Bambi. Not that Brent had ever come on to Rip, but he'd bet his favorite Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt the guy was gay.
It wasn't that Rip was opposed to gays, Hank was gay and great friend, but what did Casey see in Brent that she didn't see in him? It must be that Brent and Casey had more in common. Perhaps it was because they both liked the same clothes and makeup.
"Earth to Rip. Earth to Rip."
Rip looked up to see Hank speaking into a beer bottle like it was a microphone.
"Sorry, Hank. I guess my mind was elsewhere."
"Well, it's obviously not on Bambi." Hank glanced over Rip's shoulder again at the sound of the applause. "So, who is she?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Who's the girl you've got on your mind?"
Rip cringed. "Am I that transparent?"
"Absolutely, pal."
"It's not what you're thinking. There's this woman at the station who's driving me nuts."
"Seems like the story always starts that way." A sympathetic smile tugged at Hank's lips.
"Yeah, well, she really is driving me nuts," Rip repeated with more conviction. "She represents everything I've rebelled against in the past. She's Miss Perfect-never has a hair out of place or a wrinkle in anything. She's stuck-up and entirely too much of a smart-ass. She needs to be brought down a peg or two. Down to the level of us mere mortals."
"And you're just the man to do it?" Hank's brows waggled wickedly.
"Yeah!" Rip slapped the counter. "I'm just the man to do it. I've spent my whole life rebelling against neckties and starched shirts. I've done damned well without the structure."
"Speaking of neckties, how are your folks?" Hank rubbed at the countertop with his rag, avoiding Rip's gaze.
"Huh?" Rip's eyes narrowed. "Fine, they're fine. Why to you ask?"
"Just curious. Did you ever mend the bridges on that front?"
"No." Suddenly the urge to talk dried up, and Rip turned around on his barstool to gaze unseeingly at the wet women on the stage.
"Sorry, man, didn't mean to poke an old wound." By Hank's tone, Rip guessed he meant to do just that.
Rip's parents had never approved of his lifestyle and occupations. That had no clue as to just how much money he'd made and how many corporations he'd purchased over the past ten years. All they'd ever seen was the carpenter working with the men remodeling the businesses he'd purchased, or the talk show host at what they didn't realize was his latest acquisition. His show was an embarrassment to them, which was fine by Rip. All he wanted to do was live as he saw fit. They could accept him as a talk show host or not. He felt no need to inform them that their black sheep had made it big.
From the time he was kid, his father told him he would follow in his footsteps and take on the family's public relations firm when he came of age. The trouble was having his future pre-planned, a burden Rip refused to shoulder. He'd done everything in his power to keep his parent's plans from coming to fruition. If they'd wanted him to do something a certain way, he'd done it just the opposite.
After high school, Rip had moved from Dallas to College Station and enrolled in Texas A&M. He'd paid his own way by taking a job working the sound equipment at the local radio station at night to make ends meet, refusing to take one dollar of his father's money.
He'd met Tanner, Gage and Jesse in an honors business class. Each of them had been broke, down to their last dime and desperate to make it on their own. They'd made a pact that their combined wealth would be in the billions by the time they reached thirty. They'd called themselves the Texas Billionaires Club. They'd put their heads together coming up with the best decisions in their respective fields of interest and amassed fortunes.
By the age of thirty, they'd made it. Several months ago, K-YAK radio station had come on the market. The station represented everything his father had wanted him to take over in Dallas in the family business. Only Rip had the opportunity to do it his way. He saw the acquisition of K-YAK as a way to prove to his father that he could have managed the family's communication business on his own terms.
While his bankers and attorneys worked on the deal, Rip had applied for a position as a talk show host. Dave had hired him on a probationary condition based on his demo recording, stating Rip had a good voice. He subbed him in for one of the late night hosts who'd been showing up drunk to the station and generally making a mess of his own show. Rip proved himself the first night as a natural cut-up and soon had his own show.
After the first week, he'd realized he enjoyed the job and, for the most part, liked the talent and staff at K-YAK. All in all, he'd been pretty satisfied with his life, his acquisition and the direction his purchase of the station was going.
Until Casey Cramer had crawled under his skin. No matter what he'd done, he couldn't seem to get her off his mind. He wanted her more than any woman he'd ever wanted in his life. He suspected she was the one for him. But damn, she was a lot of work. In the meantime, he'd been testing the water with other women to make sure he could actually give up his womanizing lifestyle and settle on one.
A huge round of applause erupted, accompanied by wolf calls as the winner was announced. Bambi squealed, hopping up and down in place. The crowd applauded louder as her breasts bounced and jiggled with each hop. Rip smiled then yawned, ready to go home and get some much-needed sleep. He glanced around the barroom, hoping to find someone who looked like Bambi's absent friend.
When Bambi finally made her way over to Rip, he handed her a towel to dry off.
"Where is your friend?" Rip asked.
Bambi patted her face gently to avoid smearing her makeup and looked around. "I don't know. I thought she said she was coming here."
"We've been here over an hour. If she's not here by now, likely she won't be coming. I can give you a ride home-if we leave now."
"So soon?" Bambi looked around at her new fan club wistfully.
"You're welcome to stay and catch a cab, but I'm ready for bed."
"In that case, I'm ready, too." She batted her eyes and turned with a flounce, her wet breasts jutting forward even more than a moment before.
"Better wear your earplugs, Rip," Hank shouted over the noise of the bar as Rip and Bambi made their way to the exit.
As far as Rip was concerned, he wouldn't need those earplugs. Bambi wasn't staying the night with him.
Later that night, Rip leaned back on the couch, wishing he'd listened to Hank's advice. His ears still rang from Bambi's enthusiastic squeals.
After they'd left the Piki Tiki, Bambi informed him the key to her apartment was on the key chain she'd loaned to her friend. She had no way of getting into her place. Her friend wasn't answering her cell phone, and Bambi conveniently had no other friend she could call at the late hour to stay with.
Forced with the decision to leave Bambi sitting on her own doorstep for the night or spending money on a hotel room for her, he'd made the sacrifice and offered to let her sleep on his couch. She'd happily accepted.