A half dozen overdressed people swept up to the table and grabbed Cat up in a blizzard of hugs and kisses. A small exquisite blonde stood apart from them, frowning at the melee. She looked slightly familiar, and Jared thought he had seen her picture somewhere. She couldn’t possibly be over fifteen years old and he doubted she weighed ninety pounds. The gamin was dressed in a matelot sweater, white slacks and a pair of distressed combat boots. Given the company she was with, he didn’t doubt her outfit had cost more than his entire wardrobe.

“What the fuck are you staring at mate,” the urchin uttered in a nasal Kiwi accent.

“Sorry,” Jared said, startled. “I was wondering how you managed to sneak into the Club.”

“I’m plenty old enough sport. You one of those pervs that likes the young ones then are ya? Not in your wildest dreams you sick bastard. You fancy a quick kick in the goolies then?” She shuffled her booted feet.

Jesus Christ.

“I’m with Cat,” Jared stammered. The words coming out of that angelic countenance were so incongruous he was almost speechless.

“Oh, you’re the one with the old wooden sailboat,” she said, grabbing Jared’s arm and pulling up a chair beside him. “Sorry about that, mate. Since that last photo shoot every weirdo in the fucking universe wants a piece of me. You wouldn’t believe the stuff I hear from some of the assholes out there. I’ve even got a minder now. Me, Sally Owens for fuck sake. My mates back home would die laughing if they knew.”

The big scarred man with the buzz cut who’d been staring at Jared winked.

“You race her then? Did a lot of that back home on the Fourteens. I was damn good too. You should take me out on her sometime. I’m a winner.” She patted Jared’s shoulder, grinned and looked even younger. “I’ll be sure to clear it with Cat first.” She downed her drink and stood up and grabbed her bodyguard’s arm.
“C’mon you ugly mother, dance with me. You’re making everybody else too scared.”