Overexposed. Leslie Kelly
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a few more touches of his hands and a few more of those incredible kisses and she’d be alive and happy and completely fulfilled for the first time in her life.
But then he’d want to take her out for a pizza. Or get together with friends. And she’d be caught so deep in a quagmire of family and home that she’d never be able to get free of it.
“Say yes, Izzie,” he ordered, sucking her earlobe into his mouth and nibbling it—a tiny bite that she felt clear to the floor. “Give me your number and let’s finally get this started.”
Get this started. Get everything started.
She just couldn’t do it. Izzie had always been strong and determined and had taken what she wanted. But she couldn’t take him. Not now. It was much too late.
Yanking away, she winced as her tangled hair got caught in his fingertips. Her breathing ragged, her body crying out at the injustice, she shook her head, hard. Then she backed away, wrapping her arms around her waist in self protection. “No.”
He started to follow, his dark eyes glittering…predatory. “You don’t mean it.”
She held a hand up. “Yes. I do,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re closed and I have work to do in the kitchen.” Taking a deep breath and striving to keep her voice steady, she added, “I want you to leave.”
3
ON HIS FIRST NIGHT working at Leather and Lace, Nick showed up in a bad mood. He’d been in a bad mood for two days—since Izzie Natale had shot down his efforts to get closer to her.
The woman was unbelievable. Ten years ago, she might as well have taken out an ad in the Trib declaring her devotion to him. Now she wouldn’t throw dog drool on him if he was on fire.
Damn, she was feisty. Had she always been that way? He figured with Gloria for a sister she had been. But considering he’d never seen her as a woman—just as a cute, lovesick kid—he’d never noticed. Until now.
Oh, yeah, now he’d noticed. He’d noticed everything about her. And he was not going to give up on her yet. Not when she’d become the first thing he thought of every morning and the star of his dreams every night.
Especially since that incredible kiss they’d shared.
Who would ever have guessed that the cute, pesky girl with the obvious crush on him would prove to be the most sensual, kissable woman he’d ever known? He’d suspected he could kiss her for hours. Now he knew better. He could kiss her for ever.
After she’d ordered him out of the bakery the other evening, he’d decided to play dirty, going right to Gloria to ask her for her sister’s phone number. His sister-in-law had been glad to oblige. She’d also been more than candid about how Izzie had felt about him in the old days.
Not that Nick had needed her to tell him about it. He’d been well aware—as had everyone else.
“Not anymore,” he muttered as he parked his truck—which he’d purchased right after getting home a couple of weeks ago—behind the club. He frowned, wondering how much of a jerk it made him now to be disappointed that a girl who’d had a wild crush on him as a kid didn’t give a damn about him anymore. Probably a pretty big one. But he couldn’t help it.
Knowing little Izzie had been crazy about him had been a constant during his teenage years. A given. Just another part of his reality. Certainly nothing he’d ever taken advantage of or embarrassed her about. It had just been…kinda cute, thinking there was a girl out there doodling his name in her school notebook. Innocent. Simple.
Man, he hated that that girl wouldn’t even look at him now. Especially because he didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve her coldness. No, he hadn’t recognized her. But he also hadn’t recognized the kid who had delivered the newspaper and now ran a newsstand on the corner. Or a couple of guys he’d played basketball with at St. Raphael’s.
Mark thought he did deserve it. Not because he hadn’t recognized her, but because he’d counted on her childhood feelings to give him an edge with Izzie the adult.
Hell, maybe he was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have teased her, been so sure of her. He’d known enough women to know how they felt about being taken for granted. He should have taken her out to dinner before kissing her like he needed the air in her lungs to keep on living.
So he needed to start over with Izzie. Start slow, like he would with any other woman he’d just met.
It might not be easy. Because she already affected him more than any woman he’d ever met. He’d dreamed about her this week, thought about her, gone out of his way to walk past the bakery in the hope of bumping into her.
“Tables have definitely turned,” he muttered aloud when he walked through the private, employees entrance into the back of the club. “Which is probably just the way she wants it.”
Yeah, she could be stringing him along out of revenge. But somehow, Nick didn’t think that was the case.
She hadn’t been able to hide her feelings behind those incredibly expressive brown eyes. Though she’d sent him away after their kiss, she still wanted him. But something was preventing her from doing anything about it.
He just had to find out what.
“Nick, you’re right on time!” The club owner, a beefy, good-natured guy with a Santa Claus-like belly laugh, emerged from his office and extended his hand.
Nick shook it. “Mr. Black.”
“Call me Harry.”
“Harry, then. Thanks again for the opportunity.”
The other man waved a hand in unconcern. “Your big brother, he’s one of the few honest contractors I’ve met in this city. Did beautiful work at a fair price. And if he says you’re up to the job, I trust him completely.”
Nick had already bought his brother, Joe, a beer in thanks for setting up his interview. He wished he’d made it a pitcher.
“All the paperwork’s done, you check out exactly like Joe said you would,” Harry said as he gestured Nick toward a seat in his office. “Now, you’re clear on what I need from you?”
Nick nodded. “Have there been problems recently?”
Harry tapped his fingers on the desk and nodded. “The Rose has made a stir. Men want to see her and there have been a few incidents.”
Nick stiffened reflexively, even though he hadn’t met the woman yet. “Incidents?”
“Nothing too serious, thank God. But a couple of grabs, dressing room prowlers. A few disturbing notes.” Harry shook his head, looking disgusted. “Can’t imagine any man saying stuff that crude to any woman. But she was a sport about it, laughed it off.” Staring pointedly, he added, “That’s one reason I hired you—she tends to not take it seriously. And I want someone else to.”
“I will,” Nick replied, confident of his own words.
Harry nodded, obviously convinced. “Other than that, there’s not too much trouble on a nightly basis. A guy’d have to be drunk as a skunk or just plain stupid to think he could go after one of the girls at the risk of taking one of the bouncers on. But we don’t let anybody get drunk as a skunk in my joint.” He chuckled. “And stupid people can’t afford it.”
That wasn’t a surprise. When Nick had come in last weekend, he’d noticed the upscale feel of the club. Far from being seedy or shadowy, like most strip joints, this place was elegantly comfortable, from the earth-toned leather furniture to the framed pieces of classy-looking art on the walls. The prices reflected the ambiance; this was no after-work beer joint.
“I wanted to introduce you to the Rose, but she called and said she’s running a little late tonight. I don’t imagine there’ll be time before her first number.”