Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

She was every bit as out of her element in this old-new environment as he was. Fitting in about as well as he did.

Fitting in…hell, what he was doing right now was proof he didn’t fit in. It was Thursday night and he was holding a brown paper bag clutched to his side. Walking to his building, his eyes scanned side to side in the hope that he didn’t bump into his parents or another elderly relative who’d rat him out.

Chinese carry-out was probably grounds for his mother to call for an exorcism. Especially since he’d refused yet another doggy bag full of calzones and Pop’s lasagna tonight. If he bit another piece of pasta, he was going to explode like the giant marshmallow man in Ghost Busters.

“Tough,” he muttered, his mouth watering for the Kung Pao Chicken he could smell from the bag. Not to mention the eggrolls, fried rice…he’d bought enough to feed an army.

Nick knew a little something about clandestine missions. Enough to know that when you were on one, you accomplished as much as you could the first time, in the hopes that you could delay going back. And a big bag of food meant leftovers. Enough to last a week or so, meaning no more dangerous, secret excursions to Mr. Wu’s for a while.

Unless, of course, he had unexpected company for dinner. Female company. Like the female standing right outside his apartment door, her hand lifted to knock.

“Izzie?” he mumbled as soon as he stepped off the elevator, wondering not only how she’d gotten into the building, but also how she’d found out where he lived.

She whirled around, her eyes wide and bright. She hadn’t knocked yet, which meant she hadn’t quite prepared herself to face him. He’d caught her off guard.

Nick tried not to wonder what this meant, tried to remain casual. Tried not to notice how curvy and inviting her body looked in her tight tank top and sexy short skirt.

It would be like not noticing an earthquake shaking your house down around you. She was just too beautiful to ignore.

As they continued to stare, he finally murmured, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

They said nothing else for a moment. Long enough for him to notice the smudges of shadow beneath her pretty brown eyes and the paleness in her cheeks. She was practically biting a hole in her bottom lip as she tried to figure out what to say.

He couldn’t help taking pity on her…at least taking pity on that gorgeous lip before she bit a hole right through it. Shifting his bag to his other hip, he walked to the door and lifted his keys to the lock. “You hungry?”

She glanced at the bag. “No pizza?”

“Nope. I’ve got egg foo young, lo mein, couple of different chicken dishes, you name it.”

“Oh, God, feed me,” she exclaimed, following him into the apartment with a smile on her face.

Once inside, she tossed her purse onto his couch, a large one that dominated the small living area of the very small apartment. He didn’t mind-compared to sharing a barracks with twenty other guys, this was pure luxury. He’d picked the place because it was clean and high, with a great view of the college a few blocks away. And he’d barely started furnishing it, figuring he’d get the most important things first.

Big, comfortable reclining leather couch. Big TV for watching football. He could live for a while on that…plus the huge, comfortable bed dominating his bedroom.

A flow of warmth washed through him at the thought of that bed. He’d imagined Izzie in it many times. He’d dreamed of her in it many times.

Now, here she was. So close he could smell her perfume and hear her breaths. Like a fantasy come to life.

“Minimalist, huh?” she asked as she stared pointedly at the couch and the big screen TV.

“I’m working on it.”

He couldn’t believe how normal they sounded. Like two old friends getting together for dinner. Considering the last two times they’d been alone they’d been either fighting or practically ripping each other’s clothes off, he figured that was a pretty good trick.

“I, uh, wanted to…”

“Save it,” he muttered, not wanting to start their discussion yet. “I’m hungry. Let’s eat first.”

Relief washed over her pretty face as she followed him into the kitchen. When she lifted something up onto the counter, he realized she hadn’t come empty handed.

“Peace offering.” She pointed toward a six-pack of beer.

“Are we at war?” he asked, repeating a question she’d once asked him.

“We’ve been doing a lot of battling.”

Yes, they had. And he, for one, was tired of it.

Getting some bowls, plates and silverware, he spread all the food out on his small kitchen table, and they each loaded up, smorgasbord style. “Where…”

“Do you mind the floor?” he asked.

Shrugging, she followed him into the living room, watching as he sat down in front of the sofa, stretching his legs out in front of him, with his plate on his lap. It wasn’t quite as easy for her, since she wore a skirt.

Nick forced himself to focus on his food, not on her long, sexy legs so close to his on the floor. Picking up the TV remote, he flicked the power button, then channeled up to a station playing soft music. It was background noise, filling the silence that grew thicker as they ate…as they drew closer to the conversation they both knew they were about to have.

When they’d finished, he took their plates into the kitchen. She followed, working on putting away the food. Within a few moments, there was nothing left to do-no dinner to eat, no dishes to clean-nothing to do but face each other.

“I don’t want to do this,” he said, surprising them both.

“Do what?”

“Fight with you. Do battle. Whatever you want to call it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to either. But I need to tell you…I need to get this out.”

Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the kitchen counter and waited. “Okay.”

She closed her eyes, then spoke in a rush. “I’m sorry I was dishonest with you about being the Crimson Rose. At first, I didn’t trust you-didn’t trust anyone. I’m sure you know that my parents wouldn’t be happy about what I’m doing, and I don’t want to do anything to add to my father’s health problems.”

“I understand that.” He did. It made perfect sense for her to go incognito at her risqué job. “But once you and I…

“I know.” She raked a hand through her brown hair, which was loose around her shoulders tonight, rather than up in its usual ponytail. “I should have told you immediately. Instead I panicked and pushed you away.”

“Yeah. I gotta say, I felt pretty damn humiliated when I figured it out. I should have known you.”

“I am a performer. I know about portraying someone else.”

“About that…when did you start in this line of work?”

“Stripping’s not my line of work. Dancing is. I was with the Rockettes until a year ago.”

“You were one of those kick-line chicks?”

She glared at him. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“Right. Tough life dancing with giant nutcrackers and Santa Claus.” He quickly put his hand up. “I’m joking. You must have been damn good to make it.”

“I was,” she said, with complete confidence. “But I got bored with it and went with a modern dance company in Manhattan. Then came the injury. Then came Dad’s stroke. Now I’m here.”

Her life in a nutshell.

“And now what?” he asked, knowing that was the question he really wanted answered. Where was she going from here? Where did she see him fitting into that?

“I don’t know. Right now I’m biding time, trying to figure out what I want.” Her jaw tightening, she continued. “But it’s not the bakery, and it’s not the neighborhood. It’s not Gloria’s life-a repeat of my mother’s. And it’s not my sister Mia’s life as a hard-ass lawyer with tons of drive and no happiness.”