Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

There were moments when she allowed herself not to care. To even consider whether they could make this crazy relationship of theirs work. Maybe a masked wedding…the Crimson Rose and the sexy night watchman.

That was so lame.

But it was no more crazy to think about than the idea of an official union between Izzie Natale and Nick Santori of Taylor Street.

“Would that really be so bad?” she whispered. She’d been telling herself it would, but at moments like this, she had a hard time remembering why.

“I need sugar,” she mumbled as she headed for her kitchen, dying for something sweet. She’d been so good at the bakery and tried to resist temptation, so she never brought any of that stuff home. At moments like these, though, she regretted it.

Nick had called a while ago, saying he’d be leaving the pizzeria in an hour and would come by. She glanced at her watch, wondering if she had time to run to the corner market. She was so desperate she’d go for a packet of Ho Hos at this point.

Before she could grab her shoes and dash for something to binge on, her cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID and recognizing the New York City number, she immediately began to smile, now knowing another sure-fire way to escape-at least mentally-from her troubles.

“V!” she exclaimed as she answered.

“Girl-friend!” was the reply. “It has been for-evah, where have you been?”

Plopping down on the sofa, Izzie kicked her feet up and leaned back, so happy to hear a voice from her old life, she wondered if fate had sent Vanessa’s call as some kind of mental gift. Vanessa was a good friend from her Rockette days. The striking, long-legged African American woman had been Izzie’s roommate on the road and the two of them had hit it off from their very first hotel stay, when they’d both decided to call for room service French fries at two in the morning, despite the matron’s orders to go to sleep by eleven o’clock.

“I’m still in Chicago.”

“Still doing that bakery thing?” Vanessa asked, sounding completely shocked. “I can’t believe you’ve lasted this long.”

“Join the club. I sometimes forget I haven’t spent the past seven years with my arms in cookie dough up to my elbows.”

“How’s your father?

“Getting better every day, already pestering my mother to let him go back to work.”

“That’s great. And as soon as he does you can quit.”

Yes, she could. Why that idea would send a shot of sadness through her, Izzie didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she liked working at the bakery. Even if she had made friends with all the staff, gotten on a first-name basis with their restaurant clients and the regulars who stopped in every day for breakfast.

Well, maybe she did like it. A little. But certainly not enough to want to stay there permanently.

Vanessa laughed softly. “And then you can come home. You still thinking of choreographing, or teaching?”

She had been, though, not as much lately. But she didn’t tell Vanessa that.

Fortunately, her friend quickly moved on. “You’ve got to come back soon. You are so missing out.” Launching into an explanation of all the things that had been going on-with the Rockettes, and in her personal life, Vanessa soon had Izzie laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. The other woman was a wild one, and the ballsiest female she’d ever known.

The stories were entertaining, particularly when told with Vanessa’s flair. But even as she laughed, Izzie couldn’t help wondering whether her friend was truly happy. She sounded a little…empty. Lonely. Bored.

Which made Izzie suddenly remember the way she’d been feeling right before she’d hurt her leg.

Very much the same way.

All the things Vanessa had been describing were things Izzie had been doing the past few years in New York. She missed none of them. Honestly, all she really missed were her friends and her apartment. The lifestyle she’d already begun to outgrow even before she’d been forced to leave it.

Going back to it didn’t sound very palatable.

She shook off that crazy thought-not go back to her life? Insane. Like she had anything better going on here? “So which guy did you shove in the fountain?”

“The French dude. Pierre from Paris. Only, I think his name was probably really Petey from Poughkepsie or something. He wasn’t French any more than my dry wheat toast was French this morning.” Sighing, her friend added, “Why do men suck so bad?”

“Not all of them,” she said before thinking better of it.

Vanessa caught the tone in her voice and leapt on it. “Talk. Who is he? What’s he do? When did you start doing him?”

Having had no one to truly confide in since she’d been here…about her feelings, her relationship with Nick, even a bit about her sexy weekend job, she found herself spilling all of it to Vanessa. She must have talked for a solid five minutes without letting her friend get a word in. Finally realizing that, she whispered, “You still there?”

Vanessa murmured, “Oh, honey. This is serious.”

Yes. It was. Very serious.

“This Nick, I remember you talking about him.”

Izzie was afraid of that. Nick had always been-for her-the dream guy she’d never landed.

Now she’d landed him. She just didn’t know if she was going to get to keep him. Or if he even wanted her to, considering he hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch her dance again at the club.

“He might be a man worth settling down for, Izzie. Giving up your dancing…wait, what the hell did you say is the name of this place you’re dancing at?”

She should have known that would interest her friend more than any potential romance. “It’s called Leather and Lace.”

“Holy shit, girl, you’re strippin’.”

“Yeah. I’m stripping. And I’m having the time of my life.” Well, the stripping wasn’t giving her the time of her life. Nick was. But she’d already talked enough about Nick.

Vanessa demanded all the details on Izzie’s secret life, not sounding the least judgmental, and asking a bunch of questions. “That sounds like fun. You know, I’ve thought about taking a strip-dance exercise class they offer at my health club, but there’s a waiting list.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, honey, I’m not. It is the hottest thing going-there’s a three-month long list to get in this class and everybody I know is putting their name on it. If you come back, you need to teach me how and maybe I’ll retire and we can start a school somewhere. Teach housewives how to shake their booties.”

Izzie laughed softly at that silly idea. Then she thought of the word Vanessa had used. If. “What do you mean, if I come back? Why wouldn’t I come back?”

Vanessa grew very quiet, as if working out what to say. Knowing her friend was street-wise in a way Izzie never had been, she very much wanted to hear it. Anything Vanessa put this much thought into had to be worth hearing.

Finally, her friend murmured, “Why would you come back here when the life you really want is there?”

“You think I want to be a baker for the rest of my life?” Izzie protested, shocked that her friend would even suggest it.

“I don’t know whether you want to be a baker or a stripper. A pizza-delivery gal or a ballerina. All I know is that whatever you end up wanting to do, it’ll be tied up with that man you’ve loved for half your life.”

Izzie’s jaw dropped. She flinched so hard the phone fell onto her lap. Scrambling to get it, she heard Vanessa’s words echoing in her head. Especially because they’d come so quickly-mere minutes-after Izzie had been tearing herself apart to try to figure out just what she felt for Nick.

She really shouldn’t have had to think about it so hard. She knew what she felt for Nick. It was the same thing she’d always felt for him, only deeper now, adult. Sensual. Mature.