Jo Leigh - One-Click Buy - September Harlequin Blaze

“This is…”

“Rose,” she quickly interjected, cutting Harry off before he could say her real name. She cleared her throat, seeking the sultry, husky tones she’d always used when greeting fans backstage at Radio City. The one that was quite different from the voice Nick had heard at the bakery just a couple of days before. “Nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand. She took it. Time didn’t stop or anything, and the floor didn’t buckle beneath her feet. But, damn, his touch did feel fine.

He had big hands. Strong hands. A soldier’s competent hands. They were capable of brute force. Yet equally capable, she knew, of tender care. Like when those hands had helped her pull her ugly bridesmaid dress into place, then gently lifted her back onto the dance platform and back into their waltz so many years ago.

“Nick’s brother Joey Santori sent him in. You remember him, don’t you? He did all the work upstairs. You met him last month.”

Yes, she had…and it had been a closer call than this meeting with Nick, who could see almost nothing of her face because of the mask. She’d barely had time to duck behind a changing screen before coming face to face with Nick’s older brother.

Now she had to wonder…had Joe seen her? Recognized her? And was he now playing Mr. Neighborhood Protector by sending his baby brother in to watch out for the girl up the block?

Possible.

God save her from Italian men.

One plus-he hadn’t told Tony. Because no way would her overprotective brother-in-law have let Izzie’s new job go undiscussed. He’d have come down on her with some big brother lecture about how she simply had to quit now, immediately, if not sooner. Either that or he’d have told Gloria, who would have had a shrieking meltdown over what the neighbors and her sweet, impressionable boys-wild little maniacs, in Izzie’s opinion-would think.

“Harry, help! Some CEO’s at the door saying he had reservations for ten,” a frantic voice called from the top of the stairs. The hostess who worked the front desk came clattering down three stairs and spotted him, relief evident in her face. “You need to get up here.”

Muttering under his breath, Harry offered Nick an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. Never fails. Tell you what, why don’t you talk to…Rose…get an idea of what her routine and schedule are like and then meet me upstairs in thirty minutes?”

Nick nodded and they both watched Harry walk away. Well, Nick watched Harry. Izzie watched Nick.

She hadn’t noticed at first-she’d been too frazzled herself-but Nick appeared tense. The muscles in his neck were rock hard, his jaw jutted out stiffly. Beneath his wickedly tight black T-shirt, his broad shoulders were squared in his military posture and his hands were fisted at his sides.

Interesting.

If she had to guess, she’d say he wasn’t particularly happy to meet her. It was as if he actively disliked her…which didn’t make much sense.

The only reason he could have for already disliking her was that he had somehow recognized her. That he’d looked into her eyes, revealed behind the mask, and seen something familiar. Or heard a note in her voice that he’d heard before. He certainly hadn’t seemed very happy with Izzie-the-baker when she’d practically pushed him out of the bakery the other evening and imagined he’d convinced himself she was at best a pain in the ass and at worst a complete tease.

But if he looked at her and saw only a complete stranger…what could he dislike about her after knowing her for all of two minutes? Nick wasn’t the judgmental type. She couldn’t see him working here if he had some kind of problem with women stripping.

Besides, his dislike seemed personal, directed only at her. He’d been perfectly fine with Harry.

“So, is tonight your first night?” she asked, keeping her tone low and thick. She sounded sultry-wicked-but that couldn’t be helped. She needed to disguise her voice, at least until she knew for sure whether Nick had recognized her. Or if he’d been tipped off by his big brother.

“Yes.”

“How do you like the club?”

He shrugged, noncommittal.

“Come now, you’re not shocked are you? I imagine you’ve been in places like this all over the world.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “How would you know I’ve been all over the world?”

Oh, man, that was stupid. She’d just tipped her hand. “I mean…you look like the military type, with the hair and the all-black commando look you have going on. Am I right?”

He nodded once, still not unbending one iota.

Izzie had to force herself not to react to all that simmering, intense male heat. Nick had been adorably sexy when flirting with her and trying to pick her up. And incredibly sensual when seducing her with his kiss.

Now…when he was all dark, intense business, he was absolutely devastating. Dangerous, almost, and though she’d never feared him, she couldn’t contain a tiny shiver.

If he decided to kiss her now, it wouldn’t be with sweet, sultry persuasion. It would be with raw, overpowering hunger.

She wanted that kind of kiss from him.

“I saw you here last weekend,” she said, not even realizing she was going to admit such a thing until the words had left her mouth. That probably wasn’t smart. She needed to keep the upper hand here-letting Nick know she’d been aware of him from first glance wasn’t a good way to do that.

“I came in to talk to Harry about the job.”

“And you watched me dance.” She dared him to deny it.

He nodded once. The jaw flexed.

“Did you like it?”

“You’re talented.”

Oh, if only he knew.

“You’re not…uncomfortable around me, are you?” she asked, trying not to laugh. “I mean, having seen so much of me?”

He shook his head. The shoulders tensed. “This is a job, Miss…”

“Rose will do.”

“As you wish. The point is, I want to keep you…all of you…safe. Meaning we need to implement some new security procedures.” He sounded impersonal, but every movement or flex of his body screamed that his tone was a lie. He was definitely reacting to her and Izzie would lay money it had nothing to do with him knowing her real identity.

If he knew who she was, he’d never remain stiff and unyielding, trying to keep up this professional act. He’d be either seducing her-finishing what he’d started the other day-or else he’d be lecturing her for doing something so out of character for a nice Italian girl from the neighborhood.

Nope. He didn’t know who she was. No way in hell. So why he was being so stiff and gruff, she really didn’t know.

“Would you like to come in while I change?” she asked, gesturing to the closed door behind her. It had a cheesy little tinfoil star on it-a joke from one of the other dancers, who’d been remarkably welcoming after the first week or two. Considering their clientele had increased significantly since she’d been performing at the club, she figured they were all benefiting from the “mystery” of the Crimson Rose.

He hesitated for only a moment. Then nodded. “Sure.”

Opening the door, she walked in and ushered him in behind her. “Sorry for the mess.”

The space was crowded-one mirror, surrounded by bright lights, covered an entire wall. A long, sturdy vanity, connected to the wall, ran the width of the room, reducing the floor space to about a three-foot wide aisle. The vanity was covered with makeup and hair products. Not to mention G-strings and pasties.

He saw those and blanched, quickly looking away. Shifting uncomfortably, he moved back the tiniest bit, but was stopped from going far by the door, which Izzie had closed behind him.

A muscle worked in his cheek and he crossed his massive arms tightly across his chest. His feet spreading a little apart, he looked like a sturdy, unmovable sea captain standing on the deck of a ship. Unapproachable, unweatherable, unflappable.