Waking Up to You Overexposed

4



HE SHOULD NEVER have come in here. Should never have walked into a small room with a woman who already had his head reeling and his body taut with anticipation. One he was supposed to be protecting from guys who’d already threatened her.

Nick had been handling things okay up to now. Even while watching the dancers perform—while watching her perform—he’d felt in control of the situation. Yeah, she’d affected him. Any man not affected by the Crimson Rose had to have been castrated or born with no libido. But her effect was purely physical—not mental, not emotional. In his head, he still only saw one woman. Wanted one woman. And that was Izzie Natale.

He’d been feeling cool and confident when Harry had brought him downstairs to meet her. A little of that confidence had disappeared when he’d gotten close enough to her to smell the light, delicate perfume she wore—so at odds with her surroundings and her profession. His coolness had gone right out the window when she’d ushered him into her small dressing room where he’d felt like a bear trapped in a telephone booth.

And now...this...seeing her in the mirror?

Madness.

He’d seen her almost naked onstage and she’d stunned him. Now, close up, she blew his mind. Even wearing something that might pass for clothing on a sun-drenched beach, she was every bit as seductive as she’d been during her naked dance.

She was tall and she was curvy and she was soft and she was breathtaking. Her full breasts were contained by a bra that cupped the bottoms but left the tops nearly bare. Her cleavage spilled over the seam and the dark, pointed tips of her nipples thrust against the white lace, demanding attention.

Every man in the room had seen her breasts upstairs minutes ago, but now, up close, Nick was able to truly appreciate their perfection. How perfectly they’d fit in his hands, how delightful her nipples would taste against his tongue.

Nick drew in a deep breath, letting his attention drift lower. His gaze skimmed over the midriff, the slim waist. It lingered on the generous hips highlighted by the strips of white—the strings of her panties—slung over each one. The elastic top of her panties skated across the pale, vulnerable-looking skin below her hip bones. A tiny tuft of pretty brown curls peeked out from the top of them, the dark shadow behind the white silk was all he could see of the rest.

This was more than she revealed in her dance, and every male cell in his body reacted to the glorious sight. His heart rate slowed, the way it did when the world around him became dead serious. He swallowed—his mouth flooding with hunger. And his cock leaped, raging for release against his zipper.

The vanity interfered with the rest of his view, leaving him ripped with curiosity as his mind filled in the blanks of what he was not seeing. Those long legs. She had legs that could wrap around him twice, he knew that much from her dance.

It was all too easy to imagine lifting her onto that strong, flat surface, spreading her legs, then pulling up a chair to sit between them. He’d push her back, then loop her knees over his shoulders. Dipping his head in close for a thorough exploration, he’d sample those pretty curls and the shiny folds that they concealed. He’d pleasure her completely, devour her until his face was wet with the slickness of her arousal. He’d take the edge off his hunger, then focus only on her, giving himself a long time before he’d look up to watch the pleasure on her face as her orgasm rolled through her.

But in the vision, it wasn’t the masked face of a stranger he saw. It was Izzie’s face. This stranger had aroused him. Izzie was the one he wanted to fulfill him.

He needed to get out of here. Now. Because even if Izzie had shot him down—if there was absolutely nothing between them—she was still the one he really wanted. The one he’d dream about tonight, whether he got his rocks off right now or not.

He could do this stranger...and it might even be good. But it wouldn’t get rid of his hunger. And it sure as hell would complicate things here in his new job.

Logically, he knew all that. The good Santori son who couldn’t imagine bringing a woman like this around his traditional family should have been gone long before now.

Something made him stay. Maybe it was the other Nick. The one who’d grown predatory on the battlefield and bored in the real world. The one who’d been shot down by the reluctant woman he craved and was face-to-face with a willing one he desired.

They just locked eyes, hers mostly hidden behind that mask she still wore. Her lips slowly curled up into a sensuous smile and her chin came up in pure visual challenge.

Nick couldn’t help it. He started to smile, too, a tight, dangerous smile that few would have recognized on the face of one of the affable Santori boys. “I don’t think that screen works very well,” Nick managed to say, his voice throaty.

“I’d say that depends on what I want it to do.”

Knowing better, he asked, “If not giving you privacy to change, what is it you want it to do?”

The smile widened, a glitter of pleasure appearing in those shaded eyes. “Perhaps just heighten the anticipation. It’s amazing how much more arousing it is to see some...but not all.”

“You show almost all onstage.”

“Almost,” she conceded. “But if you noticed, it’s mostly flash and petals, and only a tiny glimpse at the end.”

His jaw clenched. “I noticed.”

“Did it make you want more? Did a glimpse make you hunger for a look...which in turn made you ravenous for a touch?”

Which would make him insane for a taste.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. She saw the answer in his face. As if tired of the game, she stepped out from behind the screen, still wearing only three things: the minuscule panties, the skimpy bra and the red velvet mask, which was bigger than either of the other two.

“Why don’t you take that off?” he asked, needing to see her face. He needed to find something about her that turned him off so he could get upstairs where his boss was waiting. So he could put her out of his head and get his libido back under control.

Quirking a questioning brow, she pointed to her bra, which startled a small laugh out of him. Because hell, yes, he’d like to see her without the bra—up close—but he knew he couldn’t let that happen. Not if he wanted to keep his job. Not if he wanted to have the kind of life his brothers had.

Not if he wanted to work things out with Izzie.

“No. I mean that.” He nodded toward the mask.

“I don’t think so.”

“You really take this anonymity seriously?”

“More than you know.”

She moved closer and Nick honestly didn’t know which pleased him more—feeling her warmth as she approached, or seeing her both in the flesh and reflected in the mirror. The woman’s panties were not only tiny, they were thong-style and he could see the succulent curves of her ass in the mirror. His hands clenched with the need to fill them with those curves.

She reached for his left hand and lifted it. “No ring.”

He shook his head.

“So there’s no one...special?”

He hesitated a second before answering. A week ago the answer would have been an unequivocal no. Right now he wasn’t so sure. He hedged. “That one’s in the air right now.”

Her bottom lip edged out in a tiny pout, glistening and wet against the red velvet cupping her mouth.

He wanted to bite it. Suck it into his mouth and lick the plumpness of it, then pull her down on his lap and explore all those curves and soft angles of her body.

“I’m unattached, too,” she murmured, licking her lips as if she’d read his thoughts. “And frankly, in my line of work, I don’t have much use for dating and get-to-know-you chats.”

He suspected he knew where she was going. With some other woman—just about any other woman—he’d watch for signals, wonder if she was trying to pick him up. With this one, he knew she’d be very frank about what she wanted.

Her hand came up, she trailed the tips of her fingers across his shoulder, her nails scraping the cotton of his shirt. He felt the touch everywhere. Her scent overwhelmed him. Her heat screamed to him in pure sexual invitation.

She made it even more clear. “I want to have sex with you.”

His heart skipped a beat. His pants shrunk across his groin and if the woman looked down, she’d know he could quite easily accommodate her. Several times, if she’d let him.

Before he could say a word, she quickly continued, “Despite what you might think since we just met, I’m not making this suggestion lightly. As Harry could confirm...I’m not in the habit of letting men in my dressing room. You are, in fact, the first one I’ve been alone with since I started working here.”

Interesting. She sounded as if she was worried he’d question her morals or think she was trashy. He’d known trashy women. But in his experience, they were women with low self-confidence and lower self-esteem who grasped at sex with anyone in an effort to feed their egos and fill their empty hearts.

He could already tell Rose wasn’t like that. She was incredibly self-confident. She could lift a finger and have any man upstairs ready to give her anything she wanted...and she knew it. She didn’t need physical devotion to feed her self-esteem. In fact, he suspected it was her unshakeable self-esteem that enabled her to take off her clothes in front of a room full of men and yet remain so completely out of reach of all of them.

She could strip for them, entice them, seduce them...but never lower herself to a level that said she’d ever give them what they wanted.

But now, that’s exactly what she was doing. Offering herself...to him. “I’m flattered,” he said, his tone husky.

She reached for him, scraping the tips of her fingers along the waistband of his pants, tugging a little at his shirt.

“But it’s not going to happen.”

Her hand stilled. “You said you weren’t attached.”

“That’s not the only issue.”

“You’re attracted to me.”

He couldn’t deny something so obvious. “We work together.”

Shrugging in unconcern, she stepped closer, sliding one bare foot between his so that her leg scraped against his thigh. “Working together is what makes it so very...convenient.”

She tilted her head, glancing toward the sturdy-looking vanity, and Nick knew she was picturing a very similar scenario to the one that had filled his mind earlier.

It would be shockingly easy to lift her onto that surface, step between her legs and drive into her body. Or to turn her around, lay her over it and come into her from behind. Their eyes would meet in the mirror...but he wouldn’t see the passion in their depths. He could barely make out their color behind the fabric of her mask. And he knew one thing for sure—he would never make love to the woman as long as she wore the thing.

“I’m sorry, Rose. You’re very attractive and sexy, but you’re just not who I’m looking for right now,” he said. “I’ve done the one-night-stand thing and I’ve had enough of it.”

“Who said anything about one night?” Her words were flippant. Her husky tone was not.

The idea of having more than one night appealed to him. But it didn’t change the basics: she was not the kind of woman he needed to get involved with right now. Not even on a purely sexual basis. “I’m sure there are a hundred guys upstairs who’d take you up on this in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t want any of them,” she murmured. “I want you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to want to have sex with you.”

“I’m not wired that way.”

She made a sound of disbelief. “You’ve never had raw, wild, uninhibited sex with someone just for the sake of feeling good?”

“Just to get off, yeah,” he muttered, making no effort to be delicate. “But only because time and expediency demanded it. I don’t operate that way anymore.”

“I could make it so good for you.” She lifted his hand again, this time putting it on her bare hip.

Nick couldn’t help squeezing it. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Let me,” she ordered. “Let’s see how good it can be.”

His jaw stiff, he pulled his hand away. “I know how good it could be. I don’t doubt we could screw ourselves senseless and make each other come a dozen times in an hour.”

Her eyes closed behind the mask. He could see her pulse fluttering in her neck. Still talking in that throaty, sultry whisper, she asked, “And what would be so bad about that?”

Nothing would be so bad about that. In fact, it would be incredible. But he’d feel like shit afterward. He knew it as sure as he knew his brother Mark was never going to let him forget he’d been born twelve minutes before Nick had.

Some things were inarguable.

Like the fact that he couldn’t have sex with this woman tonight and still look Izzie—the woman he sensed could be right for him for all the right reasons—in the eye tomorrow. So glancing at his watch, he found some nugget of resolve and said, “Harry’s waiting for me upstairs. I’ll see you later.”

Without giving her a chance to try to stop him, he turned around and walked out of her dressing room. Judging by the way something went flying in that tiny room once the door was closed behind him, he knew he’d left a very angry woman in his wake.

* * *

“SO HOW YOU DOIN’, little brother?” Nick heard a woman’s voice ask as he sat in a booth at Santori’s the next day. It was early Sunday afternoon and the church crowd hadn’t yet shown up for their traditional Sunday big midday meal, so he’d taken advantage of the lull to grab some lunch. Glancing up, he saw his sister-in-law, Gloria, Izzie’s older sister.

They didn’t look much alike. Gloria was pretty—especially for a thirtysomething mother of three—but she didn’t have Izzie’s flamboyant looks. Her face was sweet, not dramatic. Her mouth soft, not sensual. She didn’t have Izzie’s amazing figure. Nor had she inherited her sister’s desire to escape from here.

Gloria personified the world in which he’d grown up. She’d worked in her parents’ business, gone to high school right here in the neighborhood. Married an Italian boy up the block. Gone to work in his family’s business. And proceeded to produce lots of little Italian babies who looked just like her husband.

Though they were both hardheaded and volatile, and had been known to shout the street down when they got going, Tony and Gloria were absolutely crazy about each other. They had the kind of marriage anyone would want to have. The kind he would be lucky to have...once he figured out if he really wanted it.

Not knowing what he wanted was proving to be a real pain in the ass. Made more painful by the very sexy distraction called the Crimson Rose. He’d been able to avoid her for the rest of last night while working at the club, but every time their eyes met, she reminded him that she knew he was attracted to her.

“Nick?” Gloria prompted. “Everything okay?”

“I’m good, where are the boys?” he asked, looking past her for his two older nephews, or the carriage holding the baby one.

“I came in through the back...Tony Jr. and Mikey are in the kitchen with their father.” She raised her voice, never shifting her eyes toward the swinging door leading into the kitchen. “Who had better not be giving them candy outta Pop’s candy jar if he wants to live another day.”

From the back room came the sound of Tony’s deep laughter. Nick would lay money the boys were already high on Pop’s secret stash of gummy bears. “What about the baby?”

Gloria frowned, glancing toward the door of the restaurant. “He should be here any second. It’s hard enough bringing the boys to mass without Tony there to help me. No way could I handle three of them. So he stayed with Auntie Izzie.” Smiling in relief, Gloria nodded. “Here they are now.”

Something about seeing Izzie pushing a baby carriage into the restaurant made Nick’s stomach twist. Not because she looked like an absolute natural doing it...but because she looked miserable. Uncomfortable as hell.

He had to laugh. The woman was so unlike anyone else around here. Maybe that was why he couldn’t get her off his mind.

“Hey, Iz, how’d you do with my little prince?”

“He puked in my hair. Twice.”

Gloria swooped in and lifted the three-month-old out of the stroller, cuddling him close. “Aww, what’d you do to him?”

“I told him if he puked on me again I’d take him to the zoo and drop him in the bear cage,” Izzie muttered. “What do you think I did to him?”

Gloria patted the baby on his back. “It’s okay, Auntie Izzie’s just grumpy because she doesn’t have a sweet man to cuddle up with...much less four like Mommy’s got.”

Nick almost choked on his water at that one. If Gloria had been facing her sister, she would have seen the death ray that had come from Izzie’s eyes. Apparently she heard him...because suddenly that death ray was sent in his direction.

Nick held up his hands, palms out, in a universal peace gesture. “I’m with you. Don’t drop me in a bear cage.”

Her glare faded and she half smiled. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Careful, Nick,” Gloria cautioned, still focused on the baby, “our Izzie’s not quite the sweet young thing you remember. You don’t want to tangle with her.”

Oh, yeah, he did want to tangle with her. Tangle his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth and his arms around her body and his legs between her thighs. Mostly he wanted to tangle in her life...and tangle her in his. At least enough so she’d give him a chance to win back some of that interest she’d once felt toward him.

Before Izzie could say anything, the door opened and more family members poured in. His parents and his brother Joe—with wife and baby in tow—led the way. Folks from the neighborhood followed. Next came lots of cousins and aunts and uncles, all of whom came to the restaurant every Sunday for a big family meal.

Izzie’s whole body went tense. He could see it from five feet away. She didn’t want to be part of this—didn’t feel a part of this. And Nick, more than anyone else in the room, understood. So without saying a word, he got up, took her hand and tugged her toward his table.

She resisted. “What...”

“Come on, it’ll be okay,” he whispered as he pulled her down to sit beside him. “I’ll tell you who I recognize, you tell me who you recognize and we’ll get through this together.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling. Looking for a moment like a trapped deer, she seemed on the verge of fleeing. She appeared unable to deal with something as innocuous—yet painful—as a neighborhood gathering.

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “You can do it.”

It took a few more seconds, but that panicked look slowly began to fade from her eyes. As family friends and neighbors greeted her, he felt her begin to relax beside him. She even chatted a little, smiling at people she hadn’t seen in years.

Everything went fine. Right up until the minute some old lady from the block clapped her hands together, then pinched Izzie’s cheek. “Oh, you’re a beautiful couple!” she exclaimed. “At last you’ve got your man, Isabella Natale. All those years and you’ve finally landed him!”

Everyone fell silent, immediately turning in their direction. Especially Gloria. And Nick’s parents.

“Shit,” Izzie mumbled under her breath. Her face turned as red as a glass of the chianti Pop loved so much.

Nick put a hand on her leg under the table. But she pushed it off. And with a quick goodbye to her sister and the family—and a glare at Nick—she strode across the restaurant and stalked out the front door, not looking back. Not even once.

* * *

OVER THE NEXT couple of days, Izzie gradually began to lose her mind. Began? Heck, she’d been losing her mind since the night she’d toppled onto a table full of cookies and Nick Santori had landed on top of her. The man had been consuming her for years. This week, however, he was on track to win the gold medal in the Let’s Drive Izzie Crazy games.

After her failed seduction attempt at Leather and Lace, he’d avoided her as much as he could when on the job. They hadn’t been alone at all the rest of Saturday night, or when they’d both worked again Sunday. Just as well. She was still ticked about what had happened at the restaurant that afternoon.

He did take his job seriously, making sure she went nowhere alone. But he hadn’t been alone with her for one minute. It was as if he feared “Rose” would make another move on him the first chance she got, and was making sure she didn’t get the chance.

Grr...men. So untrusting.

But if Nick was frustrating her with his aloofness at the club by night, he was absolutely killing her by day. He’d come by several times in the past few days, popping into the bakery for a muffin and a coffee. Every time he was all cute and sweet and sexy. So different from the dark, brooding guy at the club that she’d have thought they were two different people.

She honestly didn’t know which man appealed to her more. Probably whichever one she happened to be with at the time. Funny...he knew her as two different women. And while his name was Nick either way, she knew him as two different men, too.

Both of them were messing with her head. She’d been making all kinds of stupid mistakes at the bakery today—like using peppermint extract instead of almond in a batch of cookies.

Giving up in the kitchen since she had several hours before the restaurant orders had to be delivered, she decided to do some paperwork before closing. It was well after lunch, she was working alone but could hear the bell if anyone came in.

But even that didn’t go well. She’d added up a column on a deposit slip four times and still hadn’t gotten it right. She was tempted to call Bridget to ask her cousin to straighten out her books. But judging by the conversation they’d had earlier in the day, Bridget had finally worked up the nerve to ask her shaggy-haired used-car salesman out. And Izzie didn’t want to do anything to distract her.

Izzie just wished she had a distraction. Because she couldn’t get Nick out of her head. He’d invaded her life. No, both her lives. When he stared at her across the club and devoured her with his eyes at night while physically spurning her, she felt ready to howl in fury.

Showing up here by day—the handsome guy next door who wanted to lick the cream out of her cannoli—and her having to refuse him? It was pure hell.

She wanted Nick the bodyguard at night. Not Nick the sexy guy up the block by day.

She wanted sex. Not romance.

Wanted temporary. Not ever after.

Wanted to do him. Not date him.

It was simply a matter of wills to determine which of them got what they wanted first. God, she hoped it was her.

“Izzie?”

Startled, Izzie yelped and spun toward the front of the shop, seeing a customer at the counter. So much for thinking she’d hear the bell—she’d been deafened by her own thoughts.

Recognizing the woman, a weary smile curled her lips. Lilith was a regular, who could supposedly read the future. A bit out there, but a good customer, and a nice one. “I’m sorry.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “My head was in the clouds.”

“If the clouds all smell like this bakery, that’s not a bad place to be.”

Maybe for the customers. But after practically living in this place for two months, Izzie was over the nauseatingly sweet smells that invaded her nostrils from morning till night. “Believe me, it’s not so great going home from work with hair scented like anisette and clothes that reek of ginger.”

“On the positive side, they say the scent of licorice is great for dieters because it controls your appetite.”

Didn’t seem to her that the sexy, short-haired brunette had anything to worry about in that regard. Frankly, neither did Izzie. She’d long since lost her taste for sweets...no more cookie-induced panty girdles for her. “Twizzlers can keep it. I try to ignore the smells unless someone burns something.”

“Oh, come on, no one at Natale’s ever burns anything.”

Quickly washing her hands, Izzie had barely dried them before Lilith pointed with impatience at the lone cannoli remaining in the front display case.

When Lilith told her she’d be eating in, rather than taking the cannoli to go, Izzie asked, “Got a reading?”

While she didn’t entirely believe in that stuff, Izzie knew a lot of regulars swore by Lilith’s spiritual readings. Though she’d never considered it before, Izzie half wondered if the other woman could help her figure out the quagmire that was her life. Especially the Nick part of that quagmire.

“Nah, I’m taking a break from the medium world right now.”

“Just my luck. For the first time in my life I think I’d actually pay to have someone tell me who the heck I’m going to be next week.”

Izzie the baker? Izzie the stripper? Izzie the New Yorker? Izzie the Chicagoan? Izzie the horny?

That was the one she really wanted an answer to. Was she ever going to get laid again, and oh, please, please, please, would it actually be Nick Santori who did the laying?

She didn’t ask Lilith any of those things, though the medium promised she’d try to help her as soon as she was “back in business”—whatever that meant. But that might be too late. She might already have done something stupid—like having sex with Nick the bouncer as the Crimson Rose. Which would be fabulous but would make him hate her if he found out the truth.

Or something more stupid, like going out on a date with Nick, the guy up the block, which would have her parents planning their wedding. Then she’d hate herself.

Ordering a cappuccino to go with her treat, the mysterious brunette made herself at home at a front table, firing up a laptop. After making the frothy cappuccino, Izzie carried it over. “Doing some surfing?”

“I’m going to try. The most I’ve ever used the web for is updating my website and answering email.”

“Don’t forget shopping. Or maybe you’re going to start haunting chat rooms?”

“No, I’m doing research.”

Leaving the woman to it, Izzie went back to work. Concentrating on cleaning out the display cabinet, she was surprised to hear the bell jangle as another late-day customer came in. This one she didn’t recognize—and she definitely would have, if she’d seen her before. The leggy brunette was dressed entirely in sleek, black leather and she looked like a predatory cat. The sexy little motorcycle parked outside the door suggested the woman was a risk taker and a rule breaker.

Izzie liked her on sight.

“Hey, Izzie,” Lilith called, “what do you know about computers?”

Offering the new customer a quick smile, she answered, “Well, I don’t know how to find any naked pictures of Heath Ledger, and I haven’t figured out how to send a death ray to spammers, but I do the website for the bakery.” It was a basic one, but Izzie was pretty proud of it.

“I hear ya. So you know how to enlarge pictures? Other than ones of naked movie stars?”

Izzie grinned. “Yeah, give me a sec.” She looked at the newcomer. “What can I get you?”

“Espresso and a cannoli.”

“Sorry, Lilith took the last.”

Settling for just the espresso, the woman paid her and waited for her drink. After making it, Izzie went over to Lilith to see what help she could offer.

It wasn’t much. It turned out the medium needed to enlarge a grainy newspaper picture in order to see a ring on some guy’s finger. And Izzie just didn’t have the know-how to do it.

The newcomer in black leather, however, did. Joining them, she asked a few questions, then bent over Lilith’s computer and went to work. Watching her type, her fingers flying on the keys, Izzie figured she was experienced at this. But when the woman acknowledged that she was hacking into the newspaper website to try to find the original photo, she suspected there was a lot more than simple ballsiness to the woman.

She was mysterious. Maybe even a little dangerous.

They both seemed that way, really. Lilith with her supposed psychic abilities. This woman with her risky, who-gives-a-damn attitude. So unlike little Izzie of the bakery.

Maybe, however, not too unlike the Crimson Rose. She wondered what these two would think if they knew she wasn’t quite the sweet, simple bakery worker she appeared to be.

“Who is this guy, anyway?” the stranger asked. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to figure out if that ring is a wedding band and he’s the a*shole you’ve been dating for the past three months.”

“Ew.”

“So he’s not your lover.”

“Say that again and I’ll dump the dregs on you. He’s a jerk I’m investigating.”

“A jerk?” The stranger snorted. “What makes him different from every other man on this planet?”

“Good question,” Izzie muttered, though her heart wasn’t really in it. Nick had always been one incredibly good guy. The fact that he wouldn’t have sex with her as a stripper didn’t mean he was a jerk.

Even though he was.

She wandered away from the other two, cleaning off the empty tables in preparation for closing. As she worked, she kept up with the other women’s conversation, trying to stay out of it, but unable to when she heard who Lilith was currently dating. Hearing that the sexy medium had hooked up with Mac Mancuso, a nice boy-next-door type turned Chicago cop, she had to put her two cents in. Mainly because their situations—whether Lilith would believe it or not—were very similar.

“Mac’s not a jerk. He grew up just a few blocks from here. Our families know each other. I’d think any woman would love to catch a good, honest cop like him.”

The stranger in black immediately stopped typing. “You’re sleeping with a cop.” Somehow, Izzie suspected the woman was allergic to anyone official—especially the police.

“I’m sleeping with him, not married to him,” Lilith insisted. “Trust me when I say that my definition of right and wrong varies from his by huge degrees.”

Huh. Sounding more and more like Izzie’s situation. She almost wished she and Lilith were alone so they could talk.

“Keep working and your next ten espressos are on me,” Lilith told the other woman.

“I won’t be around that long, but thanks for the offer.”

“Add her to my tab,” Lilith told Izzie. “Any time she stops in, coffee’s on me.” Glancing at the stranger, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Seline.”

Amused since Lilith’s tab currently took up two pages in her accounts book, Izzie asked, “Does that mean you’re actually going to pay it someday?”

Lilith shrugged in unconcern, watching as Seline kept working. When she finally struck pay dirt and got Lilith the information she wanted, they both seemed triumphant.

Izzie only wished her problems with Nick could be solved with an internet search. Unfortunately, if she searched for the stuff she wanted to do with Nick Santori on the internet, she’d probably get inundated with spam from sites like bigpenises.com from now till eternity.

Finishing up her cappuccino and shutting down her computer, Lilith thanked Seline for helping her out, then turned to Izzie. “Thanks for the sugar boost and the wi-fi.”

“Anytime.” Unable to help it, Izzie called out, “Lilith, don’t be so quick to write off a great guy like Mac. Maybe you and he can find a way to make it work, even if you think there’s no way it ever could.”

And maybe she was a sucker who should still be reading fairy tales. But hey, it didn’t hurt to dream, did it? Even if she was dreaming on behalf of someone else.

Once Lilith was gone, the other woman, Seline, approached the counter. Even her walk was feline—sultry—and Izzie wondered if she’d ever danced before.

“Here,” Seline said. She put a one-hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “For her tab. I sense that she needs the money more than I do. And I don’t have to be psychic to figure that out.”

Stunned, Izzie murmured, “Thanks.” She opened her mouth to say more—to offer the money back—but the mysterious woman in black had already turned toward the door, her coffee in hand. She walked out into the bright sunshine without another word, got onto her sleek motorcycle and roared away down the street.

* * *

BRIDGET DONAHUE HAD always known she would never be wildly sexy and self-confident like her cousin Izzie. But there were times when she allowed herself to think that, maybe, since they were related, Bridget had a tiny bit of Izzie-power trapped deep inside her. So ever since she was a kid, she’d played a game. WWID, aka What Would Izzie Do? And then she’d try to do that.

Asking Dean Willis to go out with her one day at lunchtime had definitely been a WWID moment. And Bridget still couldn’t believe she’d gone through with it. But if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t now be sitting at a coffee shop, looking across the table at his handsome face. Make that staring at his face.

Staring. Izzie wouldn’t stare. Bridget ducked her head down, focused on her cup of Earl Grey tea. Not the double-shot espresso she probably needed—because of her “I don’t drink coffee” fib—but okay...mainly because of the company.

“You ready for a refill?” Dean asked.

Bridget shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

They weren’t at her uncle’s bakery, but at a big chain place not far from her apartment. Bridget had chosen the spot, which seemed safe, neutral and impersonal. Not the kind of place that said she thought they were on a date. Not the kind of place where a date would be absolutely out of the question.

God, she sucked at this. Izzie would have met him at a hotel bar.

Small steps, she reminded herself. Asking a man out was a first for her. It wasn’t that she’d never dated—or that she was completely inexperienced. But if Izzie was on the top rung when it came to dealing with men, Bridget was still pulling the ladder out of the cellar.

They sat in an alcove by the front window. Bridget had her chair pushed back from the table, to accommodate the length of his legs beneath it. He looked crowded—bunched up in the small chair and the small corner—but he hadn’t complained.

“You must be tired of hearing me rattle on about my landlord problems,” she said as the conversation lagged. “I haven’t seemed to shut up.”

He shook his head. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“You haven’t been doing much talking...just listening.”

“You’re easy to listen to,” he replied with a small smile.

Nice answer. And it was mutual, because he was also very easy—easy to like. But she still didn’t feel like she knew anything about him. “So how do you like working for Marty? You’ve sold more cars in the month you’ve been there than any other salesman has sold in the past three.”

He shrugged. “It’s not hard when you have good products to sell.” Lowering his gaze, he reached for his cup. “I guess you’d know that since you’ve worked for Marty longer than I have.”

Sighing, Bridget shook her head. “Not much longer.”

“Really?”

“I started just a couple of months before you did so I don’t know much of anything, either.”

He frowned. “But you keep the books, surely you know how things are going. I bet the place is raking in the bucks, huh?”

Grunting in annoyance, she admitted, “I have no idea. I see just enough to keep the books balanced and not much else.”

Dean stopped stirring his tea and lifted his eyes to hers. Leaning forward over the table, he asked, “You don’t know anything about what’s going on at Honest Marty’s Used Cars?”

“I know Marty’s a bit of a con artist,” she said tartly. “Honesty is just one of his...embellishments.”

She suspected her boss also embellished some other things—like stuff he told the IRS. But she didn’t have proof and was not about to say such a thing to anyone else.

He persisted. “But you must make the deposits, pay the invoices, keep an eye on the accounts receivable.”

“I take what he gives me and do what I can.” Shrugging, she added, “Honestly, I don’t know much of anything about the business, it’s all I can do to keep the checkbook balanced.”

He held her stare, his blue eyes looking searchingly into her face, as if he was trying to find the answer to some question. She couldn’t imagine what. She had no idea why he was so interested in the financial dealings of their employer.

Then she thought of something. It could be a matter of job security. Dean was personable and a good salesman, but he didn’t exactly dress like someone who had a lot of money. The sports coats he wore to work usually didn’t fit well across his broad shoulders, and his pants were sometimes a little shabby.

Dean hadn’t said a lot about what he’d done before coming to Honest Marty’s. For all she knew, he’d been put out of work by poor management at his last job. That would certainly be enough to make anybody ask questions, especially somebody who lived paycheck to paycheck, as she suspected he did.

Not wanting to embarrass him, she carefully tried to set his mind at ease. “Look, I don’t know specifics, but I know the dealership’s doing well. I see the number of cars coming onto the lot and the number leaving it. You don’t have to worry.”

He frowned, as if not understanding what she meant. Some impulse made Bridget reach across the table and put her hand on his. She almost pulled her hand back right away, surprised to feel a warm tingle where skin met skin. But, swallowing for courage, she left it there. Like Izzie would.

If this was a date, he’d interpret her touch as a signal that she wanted more. If it was not a date, he’d interpret it as concerned friendship. Bridget considered it a little of both. “Your job is secure.”

He was staring at their hands, still touching. “My job?”

He sounded—distracted. As if he was as affected by their touch as she was, which gave her a little thrill. “Marty would be a fool to let you go. You’re the best salesman he’s got.”

He said nothing at first, he just slowly twined his fingers in hers, rubbing at the fleshy pad of her palm with the tip of his thumb. Her pulse raced and she wondered if he could feel it throbbing right there below her skin.

She somehow managed to concentrate on getting a positive message across, ignoring the tingling in her fingers and the flip-flopping of her heart. “It’s okay, I know what it’s like to worry about making ends meet, but please don’t worry about the company. I’m sure you’re not going to lose your job.”

He looked up at her, his jaw dropping. “Lose my...”

“I thought that’s why you were curious.”

Dean’s mouth snapped and he mumbled, “It’s okay.” He pulled the hand she’d been touching away and dropped it onto his lap. “Well, they probably want this table for other customers. I guess we should go.”

Oh, God, she felt like a fool. She’d ruined this, he probably thought she had been pitying him or something. “Dean, I really didn’t mean anything...”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I just wasn’t sure what you meant at first. It’s good to know the company’s doing so well,” he said, still sounding distracted. “Thanks again for meeting me. I’m glad we got the chance to get to know each other better, since we’ll be working together.”

Bridget managed to suck her trembling lip into her mouth, recognizing a brush-off when she heard one. Either he’d never intended this as a get-to-know-you date at all, or he had and she’d blown it. But whatever the case, it was finished now. He was not interested in seeing her again.

WWID...Izzie wouldn’t cry. So she blinked. Hard.

“Bye, Bridget,” he said as he escorted her outside.

She somehow managed to sound perfectly normal when she said goodbye, too. But deep inside, she felt anything but normal.

In fact, Bridget felt a little bit broken.