Waking Up to You Overexposed

9



“HOW ARE YOU FEELING, Rose? All better?” Holding the back door of Leather and Lace open for her early Saturday evening, Harry watched her closely, as if worried she wasn’t up to dancing tonight.

Izzie had to stop for a moment to wonder why. Then she remembered. Crap. She’d called in sick the previous Sunday night. Probably really leaving him in the lurch.

“I’m fine, Harry,” she said as she walked past him into the building, watching him shut and lock the door behind her. Security had improved around here ever since Nick had been hired. “I am so sorry about last Sunday night.”

Harry waved an unconcerned hand. “Hey, don’t worry about it, something wicked had to be going around for three of you to get knocked on your butts.”

“Three of us?”

Harry nodded. “Leah got sick Saturday night.”

“I remember.”

“She came back in Sunday evening, was here for two hours, got sick all over again and had to leave. So did Jackie.”

Jackie was Leah’s dressing roommate. Whatever was going around had obviously nailed both of them.

Izzie was about to open her mouth to confess that she really had not been sick—just cowardly. But before she could do it, the back door was unlocked from the outside and opened again. She knew before she even saw him that Nick had arrived.

She recognized his warm, masculine scent. And her nipples got hard. Oh, yeah, it was definitely Nick.

His gaze immediately went to her, hot and appreciative. She’d had to leave his bed early this morning to go to work at the bakery. But right before she’d gone, he’d whispered how much he looked forward to seeing her tonight in her dressing room...which now, he’d made sure last weekend, had a lock.

She’d shivered all day, thinking of that first night he’d been in there, when he’d seen her naked reflection. Mmm.

“Nick,” Harry said with a nod. He looked back and forth between the two of them. “No more mask, Rose?”

Smiling, she shook her head. “I’ve decided I trust him.”

Nick returned the smile, the two of them sharing a silent intimacy that excluded Harry, though he stood right beside them. Finally, though, Nick broke the stare and addressed their boss. “Everything looking okay so far?”

Harry nodded. “Been kind of a quiet week. Last night was the slowest Friday we’ve had in a while.” Glancing at Izzie, he added, “But I bet the crowd will be roaring back to see you.”

“Are you short-staffed again?” she asked, wondering if Harry would need her to dance an extra set.

He shook his head. “Everybody’s here, sound and healthy.”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked, a frown furrowing his brow.

Harry began to explain about the sick dancers, which made Izzie feel guilty again. Especially when he groaned over how hard it had been to tell Delilah, his “retired” wife, that she wasn’t in shape to go on in their place. Oy. She wouldn’t have wanted to see the redhead’s expression during that conversation.

Something else she didn’t want to do was have to look Nick in the eye and admit she’d called in sick rather than face him last weekend. She figured he knew that much, but didn’t particularly feel the need to confirm it.

Excusing herself, she headed to her dressing room. The door wasn’t locked, but she immediately noticed the deadbolt, which had not been there the previous weekend.

“You sneaky man,” she whispered with a smile as she dropped her purse and keys on the vanity. She could think of several wicked ways Nick could help her kill time between her numbers.

Of course, being the hard-ass guy he was when on the job, she suspected he might resist her. That was okay. Izzie had found she was pretty good at working around his resistance.

Having stood most of the day at work, she wanted to relax before going onstage. Kicking her shoes off her feet, she pulled her chair out from under the makeup vanity and sat down at it.

She immediately heard a cracking sound, but didn’t register what it was until the chair broke apart beneath her, sending her crashing to the floor. “Son of a bitch,” she snapped as she lay still on the tile. The back of her head had scraped the concrete block wall on the other side as she’d fallen. She rubbed at it, shocked to see a few flecks of fresh blood on her fingertips.

“Izzie? Are you all right? What was that noise?” Nick asked as he burst into the room.

He swung the door open so hard he almost hit her with it. An inch closer and she would have taken a flat piece of oak square in the face.

“Oh, my God.” He immediately dropped into a squat beside her. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s okay,” she insisted, slowly sitting up.

He put his hand under her arm to help her. “What happened?”

“My chair broke,” she admitted, almost embarrassed about it. She’d never fully gotten over that chubby-girl terror of breaking a chair in public.

“Is that blood on your fingers?” he asked, his voice so taut it almost snapped.

She lifted it to the back of her head again. “Yeah, I scraped my head on the wall when I fell.”

“You need to go to the hospital.” He rose and tugged her up, too. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

“No, Nick, I don’t. I didn’t bang my head, I promise. I just scratched it on the way down.”

He frowned, obviously not believing her.

“Check and see for yourself. I swear, it’s nothing but a scratch.” She turned around, tilting her head back so he could see the spot where the blood had come from.

Nick gently pushed her hair out of the way. Izzie watched him in the mirror, seeing the frantic expression on his handsome face. And the way his jaw clenched as he tenderly examined her.

He was worried about her. Truly afraid for her.

“See?” she asked softly.

“Looks like a scratch,” he admitted.

“Good.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re not hurt anywhere else. God, Izzie, what the hell happened?”

She gestured toward the remains of the chair, in pieces at her feet. “It fell apart as soon as I sat on it.” Glaring at him, she added, “No big butt jokes.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if.” Stepping away, he ran his hands up and down her arms. “You’re sure you’re not hurt anywhere else?”

She was hurt elsewhere. Her hip was killing her from where she’d banged on the floor. But thankfully, she hadn’t landed on her bum knee. “I’m okay.”

Nick shook his head, muttering something, then bent down to examine the pieces of the chair. It was a sturdy rolling one that easily slid around when Izzie needed to reach something on the vanity. But it had fallen apart into several pieces.

“This doesn’t make any damn sense.” His tone was curt, all business now. “How could it just fall apart like that?”

“I have no clue. Maybe it was just defective.”

Nick didn’t even look up. He was poking around in the pile, picking up a couple of screws and staring at them hard.

“Rose? Nick? Is everything okay? Somebody heard a crash.”

Glancing at the door, she saw Harry Black, and, right behind him, one of the bouncers. They both stared wide-eyed from her, down to Nick and the broken chair.

“Are you okay, honey?” Harry asked.

“Can I help you up?” the bouncer, Bernie, her self- appointed watchdog, asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little mishap.”

“She could have been badly hurt,” Nick barked.

“But I wasn’t,” she murmured, trying to calm all three down. If Nick was like a protective lion, Harry was like a fatherly teddy bear. And Bernie was like a big grizzly somebody had poked with a stick. They all looked equally upset.

“It’s okay, I swear. Just an accident. Now, if you don’t mind, Harry, could you find me another chair? I need to get ready to go on.” The older man nodded and backed out of the door, taking Bernie with him.

Glancing at Nick, she added, “You need to get to work, too, making sure everything is safe and secure for me to perform.”

He slowly rose, his eyes locked on hers. “Are you really worried about something, or are you trying to get rid of me?”

Izzie offered him a cocky grin, put her hand on his chest and pushed him toward the door. “I’m trying to get rid of you. I have to be onstage in an hour, and with you in here oozing all that hot man stuff, I’m going to be tempted to test that lock and seduce you.”

His eyes twinkled. But his frown remained. “You’re not going to seduce me into forgetting you could have been hurt.”

“And you’re not going to bully me into forgetting I have a job to do.”

He reached up and cupped her cheek. Izzie couldn’t help curling into his hand, loving the roughness of his skin against her own. “I would never bully you into doing anything, Izzie.”

They hadn’t yet talked about her job. They’d officially been secret lovers for two wild, passion-filled nights, and she hadn’t had a chance to even ask him if he was going to have some kind of macho problem with her dancing. Now he’d opened the door for the question.

“Are you going to be all right upstairs, watching me?”

He brushed his thumb over her jaw. “I love watching you.”

Nibbling on his finger, she murmured, “I meant, will you be okay watching everyone else watch me?”

His jaw stiffened and his dark eyes flashed. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he drew closer, tipping her head back so sweetly, so tenderly, she knew he was still worried she could be hurt. “Izzie, I can’t promise anything because I haven’t experienced it yet. But I can tell you this...I know and want the real you...both sides of you. The Rose and the woman you become when you walk out of this place every Sunday night. I’m in this with both of you.”

Without saying anything more, he bent down and covered her mouth with his, kissing her sweetly and tenderly. Then, with one more brush of his hand on her face, he turned and walked out.

* * *

AS IT TURNED OUT, Nick did not have to test himself to see how he’d handle watching Izzie strip for other men. Because before she ever went onstage, Nick was forced to deal with a couple of punks who didn’t understand the rules of a place as upscale as this one. One of them had made a move on a waitress, another had lunged at a dancer. Nick and Bernie plucked the guys up and dragged them out the front door, where, high on liquid courage, they’d both tried to put up a fight.

Maybe it was the residual anger he’d felt at seeing the blood on Izzie’s fingertips. Or maybe it was the rage that flooded his head at the thought that it could have been Izzie the prick had grabbed, but as soon as the guy threw the first punch, Nick reacted harshly.

He’d had a few fights in his day, both before his military days and during them. And it was painfully easy to take down a drunk. The fight was over almost immediately after it had begun. Bernie dispatched of the drunk’s friend just as quickly and the two of them nodded to each other in appreciation for the backup.

“Thanks, man,” Bernie said.

“Not a problem.”

Bernie shook the bleary patron. “I think this is the same prick who grabbed Rose a month ago.”

Nick’s jaw went rock hard. If the man hadn’t already been in Bernie’s firm grip, he might have found a reason to throw another punch. But he was a fair fighter and wouldn’t do something so out of bounds.

Unless the guy got free...then all was fair.

The guy didn’t get free, Bernie had a tight grip and had begun chewing him out for harassing Rose. That incident had obviously been a more serious one than Nick had been led to believe, because Bernie hadn’t forgotten a moment of it.

Because things had gotten physical, Nick decided to cover his own ass as well as the bouncer’s and the club’s, and called the police. He wanted this thing on record, now, when there were plenty of witnesses who’d seen both the assault on the female workers inside, and the provocation in the parking lot.

It was just his bad luck that Mark heard the call to Leather and Lace and decided to respond. Nick saw his brother get out of his unmarked car and saunter over, smiling widely. “Get in a fight without me?”

“Just doing my job,” Nick replied, trying to figure out a way to get Mark to leave without going inside the club. If he was on duty, it wouldn’t have been an issue—his brother was too good a cop to go inside a strip club while on duty. But he knew Mark’s hours. No way was he working this late on a Saturday. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I heard it on the scanner. Noelle was already in bed—that woman goes to sleep by eight every night now. So I thought I’d head on over and see if you were okay.”

“You know this guy?” one of the officers asked.

“My baby brother,” Mark replied, his dimples flashing.

“By ten minutes,” Nick said, shaking his head.

It took about an hour to clear up matters outside. Nick had stayed near the entrance, far from the stage, but he’d gotten reports from the bouncers about what was going on inside. So he knew when Izzie had performed...and when she was finished.

She’d done her first number and wouldn’t be back on for at least an hour or two. Long enough to get rid of his brother.

“Come on, let me buy you a beer,” Mark said once the last of the police cars pulled away.

“I’m working.”

“Okay, then you buy me a beer.” Not taking no for an answer, he threw his arm across Nick’s shoulder and tugged him into the club. “Come on, I’ve never been in this place.”

“Noelle probably wouldn’t like it.”

“I’m visiting my twin at work. No harm in that, is there?”

“Depends on whether you visited me blindfolded.”

“I’ll keep my back to the stage,” Mark said. “Seriously, we haven’t talked in weeks. I know something’s going on with you.”

His twin was right. They had been...disconnected. Not just because of what had been going on with Nick and Izzie, but also because his brother was about to become a father. Mark had changed. He had different priorities, talked a different language, looked at the world a different way.

Noelle and their baby were his family now. Oh, sure, he loved the rest of the Santoris, but he’d crossed that threshold from son and brother to husband and father.

Nick was the only one of the Santori siblings who had not.

“Let’s sit out here,” Mark said, nodding toward a couple of low, round tables in an outer chamber between the lobby and the main lounge area. They were out of view of the stage.

Nick wasn’t surprised. Mark was a good husband. Like the rest of their brothers.

“All right.” Gesturing to one of the waitresses, he ordered a club soda for himself and a beer for his brother. Returning to the table, he sat down across from his twin. “Can’t be away for too long, though.”

Mark settled back into the leather chair. “Nice.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Good fringe benefits?”

Holding back a smile, Nick just shook his head.

“Hey, I’m married, these days are long gone. Throw me a bone.”

“Throw me one,” Nick replied before thinking better of it. “Tell me what it’s like.”

Mark frowned, obviously confused by the question. “It?”

“Marriage. What’s it like being tied down, committed?”

Those deep dimples that had charmed girls from the time he was two years old flashed in Mark’s cheeks. “It’s the best. Noelle’s everything I ever wanted.”

“Yeah, but how’d you know what you wanted?” Nick muttered as he lifted his drink and downed half of it.

Chuckling, Mark admitted, “I didn’t. I think it was more of a case of meeting her, and knowing that whatever I eventually did figure out I wanted for my life, she’d be part of it. It was always her. Everything else fell into place around her.”

Somehow, that made a lot of sense to Nick. Because even though he’d been thinking of dozens of reasons why he and Izzie couldn’t make it work—the primary one being that she didn’t want it to—he couldn’t help hoping it would. Because, as Mark had said, he suspected she was the one. That whatever else happened in his life, whatever direction he went in, whatever he chose, he’d want her to be a part of it.

Surprisingly, his brother didn’t press him about why he was asking so many questions. Probably not because he didn’t care—or didn’t suspect there was a reason behind them. But because he knew Nick well enough to know that pushing for answers usually only made him clam up tighter.

Nick appreciated the courtesy. And realized yet again just how much he’d missed his twin.

“Hey, Nick, we got a live one at the bar,” a woman said.

Glancing over, Nick saw one of the waitresses, who was rolling her eyes. “Serious?”

“Not yet. But he could be if he’s not handled right.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Addressing his brother, he added, “Is there a full moon out tonight? The crazies are out.”

Mark stood. “Yeah, including me. I must be crazy to be out here with you instead of home in bed with my wife.”

Feeling better than he had in the hours since Izzie’s accident with the chair, Nick reached out and grabbed his brother for a quick hug. Mark’s eyes widened. He was the demonstrative one, not Nick. “What’s that for?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. Give it to your wife.”

“I’ve got plenty of my own to give,” Mark said with a grin. “But thanks just the same.”

The rest of the evening went by quickly, with more of the same insanity to deal with. Nick hadn’t been kidding—the crazies were out tonight, and a lot of them had decided to show up at the club. The bouncers had had to forcibly eject more guys in this one evening than he’d seen them eject in the past month.

The only positive thing about keeping so busy was that Nick missed the Crimson Rose’s final performance of the evening, too. He hadn’t even realized she was on until he heard the thunderous applause, whoops and whistles of her audience. But at that point, he’d been outside, doing a sweep of the parking lot to make sure none of their uninvited patrons had decided to come back.

Fortunately, they hadn’t. But there were still other issues to deal with, like his conversation with Harry about Izzie’s broken chair. She had called it an accident...and it might have been one. But he wasn’t taking any chances. He and Harry had talked about adding security cameras to the basement area of the club, to hook into the system already covering the upstairs. Izzie’s accident had confirmed the idea for both of them.

Just in case.

Saying goodbye to Harry, he headed downstairs, glancing at his watch. It was after two, the club was closed, everyone drifting out. But he knew she’d have waited. She wouldn’t have left without seeing him. Partly because she’d want to see his reaction to her act. Partly because she knew he’d kill her if she’d walked out to her car alone.

“Iz?” he asked, knocking lightly on her dressing-room door.

She opened it immediately. “Hi.” She was nibbling on her bottom lip and her hands were clenched in front of her. Rather than being dressed to go home, she wore just a slinky robe. Thankfully, though, the mask and hairpieces were gone.

“You doing okay?”

She nodded, then looked at him through half-lowered eyelids. “Um, so? What’d you think?”

He reached for her and drew her into his arms. “I didn’t see you dance.”

“What?”

“Sorry, other stuff was going on.”

“I heard there were some problems.”

“Yep.”

She fisted her hands and put them on her hips. The pose did really nice things, like pulling her short pink robe apart at the neck to reveal the lush upper curves of her breasts.

“You’re telling me you just happened to have to deal with various crises during the exact times I was onstage? And that was simply coincidence?”

She might not believe it, but it was true. At least, he thought it was. He guessed he could have done the parking-lot sweep a few minutes earlier or later. He hadn’t evaluated his decision before. But now, looking back...well, maybe something inside him had made sure he didn’t have to see other men looking at the beautiful body of the woman he considered his.

“You’re sure you’re going to be all right with this?” Her chin went up. “I won’t be able to handle it if you go all Cro-Magnon man and try to drag me by the hair back to your cave.”

“You woman. Me man,” he said, slipping his hands down and parting her robe farther. He nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her essence, realizing twenty-four hours had been far too long to go without making love to her. “Me got heap big appetite.”

She swatted at his shoulder. But she didn’t back up. “You’re such a dork.”

Nick had never been called that, or anything like it, in his entire life. Ass maybe. Jerk. Cold-hearted pig, on one occasion. But never a dork. And it surprised a laugh out of him.

She delighted him. Simply brought every good feeling that existed inside him out into the open.

“God, I love being with you,” he muttered, unable to help revealing a little bit of what he was feeling.

“I know, I feel the same way.”

She didn’t admit that easily, the words had come haltingly out of her mouth. Which made Nick value them that much more.

He moved his mouth down, sampling her collarbone.

“Did you put that lock on my door yourself?” she whispered as she tilted her head farther, silently begging for more.

He nodded, continued to kiss and lick, lower now, to the curves of her breasts, beautifully bare under the robe.

“Let’s use it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he murmured.

He didn’t let her go, he simply reached back and flipped the lock, then dipped down lower to lick his way down her to her pert nipple. Flicking it with his tongue, he waited until she was quivering to cover it with his mouth and suckle her.

“Mmm...more.”

Nick stroked her sides, his thumbs meeting near her belly button and scraping lower to tease the top edge of her pretty pink panties. With one last sweet suck on her breast he moved down her, following the path his hands had taken.

Izzie moaned softly, swaying on her feet. Nick kept her steady as he kissed his way down the front of her body. The soft robe brushed his face. So did her soft skin.

“Do you know what I wanted to do to you the first time I came into this room?”

She tangled her hands in his hair as he dropped lower, kneeling on the floor in front of her. “I think I have an idea.”

He pressed his face in her belly, licking at that tender bit of skin right above her pelvic bone, slowly pushing her panties down as he dipped lower.

“Did it involve that nice big flat surface in front of the mirror?” she asked.

Smart girl. “Uh-huh.” Gently holding her hips, he flicked at the panties, watching appreciatively as she shimmied out of them. The robe fell, too. Under the bright lightbulbs ringing the mirror, he was able to see every glorious inch of her. But he wanted to see more—didn’t want his view blocked even by her pretty brown curls. So he turned her and edged her back until her bottom brushed the edge of the vanity top.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly remembering her accident. Wrapping his hand around the edge of the vanity counter, he tugged at it sharply, testing the shelf’s sturdiness. It remained firmly in place, well secured into the wall.

“Good,” she murmured. Rising on her tiptoes, she slid onto the vanity, parting her legs just the way he wanted her to.

Someone had brought her another chair, and Nick grabbed it, sitting on it directly in front of her. Reaching for her knees, he slowly pushed them apart, watching a pink flush rise through her entire body.

She made no effort to resist. Confident. Sensual. Incredibly seductive. She knew what he wanted and she wanted it, too.

He pushed her legs farther, until he could see the glisten of moisture on the sensitive slit between her legs. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he asked.

It was a rhetorical question. She couldn’t possibly know how beautiful she looked to him, wanton and aroused, opening herself up so he could pleasure them both.

He couldn’t wait any longer. With a low groan of need, Nick dropped his face to that sweet, warm spot. He lapped at her in one slow, long lick, feeling her thighs quiver beside his face.

Izzie tilted up for him, inviting him farther, and he sampled her again. “You taste just as good without the cannoli, Cookie,” he mumbled.

She managed a choppy laugh. “Don’t call me Cookie.”

“Can’t help it.” He nibbled his way up to catch her erect * between his lips. He played with it even as he scraped his fingers across her swollen sex. She was drenched and ready to take whatever he wanted to give her. Wanting that warm, wet flesh wrapped around part of him while he continued to savor her with his mouth, he slipped a finger inside her.

“Mmm,” she groaned. “More. More of everything.”

He complied. Licking harder and sucking deeper, he slid another finger into her, then slowly moved them in and out, timing his strokes to her helpless moans.

With one more swirl of his tongue on her most sensitive spot, Izzie cried out and climaxed. He wanted to be part of that climax, to experience the spasms of her body as she clenched and shook. Standing, he tugged his shirt up and off, then unfastened his belt and pants and pushed them down, out of the way.

When he looked up again, Izzie had slid down to stand before him. He frowned. “I wasn’t nearly done.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Neither was I.” Then, with an Eve-like smile on her face, she turned around, facing away from him, until they were both looking in the mirror. She slowly bent forward, putting her hands flat on the vanity, curving that sweet ass back in pure, unspoken invitation.

His pulse roared. “You’re sure...”

“Oh, I’m very sure,” she promised him. She was still smiling, her eyes still glittered in avarice and hunger. “It’s your turn to take me, Nick.”

Remembering the way he’d begged her to take him the other night at his place, he nodded in lazy agreement. “Oh, honey, you can’t imagine how much I want to take you like this.”

Making love to her face-to-face—watching her incredible eyes widen with pleasure, and her sweet mouth fall open on every long sigh—was amazing. He knew he’d never tire of doing it.

But the idea of taking her like this—with raw, hot passion—excited him beyond reason. He’d be able to see her expressions in the mirror, be able to plunge deeper than ever before until he imprinted himself somewhere deep inside her. Deep enough that, perhaps, she might never want to let him go.

“Nick,” she begged, “please.” She arched again, those long dancer’s legs putting her curvy butt directly in line with his cock. She backed into him as he moved forward to her.

He held her full hips in both hands, bending a little so he could see her sweet entrance and ease his way into it. She hissed and arched, trying to take him deeper, but was powerless. His hands held her firmly, he was setting the pace.

And he planned to go slowly, wanting to savor every second of the experience.

“Give it to me,” she begged, watching him with desperation.

He smiled at her in the mirror and thrust forward a tiny bit. Rewarded by her gasp and the flare of her eyes, he pulled out again. This time, she didn’t beg for more, she simply licked her lips and watched, trusting him to make it good.

He didn’t make it good. He made it amazing. By the time he finally sank all the way into her tight heat, Izzie was whimpering. And by the time he began to lose his mind and thrust wildly, in and out, over and over, she was practically sobbing.

He thought they were alone in the building. But he couldn’t be sure. “Izzie...” he said, slowing to ease out of her, to calm them both a little “...wait.”

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping, sweetheart,” he said. Then he stopped. She whimpered, watching him, then realized he was turning her around. “I have to kiss you, Iz,” he murmured.

She twisted in his arms to face him, twining her arms around his neck and one leg around his waist. Plunging his tongue in her mouth, he tangled it with hers keeping his eyes open so he could stare into her beautiful face. Lifting her back up onto the vanity, he went right back into her, deep and fast, knowing this last stretch would be a quick, pulsing one.

“Sweet heaven, you amaze me,” she whispered against his mouth as he filled her again.

“Amazing. Yeah.”

Those were the only words he could manage. Wanting to be connected with her everywhere, he kissed her again, wrapped his arms tightly around her body and drew her up against him.

Stroking and thrusting, he rocked into her with every bit of himself, her cries of pleasure echoing sweetly in his ears. And when he finally heard those cries turned into desperate gasps as she climaxed, he let himself go, too, erupting inside her until he was completely empty.

* * *

“HEY, HOT STUFF, you’re looking delicious again today.”

Bridget jerked her head up, blinking the columns of numbers out of her brain as someone stepped into her office Sunday afternoon. She knew it wasn’t Dean...he didn’t speak to her like that, which was good. She wanted him to notice her, wanted him to realize she was interested in him. But she definitely didn’t want a man who’d speak to her so coarsely.

“Oh, hi,” she said, seeing one of the salesmen standing in the doorway. The guy, Ted, was a middle-aged divorcé with a phlegmy chuckle. He also had what she and her friends in middle school used to call Roman hands and Russian fingers.

He was grabby. Touchy. But he’d never gone too far beyond pats on her shoulder. She hoped that wasn’t about to change.

Ted wore his usual ugly striped sports coat over a dingy dress shirt and a red tie. In other words, he looked a mess. Usually, she saw him as a kind of sad guy whose wife had dumped him. He was smarmy and coarse, but had never given her any reason to be wary of him personally. Now, however, goose bumps prickled her body and tension throbbed in her temple.

She didn’t like the look in his eye.

“You dressing like that just for me, hot stuff?” he asked as he sauntered into the office.

“I think that question would be called sexual harassment,” she said as she stared hard at him, hoping he’d take the warning as a threat and get out now, before he’d gone too far.

When he smiled and pushed the door shut behind him, she had a sinking feeling he’d already gone too far.

Damn. She should have left an hour ago. It was four o’clock, an hour after the dealership closed on Sundays. And she had to assume everyone else had gone home. Ted hadn’t been around since this morning. Judging by the whiff of alcohol she caught wafting off him, she figured he’d gone for a long lunch at a local bar.

Dean, why didn’t you show up? She’d thought for sure he’d be here. He’d worked every weekend since he started. That was the only reason Bridget had come in herself today...to see him!

It had been for nothing. She’d worn another short, sexy skirt that she’d bought at a cute local clothing store last night. That, with the silky sleeveless shell that draped across her curves invitingly would have been enough to get the man’s temperature rising. And he hadn’t even been here to see it.

Instead, Ted was. Ick.

“Girl, you have been hiding your light under a bushel.” He stepped closer. “It’s closing time. Let’s go have some fun.”

“No, thank you,” she said, her tone icy. She stuffed her paperwork into a drawer. Normally, she’d be more tidy. Today, she was in a hurry. She wanted out of here.

“Aww, come on, sweetie, I know there’s no man in your life. You must be lonely. Why don’t you let me keep you company?”

She’d rather keep company with a dead skunk. “No, Ted.”

Hopefully that firm tone would get the message across and he’d get out of her way and let her leave. But as she stood, Ted stepped between her desk and the door, right in her path. “You know you really want to stay.”

“No. I really don’t.”

Trying once again to be like Izzie, she fisted one hand, retrieved her purse and tried to walk past him.

He grabbed her arm. “Not even a few minutes’ conversation?”

“Not even that,” she insisted, jerking her arm away.

Her angry tone and the heat in her eyes must have finally gotten through. Because Ted went from stupid drunk trying to score to angry drunk trying to control in one blink of her eyes. Without warning, he put both his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. Bridget stumbled over her own high-heeled sandals, landing on her butt on the edge of her desk.

“Perfect.” Dropping his hands onto her thighs, he crudely pushed her legs apart and forced his way between them.

“Let me go!”

“Not yet, hot stuff.”

She reached around on the desk behind her, hoping she’d left her scissors or stapler out, but all she managed to grab was a small desk clock. Wrapping her fingers tightly around it, she swung, but only managed a glancing blow to Ted’s shoulder.

His nostrils flared even as his eyes narrowed in anger. “Playing hard to get?”

“Let me go or I’ll scream.”

“Nobody to hear you, pretty thing,” he said, any hint of charm gone from his voice as his true nature emerged.

Before she could say a thing—or think what to say—Bridget heard something that sounded like an angel. But it was no angel.

It was Dean Willis. Roaring.

“Get the hell off her you son of a bitch.”

Suddenly he was. Ted was lifted off her and tossed to the side of the room. Bridget saw him land hard against the wall and crumple to the floor. He yelped in either fear or pain. Or both.

He had reason to be afraid. Dean was already reaching for him, his face red, his body emanating danger. “You’re dead.”

Ted’s bravado when facing her disappeared under this new threat. Before Dean could even grab him, he’d launched himself to his feet and run out the door, leaving the two of them alone. The whole thing—from Ted’s entrance to his speedy departure—had taken place in under three minutes.

Her head was spinning. Breathing hard and shaking a little, she mumbled, “Thank you so much.”

Dean swung around to look at her, that blood rage still evident on his face. His blue eyes were like matching chips of ice. He looked as much like a cute, nice-guy car salesman as she looked like Xena the Warrior Princess.

No. This was not gentle, good-natured Dean. This was a dangerous man in a high fury. And her shivers of fear turned to shivers of excitement.

“What the hell happened?”

Still sitting on the desk, she could only shake her head. “He obviously had been drinking. He came back and caught me alone. It’s the first time he’s ever...I mean, he’s a creep, but I never thought he’d...”

“Maybe if you’d wear clothes that didn’t scream ‘do me’ men wouldn’t try.”

Bridget’s jaw dropped and she stared at him in shock. “What did you say to me?”

“Look at you,” he snapped, stepping closer. He pointed to her legs, still splayed open on the desk.

Bridget tried to jerk them back together, but Dean stepped between them before she could do it. With absolutely no warning, he plunged his hands into her hair and bent to cover her lips with his. He thrust his tongue in her mouth, tasting her, devouring her. His body was hard against hers, his hips between her thighs, and Bridget couldn’t even try to deny the absolute flood of heat that roared through her in response.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to kiss him back just as deeply. And for a long, heady moment, they made crazy, wild love with their mouths.

Then the moment ended. Dean let her go and staggered back a few steps. “Bridget, I’m...”

She put her hand up, palm out, to stop him. Sliding off the desk, she straightened her skirt and said, “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t say anything. I wanted that. Maybe I needed it just so I could wash Ted out of my memory. I didn’t exactly jump up there and part my legs—he pushed me.”

Dean instinctively swung his head to look at the door, that tense rage returning.

“He’s long gone. Thank you for coming in when you did.”

He ran both hands through his hair, his anger finally draining away. “I’ll take care of him, Bridget.”

“Marty will deal with him.” She stepped closer, offering him a tremulous smile. Because now there was no doubt that Dean’s interest in her was one of more than friendship. That kiss—and his body’s hard, instinctive reaction to it—told her he wanted more. Maybe as much as she did. “I guess that makes you my hero, huh?”

Dean stared at her, his eyes softening, the tension easing. Reaching for her, he pulled her into his arms. But this time, he didn’t attempt to kiss her. His embrace was pure, sweet comfort. He held her tightly, running his hand up and down her back. “I’m sorry. Sorry for what he did...sorry for what I said.”

“It’s all right. You were angry.” Tilting her head back, she smiled up at him. “I thought it was kinda sexy.”

For a second—a brief one—she thought he was going to smile back. To laugh, then lower his mouth to hers and kiss her again, gently this time.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, Dean sighed heavily and his mouth drew tight. “I’m also sorry for kissing you. I should never have done that.”

“I’ve been wanting you to...”

He put his hand up to stop her. “Don’t. It was a mistake, Bridget. A big one. And it won’t be repeated.”

She gasped, unable to believe he was rejecting her. Again.

“What is your problem?” she asked, completely indignant.

He just shook his head. “I don’t have a problem. I just can’t...don’t want...hell, Bridget, this just can’t happen.” As if needing to convince himself, as much as her, he reiterated.

“It won’t happen.”