“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.
Only, he wasn’t unreachable. Because she’d seen that look at her sexy, glittery underthings. And his reaction to them.
Which was when Izzie started to get an inkling of what was bothering him. It wasn’t a matter of him liking her or disliking her. Of him recognizing her or not recognizing her.
He wanted her. She just knew it.
Nick wanted to have sex with a stranger-a stripper-and he didn’t like that about himself. He didn’t like that weakness. She could practically hear his thoughts now, since she’d been raised exactly the way he had.
It wasn’t good. It wasn’t nice. It didn’t quite fit the wholesome neighborhood-kid image.
It was, however, very honest. And despite how he felt about it, Izzie liked that very much. As a matter of fact, she loved that he wanted her. Not quite as much as she’d loved that he’d wanted Izzie-the invisible girl-but pretty darn close.
Trying to hide her smile, she walked around behind a changing screen and slipped the silky robe off her shoulders. Tossing it over the top of the screen, she murmured, “You’re not…uncomfortable in here with me, are you?”
He didn’t reply at first. Glancing at the mirror, she saw his reflection-saw him shake his head. Then he cleared his throat, answering aloud. “I’m fine.”
He was turned toward the wall-away from the screen, away from the mirror. Which was probably a good thing, considering the reflection ran all the way to the far wall…even on her side of the changing screen.
If he looked in that mirror, the screen would prove to be completely superfluous. He’d see every bit of her…except her still-masked face.
She took her time getting dressed.
“That’s good. If you’re going to be working here, I suppose you’re going to have to get used to seeing a lot of your coworkers.” She licked her lips and almost purred as she added, “Much more than you’d see in a normal job.”
“I’m not easily shocked,” he muttered.
Turn around and we’ll see.
But he didn’t. Curse the luck.
“Can we talk about your routine, how you drive to work, what time you usually arrive?”
Bending over, she slipped out of the tiny G-string, then straightened and draped it over the top of the screen, answering his questions as she undressed. She never took her eyes off him, waiting for him to turn around, imagining how his eyes would widen and his mouth would drop when he realized he could see every move she made in the mirror.
He remained in the same position; however, the flash of movement must have caught his eye. Because his gaze shifted over-quickly, almost imperceptibly-but he definitely glanced.
She watched his reflection, seeing the way his body grew harder. His black trousers highlighted the clench of his muscular thighs and that tight butt. Though he made no sound at all, he dropped his head forward and slowly shook it, desperation rolling off him though he remained entirely silent.
Triumph surged through her as she realized what was happening. He was dying for her. And desperate to resist her.
Izzie continued to take her sweet time as she pulled on a pair of tiny panties-not much bigger than the G-string she’d just discarded. Then she added a matching lacy bra, cut low, almost to her nipples. Not the type of underclothes one would expect of a baker…they were the types of silky things she wore beneath her clothes to remind herself that she was not a sweet Betty Crocker wannabe.
Through it all, Izzie was careful not to dislodge the mask. She was also careful of her clip-in hair extensions. They took her shoulder-length dark brown hair down to the middle of her back, and added reddish highlights that worked well in her act. If he recognized her, the game would be over. And right now, Izzie was enjoying the game too much to let it end.
Particularly because she’d begun to see exactly how it could be played.
With no rules. No restrictions. Complete anonymity.
As the Crimson Rose, she could have him-take him-completely free of the repercussions that would surround her if she dared to do such a thing as Izzie Natale. She could have incredible sex with him, enough to get her deep-rooted need for him out of her system for good, then walk away, without anyone ever knowing the truth.