with him, he was going to be mad. More than mad—irate. Especially because of how insistent she’d been that it was a one-shot deal.
Boy did she wish it didn’t have to be a one-shot deal. She still got shaky and shivery and weak and wet thinking of that amazing interlude in the van. It had been the most intensely sensual experience of her life.
But not to be repeated. Never.
Not as Izzie. Not even as the Crimson Rose. Because now that he’d had her naked in his arms, it was all too possible that he’d recognize her as Rose. Dancing and interacting with him at work was going to be difficult enough. If she let him get close—the way she’d invited him to that night in her dressing room—there was no way she’d be able to keep her secret.
So tell him the truth.
The idea had merit and Izzie knew it. Part of her truly wanted to—it wasn’t easy maintaining a double life with no one to talk to about it. He’d listen—she knew he would. And she even suspected he wouldn’t judge her about what she was doing. Given the things he’d said about feeling so hemmed in by his own family and their expectations, she thought he might even understand. A little.
But telling him—bringing him in to her alternate life—would mean involving him deeper in her real one. Each secret shared would be another rope tied to her body, holding her down, dragging her back into the world she’d fought so hard to escape.
If he knew she was Rose, there would be no reason they couldn’t get more involved, at least at work. That, however—a secret, sordid affair conducted in dressing rooms and closets at Leather and Lace—wouldn’t be enough for him. She knew it down to her very soul. He’d insinuate himself in her daily life, start tangling her in the ropes of a relationship, make her fall for him even harder...so he would be even harder to leave.
No. She could not tell him.
“Rose? Didja hear me?”
Realizing the other dancer was waiting expectantly for her reaction to the flowers, Izzie nodded. “Yes, thanks, Leah.”
“Not a problem. It was pick ’em up or trip over ’em,” she said with a cheery smile. Without the stage makeup and the sequins, the young woman looked so fresh-faced and wholesome an average set of parents would have asked her to babysit.
She’d been the first of the dancers to befriend Izzie when she’d first taken the job at Leather and Lace. The others had been slower to warm up, especially Harry’s wife, Delilah, who’d been the featured dancer up until a couple of years ago when she married her boss. Now she served as a sort of warden to the others...and hadn’t liked that Izzie wasn’t interested in her rules and regulations. She especially hadn’t liked that she couldn’t get her husband to order Izzie to listen to her...and that the Crimson Rose had become hugely popular.
The rest of them had all come around, though, especially since they had all started bringing home more money every weekend that she performed.
“How did you get into this, Leah?” she asked.
The girl shrugged. “Typical story. My parents divorced, father split out West somewhere. Mom remarried an asshole who tried to touch me after she’d passed out on their wedding night.”
Izzie instinctively reached out and put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, I survived. Stabbed him in the wrist with a fork and took off. Never looked back.”
“Do you...” She didn’t know how to proceed without seeming judgmental. It just seemed so sad to think of this young woman making this, dancing at Leather and Lace, her only career goal. For Izzie, it was a part-time thrill to stay in shape and save her sanity. Some of the women here, however, saw no other future for themselves.
“What?”
“Do you think you’ll do something else when you get tired of this?”
Leah nodded, her blond curls bouncing around her pretty heart-shaped face. “I got my GED last year and I’m taking college classes. I’m planning to be a nurse.”
“Good for you.”
Hearing footsteps upstairs, Izzie glanced at her watch. It was only six—a couple of hours before her first number. Usually Nick showed up later than this. But hearing the deep male voice from upstairs, she immediately stiffened.
“That’s our sex-on-a-stick bodyguard I hear up there.”
“Damn,” Izzie muttered, immediately whirling around. “Stall him if he comes down the stairs, okay?”
“You still playing the ‘nobody can see me’ game with him?”
Izzie