Waking Up to You Overexposed - By Leslie Kelly Page 0,91

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