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Not look at her. Not watch her. Not batter at her defenses with every flex of that body, every whiff of his spicy scent that filled her head whenever he was near.
God, this was hard. So much harder than it had been last weekend, when she hadn’t had him. When she didn’t know what he was capable of.
“You have something on your…it’s…”
Shrugging uncomfortably, he reached for her again. This time, she stayed still. At least until he yanked at her eyelashes hard enough to jerk her eyelid off her face. “Ouch!” she yelped, slapping his hand away.
His hand was still stuck to the lashes so when she smacked him, she only ended up hurting herself more. As his hand flew away, he took the lashes with him, ripping them off her lid.
“I thought it was a bug,” he said with an uncomfortable grimace.
She yanked her false eyelashes out of his fingers. “A bug? You thought I had a bug on my face?”
“It’s not like you’d be able to tell if you did with that stupid mask on. Why do you wear it when you’re not on stage, anyway?”
Oh, boy. A question she definitely couldn’t answer.
“You don’t have to keep up this mysterious woman act for the staff, do you? So why not take it off and take a deep breath?” Swiping a frustrated hand through his short, spiky hair, he added, “Or at least put your damn false eyelashes on more securely?”
She almost growled in annoyance. He was the reason she’d had to put the lashes on through the eyehole in the mask. “I want a lock on my dressing room door,” she whispered harshly.
He glanced at the knob. “You don’t have one?”
“No.” Thinking quickly, she added, “And that’s one reason I keep the mask on all the time. I have no place to go for complete privacy. A reporter who did an article on the club a few weeks ago came creeping around down here one day, trying to get a picture of the real me.”
Nick moved in close, towering over her, burning her with his heat. Putting his hands on the wall on either side of her, he trapped her in. “Who is he?”
Izzie nibbled her lip, trying with every ounce of her strength not to throw her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. Or to shove him away so he’d stop looking searchingly at her, seeing her eyes…how could he not recognize her eyes? How could he be this close and not know the smell of her body?
It was good that he didn’t, she knew that. But it was also starting to tick her off.
“Just some reporter,” she murmured.
“Have you had any problems with him since?”
“No, he hasn’t been around since the story came out. Would you relax?”
“You tell me if you see him.” Then, staring hard at her, he slowly pulled back, releasing her from the prison of his arms. An odd look appeared on his face, as if he’d suddenly realized just how close they’d been and wasn’t happy at himself for it. Clearing his throat, he added, “I’m sorry I hurt your eye.”
“It’s all right.” Slipping away from him, she headed again to her door, relieved to have escaped his scrutiny. Good thing he’d let her go, because the longer he stayed so close to her, the more angry she was going to get that he didn’t know her.
Especially because a mask would never prevent her from knowing him.
Huh. Men. So painfully unobservant.
“I hope you’re taking me seriously,” he said, that gruff, no-nonsense tone returning to his voice, his apology obviously done.
“I am, I am.” She practically bit the words out from between her clenched teeth, ready to smack him if he didn’t shut up and let her go get herself back under control. And fix her eyelashes.
“No more running out to your car alone to get something you forgot.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“No more coming back upstairs and mingling close to closing time.”
She seldom did that, anyway. Whirling around, she offered him a sharp salute, and snapped, “Got it, chief.” Then, determined not to listen to another word, spun on her heel and strode into her dressing room, slamming the door shut behind her.
It was only after she’d shut him out that Izzie realized how stupid she’d just been. Nick had annoyed her so much-both because of his overbearing protective bodyguard schtick and his inability to see what was right in front of his face-that she’d completely forgotten her role in this. The role she played as the Crimson Rose.
Because during those last three words, when anger had overtaken common sense, she’d forgotten to speak in her sexy, husky voice.
She’d been pure, 100 percent Izzie.
7
Leather and Lace employed a few burly bouncers to watch the doors and to stand in the back of the crowd during the show. Their presence was mainly to inspire intimidation to keep the audience on its best behavior. And they did their job well, especially the tallest one, Bernie, whose beefy build concealed a guy with a deep belly laugh and a good sense of humor.
