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Performing again…that caused more stress. Izzie couldn’t deny a small amount of trepidation when she arrived at Leather and Lace Saturday night. This was her first time back since last Sunday, the night of Delilah’s confession-and her arrest. She hadn’t talked to Harry since and she was worried about what the older man was going through.
Bernie was waiting at the back door. “Hiya, Rose,” he said without a smile. Obviously the mood around here was still dour.
“Hi. Harry around?”
He shook his head. “He hasn’t been here much.” Shaking his head, he added, “Wish he’d just ditch that witch and get back to work, this club ain’t gonna run itself.”
Izzie didn’t say anything. She honestly didn’t want to think about what she’d do in her boss’s situation. He was a man who loved his wife…warts and all. Should he be faulted for that? Maybe. But it wasn’t her place to judge.
The dressing rooms and greenroom were pretty quiet for a Saturday night, any chatter between the dancers was going on quietly. Just as well. Izzie didn’t feel very social. There was only one person she wanted to see…only, she didn’t know what on earth she’d say to him when she did.
I miss you. I love you. Please love me as I am and let’s work it out.
All of the above.
He never appeared. She didn’t see him downstairs, and he certainly didn’t come to her dressing room. Izzie went through the motions getting ready, tense and anxious…but for nothing.
By the time she was ready to go on, she was seriously wondering if she’d made a mistake in coming in at all. Her heart was not in it. Not tonight. “The show must go on,” she reminded herself as she walked upstairs and took her place backstage.
She’d like to think she gave her audience her all, but as she began removing her rose petals in time to the music, she knew her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart was in little pieces, scattered around Nick Santori’s feet. Wherever he may be.
Usually, Izzie ignored the audience as she performed-it was part of her “mysterious appeal” as Harry had described it right after she’d started working here. And he’d been right.
Tonight, however, something caught her attention. Rather, someone. Normally, all were still when she performed-including the waitresses. But now, someone was walking from the back of the room straight down the center aisle toward the stage.
It was a man. A dark-haired, dark-eyed man.
A familiar dark-haired, dark-eyed man.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, stumbling a little.
Because it was Nick. A Nick like she’d never seen before.
Though he wore his typical on-the-job tough-guy uniform of black pants and tight black T-shirt, he was carrying a bouquet of roses. A huge bouquet of them. He was also smiling, his eyes locked on her, apparently not caring that she was dancing nearly naked on stage in front of a bunch of strange men.
And for the first time in her entire dancing career, Izzie did something entirely unprofessional. She committed the cardinal sin. She stopped right in the middle of her number.
“Nick,” she whispered.
He had reached the edge of the low stage, which was about as high as his mid-thigh and was staring up at her. The look in his eyes…oh, God, that look. He was smiling broadly, adoring her with his gaze.
He not only looked approving, he looked absolutely enraptured. “Hi, Izzie,” he said, his voice low, intimate, just for the two of them.
The music slowly faded away into silence. The audience began to murmur. One man yelled something like “Down in front,” but he was shouted down by several others who obviously wanted to see what would happen next.
She’d like to know that herself.
“Hi,” she whispered. “Uh…what are you doing?”
His smile widened. “Watching you.”
“I noticed.”
“You’re wonderful.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Thank you.”
“I could watch you dance every night and be a happy man.”
“Who couldn’t?” someone from a nearby table called.
Nick never even glanced over, not distracted. Instead, he lifted the bouquet and offered it to her. Izzie took it, bringing the flowers up to her masked face and sniffing the heady fragrance permeating the red blooms. “They’re beautiful.”
“I figured roses were your flower.”
“Good call.” Laughing a little, she asked, “Is there some reason you gave them to me here? And right now?”
He nodded. “I wanted you to know how proud I am of you and how much I love seeing you dance. No matter who else is here.”
He’d said it. He’d put it into words. Exactly what she needed to hear. “Oh, Nick, really?”
