When this close, he had a very good view of the Crimson Rose…a view of a trim waist made for his hands. Of supple legs he could almost feel wrapped around his hips. Of slender fingers that had tangled easily in his hair. A delicate throat for nibbling. Lush round breasts for cupping. And when she removed the petals covering those breasts, his mouth flooded at the image of sucking on those dark, pebbled nipples.

Every bit of her was familiar…to his eyes, and to the rest of his body. He knew what it would be like to taste her, to touch her, to hear her soft little moans of pleasure.

To hear her…

Her voice. That voice. That body.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, certain he’d lost his mind but unable to chase the thought away. Because as he watched the performer disappear behind the curtain after her dance, he saw a face behind that mask. A face he saw in his dreams every night.

Izzie’s face.

“It can’t be,” he mumbled, staggering back into the shadow. He hit the wall in the corner and slid down it, bending over so his hands landed on his knees. Sucking in a few deep breaths, he kept his head down, thinking over everything he knew about Izzie Natale. And about the Crimson Rose.

She’d taken dance lessons throughout her childhood, he remembered that. She’d gone to New York to become a performer. On the stage. She hadn’t exactly said she’d been an actress.

My God, had she been a stripper at some high end Manhattan club? And when she’d been forced to return to Chicago after her father’s stroke, had she taken up the same profession here-wearing a mask so she wouldn’t possibly be recognized?

Their bodies were so alike-how could he not have seen it before? Then again, he had never seen Izzie naked before, until two nights ago, so he couldn’t possibly have known that her legs were as long and supple as a dancer’s. That her hips were full enough to make a man hard just at the thought of getting his hands on them. That her breasts were big, high and inviting.

She’d hidden a lot behind the apron. So much that he hadn’t registered that Izzie and Rose were the same height, had the same builds. Or that their hair was close in color-the length of Rose’s obviously caused by some kind of hairpiece or wig.

Now it registered. But it still seemed impossible. Absolutely unbelievable that cute little Izzie, Gloria’s baby sister…the girl who’d crushed the cookies for God’s sake…was the woman driving men all over Chicago insane with lust.

Including him. Especially him.

At that moment, he knew it was true. He’d been reacting to Rose and to Izzie the very same way from the moment he’d seen each of them. With pure, undiluted want based on absolutely nothing but instinct and chemistry.

They were the same. His body had known that immediately. His brain had finally caught up.

Somehow, he managed to stay on the sidelines and finish doing his job throughout the long night until the club closed at 2:00 a.m. He stayed upstairs, sending one of the other guys down every so often to do a sweep outside the dressing rooms. He didn’t trust himself to go down there and confront her yet.

If he did, it might get loud. And neither one of them might be ready to go back to work after they had the blowout fight Nick suspected they were going to have.

It was definitely going to be a blowout, and probably not for the reasons Izzie would suspect. Yeah, it bothered him that his sister-in-law’s kid sister was working as a stripper. But he was no prude, nor was he judgmental. He’d seen her act…she was not only good, she was damn good.

As someone who was-and might again be-Izzie’s lover, he was not happy. Couldn’t deny that. But again, not so much because of other men looking at her, but more because she was working in a very risky field. Putting herself in danger.

The real reason he was fuming was because she’d lied to him. She’d been deceitful, letting him chase after Izzie by day while Rose pursued him by night. The woman had nearly sent him out of his mind-for what? Some twisted game? A power trip?

He didn’t know. He just knew he wanted answers. And when the club finally shut down and everyone began to drift away, he walked downstairs, determined to get them.

Nick knew she hadn’t left yet, he’d been watching her car in the parking lot, which was emptying as everyone departed for the night. She usually left much earlier-since her last number took place around midnight. And it didn’t take her long to get ready since she didn’t bother taking her mask off before getting into her car and roaring away. Obviously for his benefit.

But she was still here. So he could only assume one thing: she was waiting in her dressing room, either hiding in the hopes that he’d leave first. Or preparing herself for his arrival.

Because she had to know he’d figured her out. All she’d have had to do was look out at him in the audience during her second set and see the steam pouring out of his head. And the fire burning out of his eyeballs.

Reaching her closed door, he remembering she’d said it had no lock. He gave her a one-knock warning, then entered without waiting for an invitation. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide…he’d seen her body, both as Izzie and as Rose.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, staring at him from across the room, where she’d been slipping a jacket on. She was dressed casually, in a loose, comfortable-looking pair of baggy pants and a tank top. If she hadn’t been wearing the mask, she’d have looked just like the girl next door.

Like Izzie.

God, what a blind idiot he was not to have seen it before. The eyes were the same-though “Rose’s” were shadowed by the mask. Those lips couldn’t be denied. The shape of her jaw, the length of her neck. Everything about the Crimson Rose was Izzie under a sexy microscope. Everything about Izzie was the Crimson Rose in nice girl trappings.

“What do you want, Nick?”

“You’re here late,” he murmured, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Um, yes, I guess so,” she replied.

“You don’t usually stay until closing time.”

She tilted her head back, her chin up, displaying outright bravado. She was going to try to bluff her way through this, since she couldn’t be certain she’d been busted. “One of the other dancers got sick and had to leave. I wasn’t sure if Harry would need me to cover for her.”

He hadn’t. Nick knew that much. If he’d had to watch “Rose” in a third performance on the stage, he would have lost it. He didn’t know that he’d have been able to keep himself from going up there and confronting her right in front of the audience.

She fell silent, just watching him. Waiting. Nick said nothing, not giving himself away yet. He wanted to see what she’d do. How far Izzie would go to maintain her secret.

God, it killed him that she didn’t trust him. He had no illusions about why she’d put that mask on her face in the beginning. Her parents would be upset if they found out. He could even see why she’d kept quiet the first couple of times he’d worked here-before she knew she could trust him.

But now he was her lover. She’d trusted him with her body. She should have trusted him with her secret.

“Well,” she said, “I guess it’s time to go.”

“So soon?” he murmured, leaning back against the closed door, blocking her escape. He crossed his arms and stared. “But this is the first time we’ve been alone in quite a while.”

She licked her lips nervously. Nick almost felt that moist tongue on his own mouth and had to force himself to stay cool.

“It’s late.”

“I know. It’s also nearly deserted. You and I might be the very last ones here,” he said. Watching her closely, he saw the way she gulped as that truth dawned on her. They were practically alone in this big building. No one would hear if she decided to shout for help.

As if Nick would ever hurt her. He’d sooner cut off his own arm. That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t intend to torment her just as much as he possibly could.