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“But you sure managed to do it.”
Hearing his twin chuckle, Nick glared. “At least I’m not wearing a ring. I can still try to pick up a hot stranger.”
Mark just laughed harder. Which made Nick consider punching him. Only, Mama was standing behind the counter, glancing curiously at them as she waited on the customers. If Nick went after his twin, she’d come around and whack them both in the heads with a soup ladle.
“Hot stranger…oh, man, you are going to hate yourself when you figure out what you just did.”
His eyes narrowing, Nick waited for his twin to continue.
“You really didn’t recognize her, did you?”
Oh, hell. He should have recognized her? He knew her?
“Still not getting it?”
“Tell me how much trouble I’m in,” he muttered, praying he hadn’t just come on to a cousin he hadn’t seen in years. If they were related—and he couldn’t have her—that would be a crime worthy of a military tribunal. So he prayed even harder that she’d been some girl he’d known in high school.
“Pretty big trouble.”
He waited, knowing Mark was enjoying watching him sweat.
“She is family, you know.”
Damn. All the blood in his body fell to his feet out of embarrassment… and disappointment. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“You shot out of the booth like your ass was on fire.”
Rubbing a hand over his eyes and shaking his head, Nick mumbled, “Who is she? Mama’s side or Pop’s? Please tell me she’s not one of Great Uncle Vincenza’s thirty granddaughters. Otherwise I just might have to re-up and hide from him and his mafia buddies for the next decade.”
Mark’s eyes glittered in amusement. The guy was enjoying this. “Not Great Uncle Vincenza. Think closer.”
Closer. Christ. “There’s no way she’s a first cousin….”
“Not a cousin.”
Oh, thank heaven. “So who?”
“I’ll give you a hint. Did you happen to notice the icing and flour all over her apron?”
Had he ever. He didn’t know if he’d ever smelled anything as good as all that messy, sugary stuff combined with the brunette’s earthy essence. “Yeah. So?”
“You’re not usually this dense.”
“You’re not usually this close to death.”
“Think…the bakery….”
“Natale’s? Gloria’s folks?” And suddenly it hit him. “No.”
“Oh, yes.”
No. Impossible. It was out of the question. “Not Gloria’s baby sister. Tell me that wasn’t chubby little Cookie.”
“She ain’t chubby and I think if you called her Cookie to her face she’d slug you.” Mark threw a consoling arm across Nick’s shoulders, his chest shaking with laughter. “To answer your question, yes, my brother, that was Isabella Natale.”
Nick couldn’t speak. He was too stunned, thinking of how she’d changed. It had been at least nine—ten years, perhaps—since he’d seen her. She’d still been in high school and he’d run into her at a Christmas party at Gloria and Tony’s when he was home on leave. She’d still blushed and stammered around him. And she’d still been girlishly round—pretty but with such a baby-face he’d never taken her crush on him seriously.
Oh, he knew about the crush. Everybody knew about the crush. His brother Tony had threatened to break his legs if he so much as looked at her the wrong way at the wedding.
Huh. He hadn’t looked at her the wrong way. He’d just landed on top of her in a pile of cookies. And had been unable to get up because she’d wrapped her limbs around him like she was drowning and he was a lifeguard trying to save her.
He started to smile. “Izzie.”
“Izzie. Formerly chubby sister of our sister-in-law, turned sexy-as-hell woman, now back in town working at the bakery.”
“Her parents’ bakery up the block?”
“That’s the one.”
“Is she here for good?” he asked, already wondering how things could have turned out this perfectly.
“I don’t know. She’s been home for a couple of months, since Gloria’s father had a stroke. With the new baby, Gloria couldn’t help much, and the middle sister’s a lawyer.”
“So the youngest one came home to take over.” Not surprising. The Natales were much like the Santoris—family meant everything.
It almost seemed too good to be true. He’d finally come across someone who not only made his nerves spark and his jeans grow a size too tight, but who also came with a pre-made stamp of approval from the neighborhood. She was gorgeous. She was feisty. Her smile nearly stopped his heart. She’d had a crush on him forever—and was obviously still affected by him, judging by the way she’d taken off in a huff.
And she was not a faceless stripper behind a mask.
Enough of that. The Crimson Rose was every other man’s fantasy. At this point in his life, Nick wanted reality. He was ready for what his brothers and sister had. And he had just stumbled across a real woman who he sensed could both drive him absolutely wild with want and be someone he could truly like.
“I think I’m feeling a need for some fresh cannoli,” he murmured, smiling as he looked out the window at the sky, streaked orange by the setting sun. Izzie was no longer in sight…she obviously wasn’t too desperate for pizza.
Maybe he’d deliver it to her.
“Judging by the way she bolted, you’d better think again.”
Nick shrugged. He wasn’t worried. After all, Izzie had had a thing for him once upon a time…she had practically chased him down. He just needed to remind her of that.
And to let her know he was ready to let her catch him.
“I SWEAR, BRIDGET, you should have seen his expression. It was as if it was the first time in his life a woman has ever turned him down,” Izzie didn’t even look at her cousin as she spoke. She was too busy punching into a huge ball of dough, picturing Nick Santori’s face while she did it.
Though it had been nearly twenty-four hours since she’d run into him, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Drat the man for invading her brain again, when she’d managed to forget him over the past several years. Ever since she skipped out of Chicago to follow her dancing dreams, she’d been convincing herself her crush on him had been a silly, girlish thing.
Seeing him had reminded her of the truth: she’d wanted Nick before she’d even understood what it was she wanted. Now that she knew what the tingle between her legs and the heaviness in her breasts meant, the want was almost painful.
“Didn’t Nana always say the secret to a flaky crust was not to overwork it?” her cousin said, sounding quietly amused.
Izzie shot her cousin—who sat on the other side of the bakery kitchen—a glare. “You want to do this?”
Bridget, who was pretty and soft-looking, slid a strand of long, light-brown hair behind her ear. “You’re the baker. I’m the bookkeeper.” She sipped from her huge coffee mug. “So why did you walk away? You’ve wanted him forever.”
“Maybe. But I don’t want forever in general,” she reminded her cousin as she floured the countertop and began to work the dough with a rolling pin. “You know I don’t want this for any longer than I’m forced to have it.” She glanced around the kitchen, where she was working alone to finish up the dessert orders for their restaurant clients. Including Santori’s.
Not that she’d be the one delivering their order…no way. Her delivery guy would be in to take on that task shortly.
“I know. You’ll be gone again once Uncle Gus is well enough to come back to work.” Bridget didn’t sound too happy about that, which Izzie understood. Her sweet, gentle-natured cousin was an only child, and she’d practically been adopted by Izzie and her own sisters. They’d been very close growing up.
Izzie missed her too. But not enough to stay here. As soon as her father recovered, and her mother no longer had to nurse him at home full time, Izzie would be out of here for good. Whether she’d go back to New York and try to reclaim some kind of dancing career she didn’t yet know. But her future did not include a long-term stint as the Flour Girl of Taylor Street.
It also didn’t include becoming the lover of any guy who her parents would see as the perfect reason for Izzie to stick around and pop out babies. Even a lover as tempting as Nick.
“So how’s your life going?” she asked her cousin, wanting the subject changed. “How’s the job?”
Bridget leaned forward, dropping her elbows onto the counter. “I guess I’m not very good. My boss obviously doesn’t trust me, there are some files he won’t even let me look at.”
“Weren’t you hired to keep the books at that place?”
Bridget, who’d gone to work three months ago for a local used car dealership right here in the neighborhood, nodded. “They’re a mess. But every time I ask him for access to older records, he practically pats me on the head and sends me back to my desk like a good little girl.”
Izzie assumed her cousin meant her boss figuratively patted her on the head. Because, though Bridget was in no way a fireball like Izzie and her two sisters—she wasn’t a pushover, either. It might take her awhile to get her steam up, but Izzie had seen glimpses of temper in her sweet-as-sugar Irish-Italian cousin. That boss of hers obviously hadn’t gotten to know the real Bridget yet. Because she was about the most quietly stubborn person Izzie had ever met…as anyone who’d ever tried to beat her in a game of Monopoly could attest.
“Why don’t you quit?”
Her cousin lifted her mug, leaning her head over it so that her long bangs fell over her pretty amber eyes. She looked as if she had something to hide. And if Izzie wasn’t mistaken, that was a blush rising in her cheeks.
A blush. Cripes, Izzie didn’t even know if she remembered how to blush. The last time her cheeks had been pinkened by anything other than makeup was when she’d burned herself while lying out too long on the deck of a cruise ship a year ago.
Trying to hide a smile, she murmured, “Who is he?”
Her cousin almost dropped the mug. “Huh?”
“Oh, come on, I know there’s a guy.”
“Um…well…”
“For heaven’s sake, you’re looking at a woman who used to schedule two dates a night, just come out with it.”
Chuckling, her cousin did. “There’s this new salesman.”
“A used car salesman?” Izzie asked skeptically.
Frowning, Bridget asked, “Do you want to hear this or not?”
Izzie made a “lips-zipped” motion over her mouth.
“His name’s Dean,” Bridget continued. “Dean Willis. And Marty hired him about a month ago. He’s got cute, shaggy blond hair and big blue eyes—well, I assume they’re big. They could look bigger because of the thick glasses he wears.”
She watched Izzie, as if waiting for a comment. Izzie somehow managed to refrain from making one.
“He’s sold more cars than anyone else because he’s just so…quiet. Easy to talk to. Unassuming.” Sighing a little, Bridget added, “And he has the nicest smile.”
Izzie had never heard her cousin go on like this about a man. Must be serious. “So, have you gone out with him?”
Bridget shook her head and sighed again—only, much louder. “He’s never even noticed I’m alive.”
Snorting, Izzie replied, “I doubt that. You’re adorable.”
Bridget’s bottom lip came out in a tiny pout. “Fluffy teddy bears are adorable. I want to be…something else.”
Sexy. It was obviously what Bridget had in mind. Izzie eyed her cousin, considering making her over. Bridget had the basics—she just needed to bring them out a little. But she didn’t think Bridget needed much. She was so quietly pretty, so gentle and feminine…any guy would be an idiot to want to change her.
Then again, she’d known a ton of guys, few of whom were Einstein material. “So ask him out. Make him notice you.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Just for a cup of coffee.”
Her cousin snagged her lip between her teeth.
“What?”
“Well, he did ask me to go for coffee once, but I was so flustered and nervous, I told him I didn’t drink it.”
Raising a brow and staring pointedly at the industrial-sized mug in front of her cousin’s face, Izzie grunted.
“But it wasn’t a date,” Bridget added. “At least, I don’t think so.” Sounding frustrated, she added, “Maybe I should get a collagen injection. I’ve heard men like big lips.”
Ridiculous. Bridget’s beauty was the natural kind that needed no false crap like the stuff Izzie had seen other dancers do to themselves. But before she could say that—or threaten to lob a handful of ricotta cheesecake filling at Bridget if she did something so dumb—she heard the bell over the front door.
Glancing at the clock, she bit back a curse. It was nearly five—an hour after closing time. She must have forgotten to lock the door after her part-time lunch workers had left for the day and some customer had wandered in for a snack.
She doubted there was much left to serve. Mornings were their busiest time, with regulars and passers-by coming in for pastries and muffins. During the lunch hour, when Natale’s served light sandwiches and salads along with decadent deserts, they were busy, too. Since Izzie had come up with the idea to offer free wireless Internet access to anyone with a laptop, some customers parked themselves at one of the small, café tables and remained there until closing time. They drank a lot of coffee…and ate a lot of sweets. By 4:00 p. m., Natale’s display counter was generally wiped out, as this late customer would soon discover.
“Hello?” a voice called.
Grabbing a towel, Izzie wiped her hands on it and tossed it over her shoulder. “Be right back,” she told her cousin as she walked down the short hallway to the café. “Sorry, we’re closed for the….” The words died on her lips when she saw who stood on the other side of the glass display case, looking so hot she almost shielded her eyes from the glory of him.
“I know.” He shrugged slightly. “But the door was unlocked, so I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were here.”
Nick stood inside the shadowy café, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the front window. The light reflected in his dark eyes, lending them a golden glow that seemed to radiate warmth. She felt it from here.
“You found me,” she murmured.
“You didn’t exactly need to leave a trail of crumbs, Cookie…this place has been here forever.”
“Don’t call me Cookie,” she snapped.
