Overexposed. Leslie Kelly

ment. “He barely even noticed my existence.”

      “Then he was an idiot.”

      The other side of her mouth came up; this time her genuine amusement shone clearly. “Oh, undoubtedly.”

      “He didn’t deserve you.”

      “Absolutely not.”

      “You’re better off without him.”

      “Nobody knows that better than me.” She sounded more amused now, as if her guard was coming down.

      “Enough about him,” Nick said. “If you don’t like my first name, call me by my last one. It’s Santori.”

      He watched for a flare of surprise, a darting of the eyes to the sign in the window, proclaiming the name of the place.

      Strangely, she didn’t react at all. “I think we’ve already determined what I should call you. You said it yourself.”

      Puzzled, Nick just waited.

      “Idiot,” she said, tapping the tip of her finger on her cheek, as if thinking about it. “Though, honestly, it doesn’t quite capture you now. It might have sufficed years ago, but for today, I think we’ll have to go with…complete shithead.”

      Nick’s jaw fell open. But the sexy brunette wasn’t finished. “By the way, that number you wanted? Here it is, you might want to write it down…1-800-nevergonnahappen.”

      And without another word, she shoved at his chest, pushing him out of the way, then strode out the door. Leaving Nick standing there, staring after her in complete shock.

      “I’d say that didn’t go well.” Mark stood right behind him, watching—as was Nick—as the brunette marched off down the street like she’d just kicked somebody’s ass.

      Well, she had. Namely his. He just didn’t know why.

      “No kidding.”

      “I see you haven’t lost your touch with women.”

      “Shut up.” Shaking his head in bemusement, he lifted a hand and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know how I blew that so badly.”

      “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