Overexposed

Nodding, Mark sipped his beer.

“Doesn’t matter if she’s a blonde, brunette, redhead or bald. Any single woman with a pulse gets shoved at me.”

“And Catholic,” Mark pointed out.

“Mama’s picks, yeah. But none of them are my type.”

Deadpan, his brother asked, “Women?”

“F-you,” he replied. “I mean, I do have a few preferences.”

“Big—”

“Beyond that,” Nick snapped.

Mark relented. “Okay, I’m kidding. What do you want?”

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? Nick had no idea what he wanted. It was supposed to be someone who’d make him want this. This sedate, small-town-in-a-big-city lifestyle.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for what all of you have.”

When Mark’s brow rose, Nick added, “I wasn’t criticizing. You all seem happy. The couples in this family don’t seem as…”

“Boring?”

“I guess.”

“Thanks,” his brother replied dryly.

“No offense. But you’re all the exception, not the rule.”

Mark murmured, “That’s a lot of exceptions.”

It was. Which meant Nick was out of luck. How many great, happy marriages could one family contain?

But damned if he wasn’t going to give it a try. He’d been telling himself for the last three years of his active enlistment that once he was free—once he was home—he was going to have the kind of life the rest of his family had. The dreams of that normal, happy lifestyle had sustained him through some of the wickedest fighting he’d ever seen. He would not give them up now. Not even if they suddenly seemed a little sedate.

“Face it, they won’t rest until you’re ‘settled down.’”

“Like you?” he asked, raising a brow. His twin was a hard-ass Chicago detective who could hardly be described as “settled down.” The man was as tough as they came, despite his occasionally goofy sense of humor.

“Yeah. Like me.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You are in no way settled down.” He glanced at the cuts on his twin’s knuckles.

Mark smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. “Guy resisted.”

“Does Noelle know?”

The smile faded. “No, and if you tell her I’ll pound you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms across his chest, Mark nodded. “I guess you might be able to hold your own now that the Marines toughened you up and filled you out.”

It had long been a friendly argument between them that Nick had inherited their mother’s lean, tall build like Luke and Joe. Mark and Tony resembled their barrel-chested father. But after many tough, physical years in the military, Nick was no longer anybody’s “little” brother. “I think I could take you on.”

“I think you could take anybody on. So why don’t you come down to the station and talk to my lieutenant?”

“Not interested in your job, bro. I’ve had enough of rules and regulations for a while.” They’d talked about the possibility a few times since Nick had returned home, but he wasn’t about to relent on that issue. He’d done his time on the battlefields of Iraq, he didn’t want to add to them in Chicago.

“Yeah, okay,” Mark said, glancing around the crowded restaurant. “I can see why this is so much more up your alley.”

Nick followed his glance and smothered a sigh. Because Mark was right. Helping at the pizzeria was no problem in the short term, heck he’d helped run the place when he was in high school, putting in more time than any of his siblings. But did he really want to become a partner in the business with his brother Tony, as he used to talk about…and as the family was hoping?

Seemed impossible. But Mark was the only one who would understand that. “I’m getting into protection,” he admitted.

“You gonna mass-produce rubbers?” Mark sounded completely innocent, though his eyes sparkled with his usual good humor.

“I can’t wait to tell your kid what a juvenile delinquent you were. Like when you put the Playboy magazine in Father Michael’s desk drawer in sixth grade.”

“Believe me, my kid will know Dad’s on the job from the time he’s old enough to even think about swiping candy bars. Now, what’s with this protection business?”

“I’m going to work part-time as a bodyguard.”

“No kidding?” Mark said, sounding surprised.

“Joe did some renovation work on a nightclub uptown and got friendly with the owner. Turns out they need extra security, so he set up a meeting. I went in Sunday night to talk to them.”

“Bet Meg loved big brother Joe working in a nightclub.”

Like the rest, their older brother Joe was happily married. Nick knew he’d never even look at another woman.

“So,” Mark asked, “why does a club need a bodyguard?”

Nick knew exactly why this club needed a bodyguard after watching the erotic performance by a dancer called the Crimson Rose. The sultry stranger had inhabited his dreams and more than a few of his fantasies ever since he’d seen her on stage, revealing her incredible body while still remaining, somehow, so above it all. He imagined men with less control might try to do more than fantasize about the woman.

“The performers attract a lot of unwanted attention,” he said, not wanting to get into details. Not because he was embarrassed about his job, but because he didn’t want to start talking about the rose-draped dancer and her effect on him.

Nick didn’t need that kind of distraction in his life. A hot stripper definitely did not fit in with the nice Santori lifestyle he kept telling himself he wanted. Not one bit. Which meant working with her was going to be a trick.

But he’d handled bigger challenges. Besides, meeting her—talking to her—would take the bloom off that rose. Intense fantasies were meant for women who were untouchable, mysterious, unknown. It was, he’d come to believe while living in the Middle East, part of the allure of veiled women living in that culture. The unknown always built high expectations.

The Crimson Rose soon would not be an unknown. He’d see the face that had been hidden behind the mask and her secrets would be revealed. Which would make her much less intriguing.

Wanting his mind off her until it had to be when he started work, he changed the subject. “This place is hopping.”

“So why aren’t you out there taking orders from women who’d like to order a side of you with their thick crust?”