The fact that he was bored out of his mind helping out at Santori’s and hadn’t yet met a single appropriate woman who made his heart beat faster—much less one he wanted to pick out baby names with—was merely a product of his own re-adjustment to civilian life. He’d come around. Soon. No doubt about it.
As long as he avoided going after the one woman he’d seen recently who not only made his heart beat fast but had also given him a near-sexual experience from across a crowded room. Because she was in no way appropriate. She was a stripper. One he’d be working with very soon now that he’d agreed to take a job doing security at a club called Leather and Lace.
Forcibly thrusting the vision of the sultry dancer out of his brain, he focused on the type of normal woman he’d someday meet who might inspire a similar reaction.
He’d have help locating her. Everyone, it seemed, wanted him to find the “perfect” woman and they all just happened to know her. The next one of his sisters-in-law who asked him to come over for dinner and coincidentally asked her single best friend to come, too, would be staring at Nick’s empty chair.
“Do you know how glad I am that your wife’s knocked up?”
“Yeah, me too,” Mark replied, wearing the same sappy look he’d had on his face since he’d started telling everyone Noelle was expecting. “But do I want to know why you’re so happy?”
“Because it means she doesn’t have time to try to set me up with her latest single friend/hair stylist/next-door-neighbor or just the next breathing woman who walks by.”
Mark had the audacity to grin.
“It’s not funny.”
“Yeah, it is. I’ve seen the ones they’ve thrown at you.”
“You seen me throw them back, too, then.”
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