Wilde Thing

Chapter 1

He had bad boy written all over him, and Liz Adams wanted him in the worst possible way. From his rumpled sable hair and striking, seductive blue eyes to that lean, honed body she'd imagined naked and aroused, he exuded raw sex appeal and brought her feminine instincts to keen awareness like no other man had in a very long time.

Simply put, she was completely and totally in lust with her gorgeous, head-turning customer who'd recently started frequenting her café, The Daily Grind. Over the past month, he'd become a pleasant visual distraction from other responsibilities and worries that had been weighing heavily on her mind.

He lifted his head from the latest best-seller he was reading, and from across the room their eyes met briefly and she caught a glimpse of the to-die-for grin that raised the corner of his sensual mouth. An undeniable warmth and excitement stirred within her, and she had to resist the urge to close the distance between them, rip his black T-shirt and tight jeans off his long, muscled body, and have her wicked way with him. On the countertop, on one of the couches in the sitting area, or even the floor. She wasn't picky about the where part of her fantasy.

Picking up a damp towel, she wiped down the stainless steel espresso machine and let out a wistful sigh that conveyed three long years of suppressed desires. She'd recently turned thirty-one, and she swore she was hitting her sexual prime, because for the past few weeks she'd been craving sex-ever since he'd strolled into her coffeehouse and jump-started her libido, fueling her nightly dreams with carnal, sinful fantasies.

Undoubtedly, it had been too long since she'd felt the exquisite caress of a man's mouth sliding across her sensitized flesh. Too long since she'd experienced the delicious heat of a hard, strong body covering hers, the silken texture and erotic friction of a man sliding deep in a slow, grinding rhythm. Those realistic sensations were something no artificially enhanced sex toy could duplicate, and she missed that kind of physical connection with a flesh-and-blood man.

But as much as her fantasy man over in the corner tempted her, everything from that black leather jacket he wore, to his come-hither eyes and self-confidence, screamed rebel. And she'd vowed after her marriage to Travis that she'd never get involved with another man who was wild and impulsive and had the ability to leave her devastated in the process.

Unfortunately, despite being burned by one bad boy who'd turned out to be bad in the extreme, she couldn't prevent her attraction to the kind of man who possessed a bit of an edge. A take-charge kind of man who was decisive and straightforward yet unpredictable, with a sense of reckless adventure. That Harley-Davidson motorcycle her customer rode told her a lot about the man-that he was secure in his masculinity, didn't like to be constrained by rules, and was untamable, intrepid, and daring as well.

Even knowing he was most likely all wrong for her, that those qualities could only lead to trouble and heartache, she still wanted him. Badly.

"Mind if I make myself a chilled mocha before you finish cleaning up?"

The sound of Mona Owen's voice snapped Liz out of her private thoughts and jolted her back to reality and the cleanup still awaiting her attention. She glanced at her good friend and owner of The Last Word, a new-and-used bookstore that directly connected to her coffeehouse cafe, and caught Mona eyeing the last of the drink mix in the blender.

Liz grinned, having grown used to Mona's tendency to mooch leftovers near closing time. "Sure. Help yourself."

Mona tossed ice into the concoction, switched the blender on for a few seconds, then poured the frothy drink into a plastic cup and added a straw. "I've been meaning to ask you if you've heard from your cousin Valerie yet."

The reminder of Valerie's vanishing act brought Liz out of her fantasy and back to the helpless feeling that had grown with each passing day. "I haven't heard a word from her since she left me that vague note Friday night." And all the message had said was that she was going to a weekend work party with a new boyfriend, Rob, a wealthy client she'd met through The Ultimate Fantasy, the phone sex place where she worked.

Admittedly, it wasn't out of the ordinary for Valerie to do something as frivolous as to take off with a boyfriend for a short getaway. Her twenty-four-year-old cousin had always possessed an impetuous streak and often did outrageous things to get attention, but the weekend had come and gone and here it was, Tuesday evening, and Liz had yet to hear from her.

She knew Valerie enjoyed her unconventional occupation, but there had been other aspects of her job that her cousin had mentioned that had troubled Liz-like those fantasy parties that dealt in other services and sexual escapades. She couldn't help but worry that Valerie had gotten herself in over her head with this man she'd taken off with. A guy Liz had never met, and the only connection she had to Val's disappearance was The Ultimate Fantasy.

"Are you thinking about contacting the police?" Mona asked.

"I already tried that." Grabbing the steaming pitcher, she dunked it into the hot, soapy water in the sink and took out her frustration in scrubbing the stainless steel pot. "I called and spoke with an officer, but once I told him about the note Valerie left, stating she was off on her own free will, he said at this point there wasn't any evidence of foul play to warrant an investigation, and all I could do was file a missing-persons report on her behalf."

And with every day that passed without a word from her cousin, Liz's concern grew. So far, she'd been able to keep Valerie's vanishing act from Val's parents, Liz's aunt and uncle, who'd moved from Chicago to Southern California almost a year ago. Ben and Sally Clark were wonderful, kindhearted relatives who'd raised Liz from the age of twelve after her own parents had died. The two of them had always treated her like a second daughter, which Valerie, as an only child, had resented at times. Thus her cousin's penchant for being excessive and irresponsible, and much too self-centered.

If Liz hadn't promised her aunt and uncle she'd watch out for Valerie as well as keep her out of trouble, she'd probably write this scenario off as one of her cousin's eccentric antics. But she had agreed to look after Valerie, even going so far as to share her apartment with her cousin. Liz had taken on the request as an opportunity to prove that she was reliable and responsible after her disappointing fiasco with Travis. She'd desperately wanted to please her aunt and uncle and earn back their respect.

Guilt and frustration drove her, and this situation with Valerie certainly wasn't going to earn Liz any extra brownie points. Especially since she'd had to lie to her Aunt Sally, who'd called on Monday evening to talk to her daughter. While Liz had told her that Valerie was out of town for a few days with a "friend," it was only a matter of time before her aunt phoned again. Liz hated covering for Valerie, yet she had no choice for now.

"So what are you going to do?" Mona asked as she stirred her straw through her thick, icy drink.

Not wanting to shell-shock her aunt and uncle with the news that Valerie indulged in phone sex for a living unless she absolutely had to, Liz had opted to pursue her cousin's absence herself, in the only way she knew how. She bit her lower lip and gathered the fortitude to spill her secret to Mona.

"I applied at the same phone sex company where Valerie was working," Liz said. "I have an appointment for an interview at The Ultimate Fantasy tomorrow morning at eleven."

Concern creased Mona's dark brows. "Do you think that's safe or smart?"

Liz didn't want to respond directly to that question, because she knew the answer would be a resounding no, and she wasn't about to give up on the idea. "It's the only way I can think of to get inside information on Valerie or where she might be. Someone there has to know something, even if they just saw her at the party."

Mona shook her head, her expression adamant. "I don't think this is something you should do on your own."

Liz dragged her fingers through her hair and sighed. "The police aren't willing to get involved, so I don't have much of a choice."

Her friend was quiet for a few moments while she considered Liz's idea, her gaze focused on something out in the lounge area. Then a bright smile spread across her face. "Why don't you hire Steve Wilde?"

Liz frowned in confusion as she filled a basket with scones and another tray with gourmet cookies. "Who?"

Mona pitched her empty plastic cup into the trash and hooked her thumb toward Liz's fantasy man. "Steve Wilde. The guy you've been lusting after for the past month. And don't bother denying it. I've been watching the two of you, and when you're not ogling him, his eyes are following you. And from my astute observations, that lingering gaze of his is hungry for more than just your pastries." She gave Liz a playful but encouraging wink.

Wilde. God, even his last name insinuated trouble of the most sensual variety. Her gaze strayed back to the lounge just as he unfolded his big, lean body from his chair and shrugged into his well-worn leather jacket, causing the muscles in his arms and across his chest to shift temptingly as he moved. Her pulse quickened with female appreciation. He was so compelling, his magnetism so potent, she couldn't help but respond to his stunning good looks.

He picked up his book and keys from the coffee table and glanced up, his disarming gaze locking with hers-as bold, direct, and unapologetically sexual as the man himself. He tipped his head in acknowledgment, causing a lock of unruly sable hair to fall across his brow, accentuating his rakish appearance. The private, sinful grin he graced her with literally stole her breath and sent her hormones into an overwhelming frenzy of sexual longing. Her breasts swelled and tightened, her nipples tingled, and a surge of liquid desire settled in intimate places.

Oh, yeah, he was most definitely trouble personified.

He exited the cafe, leaving her with more than enough new, stimulating material to fuel another night of erotic mind candy. She returned her attention to Mona. "So, tell me, how do you know his name?"

Her friend snagged a biscotti from the glass jar on the counter and munched into the baked treat. "He's come into The Last Word to purchase a few books, and we've talked a time or two."

Which essentially meant that Mona knew not only his name but his age, marital status, and occupation as well.

Finishing off her cookie, Mona licked the crumbs from her fingers. "And knowing the attraction between the two of you is mutual, I'm thinking it's time you took off that gold band you wear on your finger that makes men think you're taken, and take a walk on the Wilde side."

"Ha-ha. Very funny," she said, though the idea was one she'd already considered… in her fantasies.

"I'm being completely serious." Mona's tone reflected just how resolute she was. "At least about taking that ring off your finger and putting yourself back on the market. There's a time and place to shed everything-your ring, your clothes, your inhibitions…" she added meaningfully.

The lights overhead glimmered off the gold band she'd worn since Travis's death, mocking her solitary, abstinent lifestyle-of her own choosing, she reminded herself. She was still struggling to dig herself out of the financial mess her late husband had left her in when he'd died three years ago, and she didn't want or need the complication of a binding relationship. Not when her focus was on her cafe and seeing her savings account back in the black again.

Feeling useless resentments clawing their way to the surface, she redirected their conversation back to their original topic. "You mentioned hiring Steve Wilde. What for?"

"Because while he might have all the markings of a bad boy, he's definitely one of the good guys. He's a private detective with his own agency, and I'm betting he can help you out with Valerie." Excitement infused Mona's voice. "At the very least, he can offer advice or follow up on your cousin's disappearance without you putting yourself at risk."

So, he was a good guy with a bad-boy demeanor, a combination Liz found much too intriguing. "It's not like I have a lot of extra money to pay a private investigator. You know that." She'd spent the past three years on a tight budget while Travis's debts had drained a huge portion of her savings. "I could barely afford to have the alternator on my car fixed, let alone a Pi's professional services."

"Maybe Mr. Wilde would be willing to work out a payment plan of some sort," Mona offered with a sly smile, leaving no doubt in Liz's mind what her friend meant. "I have his business card back in my shop if you're interested."

On a purely business level, Liz supposed an initial consultation with Mr. Wilde couldn't hurt, and any free advice he might impart could only help her in her search to find her wayward cousin.

"I'm definitely interested in Steve Wilde," she said to Mona, and realizing how those simple words could be misconstrued, she followed that up with a quick, "I mean, in his business card."

"Of course." Amusement and satisfaction flashed in Mona's eyes. "I'll be right back."

Liz watched her friend trek across the short distance to her bookstore, anticipation making her heart pound hard in her chest. She swore that contacting Steve Wilde-the object of her fondest, most carnal dreams-had nothing to do with her attraction to him, and that her interest was strictly professional.

Her mind accepted the lecture. Unfortunately, her neglected body wasn't completely convinced.

Steve Wilde wasn't a man easily shocked. Yet he couldn't have been more stunned when his secretary, Beverly, announced that Liz Adams was there to see him. Seconds later, the woman who'd occupied too much of his thoughts lately appeared in his office, her vivid green gaze meeting his from across the room.

She looked incredibly sexy. He'd only seen her in her work uniform of jeans, T-shirt, and a bib apron that tied around her neck and waist. Nothing overtly suggestive or clingy, but he'd seen enough of her coming and going to know that she had the kind of full, luscious figure he liked on a woman. And the thigh-length form-fitting cocoa-colored skirt and matching blouse she was currently wearing confirmed a knock-out, head-turning shape he couldn't help but admire and appreciate.

Unlike his brother Eric, who was drawn to a woman's ass, and Adrian, who went for long, shapely legs, Steve was first and foremost a breast man; he liked them full and firm and preferred more than a dainty handful to fondle and play with. The V neckline of Liz's blouse dipped low, giving him a glimpse of an ample amount of cleavage that made his mouth water and his fingers itch to touch. He assumed she was wearing a bra with no padding, because he could see the faint outline of her nipples pressing against the silky fabric of her top. He imagined the velvet texture of those stiff crests in his mouth, against his tongue, and felt a rush of pulsing heat spiral straight to his groin.

With a barely perceptible nod from him, his secretary, Beverly, quietly closed the door as Liz continued to walk into his office. The skirt she wore accentuated the indentation of her waist and the provocative sway of her shapely hips. From there, he took the liberty of continuing the sensual journey, taking in the curvaceous outline of her thighs and long, lightly tanned legs designed to wrap around a man's hips and clench him tight in the throes of passion.

God, he just wanted to eat her up, inch by delectable inch- from her soft, glossy lips all the way down to those pink-painted toenails peeking from the opening of her heeled sandals, and everywhere in between.

Much to his delight, there was nothing dainty, delicate, or petite about her. No, she was a well-built woman with a voluptuous body made for hot, hard, lusty sex. Which was just the way he liked his physical encounters, though it had been too long since he'd been with a woman who matched his sexual appetite and could fulfill his needs and demands in the bedroom.

Shaking off his surprise at Liz's impromptu visit, along with the thrum of arousal taking up residence within him, he stood and casually rounded his desk to greet her. "You're Liz, from The Daily Grind." He held out his hand and waited for her to acknowledge the gesture.

"That's correct." With a slow, sensual smile that made him feel sucker-punched, she slipped her palm against his, allowing his long fingers to envelop her hand in the superior strength of his grip.

Her flesh was warm and soft, but her handshake was firm and confident. As for the instantaneous chemistry that leaped between them at first touch, well, that was nothing short of a simmering heat just waiting for the right flame to ignite their attraction into a blazing inferno.

She didn't try to tug her hand away when he lingered and brazenly brushed his thumb along her skin. Rather, she maintained eye contact and waited until he chose to release her, confirming his first impression of her at the coffeehouse: that she was a strong, independent woman who was secure in her femininity and had no problem giving as good as she got when it came to the battle of the sexes.

He liked those unique qualities about her and knew she was a woman with enough tenacity and daring to keep him stimulated physically as well as intellectually. A rare feat and challenge he'd more than welcome, if it weren't for the ring encircling her left-hand finger, which told him she belonged to someone else.

As soon as he let go of her hand, she said, "I hope you don't mind, but Mona gave me your card."

Ahh, Mona, the chatty albeit friendly woman from The Last Word who enjoyed prying information from her customers. "I'll have to thank her for the business." Though he'd always thought of Liz in terms of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The kind that made him wake up sweating in the dark of night, his muscles rigid and his cock granite-hard from erotic images of Liz beneath him, her body soft and inviting and just as tight as his own fist stroking his erection.

Before his libido reacted to the nightly, obsessive dreams that plagued him, he leaned his backside against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Adams?"

"Actually, it's Ms. Adams," she clarified.

He glanced at the ring she was absently twisting around her finger. Since she'd come to him and was in his territory, he figured he had every right to ask frank, personal questions. "So, you're not married?"

She shook her head, causing her silky, shoulder-length blond hair to brush along her jawline. "No, I'm single."

She didn't give an explanation for the band she wore that indicated otherwise, but he'd just learned all he needed to know to give him the incentive to pursue her on a more intimate level. With less than two feet of space separating them, there was no denying the awareness between them, and their attraction was something he had no qualms about using to get what he wanted.

And what he desired was her.

But first, he was curious to know her reasons for seeking him out. He inclined his head and prompted, "And you're here because…?"

She inhaled a deep breath, causing her breasts to rise and fall in a very beguiling way. "I'd like to inquire about your services."

Her tone was very businesslike, but he couldn't stop the slow, shameless grin her double-edged words evoked. "By all means, have a seat and let's discuss what services of mine you're interested in," he drawled, and indicated one of the tweed chairs behind her while he rounded his desk to his own leather seat.

Her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink at his subtle innuendo as she settled herself in the chair facing his desk and crossed one leg over the other. "Since you're a private investigator, I'm hoping you can help me out. My cousin, Valerie Clark, is missing."

Her statement took him momentarily off guard. While he'd been surprised that she'd shown up at his agency without an appointment, the last thing he'd expected was her soliciting his help on a professional level. Years of training, first as a beat cop, then as a PI, told him she was being completely straightforward and serious with her request, and the distress he detected in the depths of her eyes was real.

Interest of a different kind took hold, and he set aside the file he'd been reviewing and reached for his pen and pad of paper, his mind already in an investigative mode. "Why don't you tell me what you know about your cousin's disappearance, from the beginning, and we'll go from there."

He jotted down notes as she proceeded to brief him on Valerie Clark's situation, from her involvement in The Ultimate Fantasy, a phone sex business, to the new boyfriend Valerie had started seeing recently, who'd been a client. With thought-provoking questions, he drew more information from Liz and discovered her concern that The Ultimate Fantasy offered more "behind the scenes" services, which were an extension of the phone sex business, and her belief that her cousin was involved in those extracurricular activities with the man she'd been seeing on the side.

Leaning back in his chair, he rolled his pen between his fingers as his gaze took in her hopeful expression-hope that he'd agree to help find her missing cousin. "Quite honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if The Ultimate Fantasy did offer their clients more than basic lip service. These places are notorious for inviting certain clients who spend a lot of money on phone sex to private parties that offer drugs and stimulants, prostitution, and other sexual services. Sex is a big moneymaker, and a place like The Ultimate Fantasy has the employees and clients to capitalize on such a lucrative side business."

She nodded in agreement, obviously having come to the same conclusion on her own. "As much as I hate the thought of Valerie being involved in such a shady organization-and believe me, I discouraged her as much as possible about taking on the job-I know she's attended those work parties with other coworkers and with this guy she recently started seeing."

"Do you know this man's name?" he asked.

"Rob. Valerie never mentioned a last name." Seemingly feeling restless, she stood and paced to the windows overlooking the building's parking lot from two stories up. "Valerie and I live together. Over the past month, there have been times when she's been gone a day or two with Rob, but she's never been away longer than a weekend," she said, her voice tinged with what sounded to him like a heavy weight of guilt. "Since I haven't heard from her and it's already three days into the week, I can't help but worry that she's gotten herself in over her head with this guy she's seeing. And the only link I have to her right now is through The Ultimate Fantasy."

As his gaze lingered on her profile, he listened as she went on to explain her conversation with the police, and heard the frustration in her tone when she told him that they refused to do anything more than file a missing-persons report until they had something more substantial to investigate. As a former police officer, he was familiar with the department drill. He also knew how important it was to start a trace on a missing person ASAP, when there was still a warm trail to follow and before potential leads dried up.

He needed something substantial to give him a solid lead. Something more tangible to trace.

Steve thought about the scenario Liz had laid out for him, his gut instinct agreeing with her suspicion that her cousin's disappearance was somehow connected to her date and The Ultimate Fantasy party she'd attended. Which made his normal, straightforward investigative procedures a bit more difficult to follow. Because in a case like this, he needed inside connections to pursue eyewitness accounts of Valerie actually being at the party, when she'd left, and whether any of those people knew who her date was, or even his last name. At this point, any small kernel of information would help him to trace Valerie.

He wished the proceedings could be as simple as flashing his badge to an employee or office manager and asking questions about Valerie and The Ultimate Fantasy parties, but he was certain any mention of an investigation on his end wouldn't go over well with the owners. He'd probably immediately get tossed out on his ass with a warning not to return.

He wasn't looking to bust anyone, but he needed to unearth related and helpful facts, which meant going undercover to dig up details on Valerie Clark's whereabouts.

"If you decide you want me to take on the case, I'll need to find a way to get an invitation to attend one of the fantasy parties, which might take a little time since I'll have to establish a calling pattern with one of the operators and work my way in from there."

She turned around quickly, her green eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Maybe I can help you with that."

He frowned, unable to guess what she was getting at. "How so?"

She cast a glance at the watch on her wrist, then back at him. "I have an interview at The Ultimate Fantasy in about an hour for part-time evening work as a phone operator. My cousin told me it was pretty easy to get hired on, and I thought if I could get inside the company, I could ask around about Valerie and find out where she was last seen, and with whom."

He raised a dark brow at her daring. "That was-"

"Stupid?" she interjected before he could finish, her spine straightening defensively.

A slow burn of arousal ignited in his blood. God, even that determined spark and fire of hers turned him on, because he knew she'd be just as zealous and hot in his bed. "I was thinking more along the lines of gutsy."

"Oh." She relaxed and offered him a contrite smile he found too damned sexy. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He meant the compliment. Not many women would have the nerve and fortitude to embroil themselves in the business world of sex and sin, all for the sake of finding a cousin. It made him wonder if Liz would be willing to indulge in fantasies and erotic games for the pure pleasure of it. With him, of course.

Having established that she was single, he intended to find out.

But for the moment, he tapped his pen against his notepad and considered her willingness to help find her cousin. While he didn't usually allow his clients to get directly involved in the cases he chose to investigate, he couldn't deny that having Liz working the inside track of The Ultimate Fantasy would give him easier and faster entry to the private parties they held. Which in turn would, hopefully, provide the access and information to Valerie's whereabouts they needed, especially with Liz, an employee of the business, on his arm. And since he had a strong hunch she'd pursue the phone sex business with or without his agreement, he figured she'd be better off with him on her side, making sure she remained safe.

"I'll take the case," he said, knowing he was offering his services for more reasons than just to find her cousin.

Being with Liz added a huge incentive as well, but Steve had a sixteen-year-old daughter of his own, and Steffie was never far from his mind when he came across cases that involved young girls or women in perilous situations. The "What if it were Steffie?" question always seemed to prey on his conscience and prompted him to accept the case in hopes of securing a happy ending for all and peace of mind for himself. Based on what Liz had told him about Valerie's personality, his gut told him she wasn't in mortal danger, but he'd never play Russian roulette with another person's life.

"I'll need as much information as you can give me on Valerie." He withdrew an application from a side drawer for her to fill out. "Any bank account numbers you know of, statements, credit cards, social security number, driver's license. And I'll need a recent photograph of her, too. Give me anything you think would be helpful in tracing her."

"I'll go through her mail." She was quiet for a moment, then said, "There is one thing that I found in a pile of papers on her desk at home that seemed odd. I found a receipt for a passport."

"Great. That's exactly the kind of stuff I need to know." He made a note of the passport receipt on the form. "Did she ever mention that she was planning on leaving the country?"

Liz shook her head. "No. Surprisingly, that's one thing Valerie hasn't done yet. But I suppose there's a first time for everything."

"It's definitely something to consider, along with the possibility that she left the country with this Rob guy. We just need more crucial pieces to the puzzle, like Rob's last name, to figure out where the hell she is." He made another notation on the application before setting his pen aside.

"By the way, I normally charge one-fifty an hour, plus expenses," he went on, laying out his fee and terms. "But on a case like this that might take hours of prep work, I can offer a flat rate of five grand for up to a month's time, which will include my services, twenty-four-hour access to my pager, as well as my protection and professional advice in terms of you working for The Ultimate Fantasy."

She visibly winced at the amount he quoted. "Five grand? Wow, that's more than I expected."

A shrug lifted his shoulders. "I may not be the cheapest PI in town, but I'm definitely one of the best."

She laughed, but the sound was tinged with disappointment. "While I don't doubt your abilities and professional expertise, that's about four times more than I can afford."

The defeat in her tone, along with the despair he saw glimmering in her eyes as she met his gaze, hit him hard and low.

Despite that, a semblance of a smile touched her lips. "I guess I should thank you for your time and advice and be on my way."

An odd sense of panic clenched his belly, one he couldn't fully define, but before she could clear the front of his desk, he blurted, "Wait."

She stopped and turned back to face him, her expression both startled and curious. "Yes?"

He scrubbed a hand along his tense jaw and knew there was no stopping what he was about to offer. "Tell you what, I'll take on the case for a thousand bucks." Though he hated even taking that much from her, since she was obviously financially strapped despite the success of her coffee shop-a fact he found unusual and interesting.

She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, and damned if he didn't detect a hint of vulnerability beneath all that bravado. "Why would you do that for me?" she asked, her tone cautious and wondering.

Why, indeed. A variety of reasons popped into his head, mainly that he wasn't about to let her traipse into The Ultimate Fantasy on her own without any outside connections to keep tabs on her. If something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself, especially since he knew the details of the case. She needed guidance and more advice, and he wanted to be the guy to dole out both.

He spread his hands out in front of him, striving for a casualness he didn't completely feel. "Let's just say I have some extra time on my hands these days."

A bald-faced lie that she obviously didn't believe, either, judging by the skepticism that etched her classical features. But she didn't argue with him-that was how strong her desperation was to find her cousin.

"All right, if you're sure about that, consider it a deal." She exhaled a relieved breath and headed over to her purse and withdrew her checkbook. "And I'll sign my paychecks from The Ultimate Fantasy over to you, as well. That should help compensate some of your expenses."

"Don't worry about my expenses." He'd eat the rest himself, every last cent over a grand. "A thousand flat fee is fine."

Her lips thinned into a determined line. "I don't want to take advantage of you or your services, and I don't like being indebted to anyone. Signing my paychecks over to you is part of our deal."

He handed her the application to take, fill out, and return to him, impressed with her tenacity. "If it makes you feel better, then fine."

"It does, and I insist." She took the paper, then continued writing out the check. When she was done, she handed him the payment voucher.

He took their agreed-upon fee, folded it in half, and put it into his top drawer, to hand over to Beverly to deposit later. He glanced back at Liz and watched as her tongue darted out and dampened her bottom lip in a gesture that made him think of that sweet mouth and soft tongue of hers stroking elsewhere… lapping at his taut, heated skin, sliding along male erogenous zones, and swirling along the length of his rigid cock.

Oh, yeah, especially that.

The sexual tension between them was strong and undeniable, triggering a hunger in him that settled in his lap in the form of a killer hard-on.

If they were going to be working side by side, she deserved to know exactly how he felt about her, and just how much she tempted him. "I have to warn you, I don't know how the hell I'm going to keep my hands off you," he said.

Liz's chest tightened at Steve's unabashed statement, and an internal kind of heat rippled through her. Her pulse kicked into high gear, and she managed, just barely, to remain outwardly composed.

But she couldn't deny that his blatant interest aroused her. As did the casual way he sat in his chair and held her gaze, so confident and one hundred percent male. A dark-haired, blue-eyed rogue who had no qualms about hesitating to go after what he wanted.

At the moment, she was the object of his desires.

And he'd been hers for weeks.

She knew a challenge when she heard one, and she displayed an ample amount of daring to match his. "Who says I want you to keep your hands off me?"

A dark brow rose over one of those disarming, see-everything eyes of his. He looked both taken off guard at her brazen response and pleased at her temerity. "Nice to know the sentiment is reciprocated, especially since I've wanted you since the first time I walked into The Daily Grind for a drink and you asked me what my pleasure was," he said, stunning her with his confession. "It's that ring on your finger that's kept me from pursuing you sooner, but now that I know you're single and our interest in one another is mutual, maybe it's time we found out what my pleasures really are."

She pressed a hand to the fluttering in her stomach. She couldn't believe where this conversation was heading. Couldn't believe what he was suggesting. Letting this irresistible fantasy man of hers become reality in the purest sense awakened her baser feminine needs and beckoned to the wanton woman within her, who was drawn to that intoxicating blend of bad-boy eroticism and adventure he exuded.

When she remained quiet, he went on. "As much as I want you, I suppose it's only fair to let you know that I've been married before and I'm not looking for anything long-term or complicated-just in case that matters."

She offered him a wry smile, appreciating his honesty, even while her mind absorbed the enormity of what he was proposing. "Well, we definitely have that in common."

He tipped his head and regarded her speculatively. "You're divorced?"

"Widowed, actually, though the marriage should have ended in divorce," she said, revealing more than she'd intended. She highly doubted that sharing details of their private lives was part of any deal between them.

"Yet you're still wearing your wedding ring?" His curious gaze dropped to the ring on her left hand, silently asking for an explanation.

She twirled the gold band around her finger, for the first time ever feeling self-conscious for wearing it for the sole purpose of avoiding men's advances. "The ring isn't mine. It was my mother's, and my aunt saved it for me after my parents died, then gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday. I wear it because I'm not looking for anything complicated right now, either."

He rocked back in his chair and rubbed his thumb along his jaw in an absent caress, studying her from across the expanse of space separating them. Then, abruptly he asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

Odd question, she thought. "Should I be?"

"Depends on the situation and circumstances," he said, giving her the distinct impression that he was testing her, though she had no idea why. "Yes or no?"

Her heart beat hard in her chest, the thrill of the forbidden heightening her anticipation. "No, I'm not afraid of you."

Sliding back his chair from his desk, he crooked his finger at her, his striking blue eyes smoldering with a heady, come-hither invitation that made her insides turn to jelly. "Then come here, sit on my lap, and prove it."