Steve shrugged. "Extenuating circumstances." Along with the need to get one certain woman out of his system.
Cameron narrowed his gaze, obviously guessing that there was much more at stake. "Must be some case."
"It is." Steve rubbed his fingers against the throb beginning in his temple. The heat of the sun beating down on his head, along with Cam's line of questioning, was giving him a headache.
Knowing there was no avoiding the inevitable conversation to come-the discussion where he gave his business partner a rundown of the situation so that Cam was familiar with the dynamics of the case should he need to get involved, which was standard practice between the two of them-Steve headed back toward the office building.
"Come on; I'll explain everything inside."
Chapter 3
The tension vibrating through Steve was due to a culmination of sexual anticipation and a keen restlessness he couldn't shake-a hindering impatience that had grown with each hour that passed since Liz had left his office building that afternoon.
Exhaling a harsh stream of breath, Steve continued his agitated pacing across his living room floor. Normally, he was a patient, relaxed kind of guy when it came to delays and lengthy downtime on a case. So many aspects of his job had trained him to endure long waits and even longer hours of dull and monotonous surveillance. It was boring, tedious work at times-no unruly hormones or other unwanted emotions involved-and tonight's prolonged wait should have been no different.
Unfortunately, the mind was a powerful stimulant and had the ability to conjure up all kinds of provocative scenarios that could drive a man crazy. Unlike a straight surveillance job, there was nothing to watch or observe in terms of Liz's case. Not yet, at least.
At the moment, and until the clock struck 11:15 P.M., all he could do was imagine her somewhere on the third floor of that building, titillating callers with frank sexual talk and using her feminine wiles to bring men's explicit requests to life over the phone lines. Servicing other men verbally and getting them off on the dark, carnal fantasies she wove for their pleasure. And what about the callers who deigned it their duty to talk dirty to her in return?
"Christ," he muttered, unable to fend off the surge of frustration adding to the other unexplainable feelings that had consumed his thoughts for the past hour and a half. He shoved his fingers through his thick hair, annoyed with his possessive behavior and the unexpected realization that this one certain woman could get to him on such a gut-deep level-and so damn quickly. He was a man used to being in control of every aspect of his life, his sex life and the women he chose to date included, and he didn't like the fact that he couldn't subdue his uncharacteristic reaction to Liz's temporary job.
Rolling his taut shoulders, he soothed his irritable mood by reminding himself that very soon it would be his turn to increase the heat and level of excitement between them, to share some of his most forbidden desires with Liz and find out what she craved, as well.
And then, later tonight, they'd unleash those fantasies and fulfill them. '
Over the arousal settling like molten heat in his belly, his stomach managed a hungry growl-a surprising bid for food in the midst of his turbulent thoughts. Although he'd eaten dinner hours ago, apparently all his keyed-up energy and the circuit training he'd put himself through in his home gym earlier had quickly burned off his meal. Figuring he had time for a late-evening snack before he called Liz, and welcoming the distraction, he headed into the kitchen, rummaged through the refrigerator, and cringed at the lack of sustenance that greeted him. He hated grocery shopping and hated cooking more-those were two aspects of being a bachelor that sucked.
Grabbing the last cold bottle of beer and finding an open bag of chips in the cupboard, he headed upstairs to a secondary bedroom he'd converted into a fully equipped home office. Sitting down at his desk, he booted up his computer. While he waited for the unit to warm up, his mind wandered to the conversation he'd had with Cameron after Liz's departure that afternoon. They'd discussed the nature of Liz's case, The Ultimate Fantasy, and her cousin's disappearance, so that Cam was at least briefed on the case.
Steve didn't bring up his personal relationship with Liz- what happened between them beyond the case was nobody's business but their own. As a good friend and understanding partner, Cam had respected his privacy and hadn't pushed for details.
He tossed a few potato chips into his mouth, took a long drink of his beer, and checked his personal E-mail account. He chuckled through the series of raunchy, ribald jokes that his brother Adrian enjoyed sending to him and Eric, but it was the E-mail from Steffie Wilde that made him smile and his chest expand with affection.
He loved hearing from his sixteen-year-old daughter, especially since she'd moved to Texas with her mother, Janet, and stepfather, Hugh, nearly three years ago. Steve missed Steffie- E-mails, talking on the phone, and seeing her only a handful of weeks out of the year didn't seem like nearly enough time with her during these crucial teenage years.
But he'd take whatever he could get, including the E-mails and digital pictures she sent through the Internet, which kept him updated on her life. Opening the letter, he read the contents, imagining in his mind how her expressive blue eyes would sparkle as she regaled him with her latest tales of school, her involvement in the drama club, and the boy who'd taken her to one of the high school formal dances.
He clicked on the attached files and looked through the collage of photos she'd taken with the digital camera he'd bought for her this past Christmas. There were pictures of Janet and Hugh, happily married and enjoying their life in Texas, along with shots of Steffie posing for the camera with her beloved golden retriever, Buffy.
And then there was his little girl in a long formal gown, looking absolutely stunning and too sophisticated for her tender young age, standing with a sandy-haired boy who had his arms around her waist and held her much too close for Steve's liking. Her hands rested on his chest, their heads were touching, and the look of adoration glimmering in Steffie's eyes made Steve's heart constrict with a startling sense of deja vu.
Steve took another gulp of beer as a jarring realization crashed over him. His daughter, age sixteen, was not only allowed to date, but she was the same age that he and Janet were when they'd started going steady. They'd become high school sweethearts, and after two years of dating exclusively and just a month after graduation, Janet discovered that she was pregnant.
Eight months later, Steve was a married nineteen-year-old, and a daddy to a sweet baby girl who'd wrapped him around her little finger the moment she was born. He'd worked two back-to-back jobs to support his new and unexpected family, until he'd graduated from the police academy and landed a decent-paying job with Chicago's finest.
For ten years, he'd devoted himself to raising Steffie, done his best to keep his marriage together despite the growing tension between him and Janet, and taken his job as a police officer seriously-until he'd taken a bullet to his upper right arm, which had affected some nerve endings in his hand. The injury hadn't caused any paralysis, thank God. The only time he felt any discomfort was when he did a lot of heavy lifting or worked out with his weights too much. But there had been enough damage for the doctors to worry about his reflexes when it came to shooting his weapon. They'd made the recommendation to Steve's lieutenant that he be reduced to modified work duty, which in essence meant sitting behind a desk pushing paperwork, or writing tickets for expired meters. That hadn't been an option for him, since he wasn't one who could handle a desk job, thus his change in careers to a private investigator.