"Not in the least. As a kid, I loved the sweet, buttery flavor. Now, as an adult, I think of caramel as rich, creamy… and highly seductive." He dipped and swirled his index finger into the sauce covering the mound of whipped cream, then brought that caramel-coated digit less than an inch away from her mouth. "Taste it and tell me what you think."
Her pulse leaped at the provocative game he was instigating in a very open public place. The wicked look in his eyes dared her to play, and she knew she had two options-to revert to the sensible, practical woman she'd been for three years and push his hand away, or to embrace her newly emerging sensual side and indulge in his brazen challenge.
She quickly assessed the situation and their position. They were in a corner of the lounge area, his wide shoulders turned toward her and angled in a way that shielded her from prying eyes and gave them a cloak of seclusion. And that was all the reassurance she needed to match his shameless actions.
He grew impatient, touching her lips with the sticky-sweet confection, boldly pressing them apart. She held his gaze and obeyed his silent command, opening for him, letting him slide his finger into the warm, wet recesses of her mouth.
She knew what caramel tasted like. She was one of those rare females who preferred the buttery, rich candy over chocolate, but she never knew how arousing it could be when mixed with the flavor of hot, salty male flesh. Never knew how turned on she could get by lapping the treat off a man's finger. And judging by the tense set of Steve's jaw, the quickening rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, he was equally transfixed by the sexual connotation inherent in her stimulating performance.
He started to pull his hand back, but she encircled his wrist and stopped him before he could withdraw. He might have been the one to start this scandalous stunt, but she intended to finish it. She swirled her soft tongue around his long finger, grazed the length with her teeth, and nibbled the tip before taking him deep into her mouth again and sucking the last of the sweetness from his skin.
His breath hissed out between his teeth, and his pupils dilated-dark, hot, and glittering with a fierce hunger that gave Liz a sense of feminine power. The erection bulging against the fly of his jeans thrilled her, and knowing she was pushing Steve to the edge of his restraint, she finally released his finger.
"Definitely rich, creamy, and seductive," she murmured, and slowly dragged her tongue along her lower lip. "I think I just discovered a new aphrodisiac."
"Caramel?" he asked, his voice tight.
A beguiling smile tipped the corners of her mouth. "When it's drizzled over the right dessert."
His nostrils flared as her meaning sank in, and a slash of color highlighted his cheekbones. "If we weren't in a room full of your customers and employees, you'd be flat on your back right now and I'd be the one licking that caramel sauce off your body. Every single delicious inch of it."
The image of that erotic fantasy caused her nipples to pucker so tight they hurt. Her sex felt wet, swollen, and she managed-just barely-to maintain her composure and strove for a reckless, fearless reply. "You think so?"
He growled, the primitive sound sending delightful shivers down her spine. "Don't tempt me, sweetheart."
His tone was playfully intimidating, and while she didn't think he'd really follow through on his sexy threat and take her right there on the sofa, she wouldn't put it past him to haul her off to the storage room or women's restroom to have his way with her.
He released a harsh exhale and shifted in his seat. Setting his drink on the secondhand oak table in front of the couch, he grabbed the leather binder he'd walked in with.
"Let's talk business," he muttered, and unzipped the portfolio, revealing an all-in-one management system. He flipped to a tabbed section marked Liz, which contained pages of notes in his masculine handwriting. "Going on the passport tip you gave me about Valerie, I checked to see if an international or domestic flight had been bought under her name."
Forgetting their fun, sexy exchange in favor of information on her cousin, Liz focused on Steve and what he'd discovered. "And what did you find out?" she asked anxiously.
"Nothing on that, unfortunately." He thumbed through a few pages and skimmed over more written information. "I also managed to check the charges on her credit cards to see if she'd purchased a ticket from some other source, and again, no luck."
Hope kicked up the beat of Liz's heart. "So then, you think she's still here in Chicago?"
"No, not necessarily. Rob could have purchased an airline ticket for her," he said pragmatically. "As for your cousin, she made a bunch of other charges on her credit card, mainly clothing and lingerie purchases."
That detail didn't surprise Liz. "That's nothing unusual. Valerie has always been a clotheshorse." And very frivolous in her spending habits.
"It was a big expense, nearly a grand in all, which seems excessive, especially since the purchases were made all in one day. I went to the place the charges were made, talked to a few salespeople, and showed them the picture of your cousin that you gave me, but didn't get more than a confirmation that she'd been there."
His dark brows drew together in further speculation. "And there was also a four-hundred-and-fifty-dollar charge to a luggage store, which seemed pretty steep for an overnight bag. So, I followed up on the charge and found out it was for a full set of luggage, including a garment bag."
Liz's eyes widened. "I had no idea."
He studied her for a long moment. "You and your cousin aren't that close, are you?"
"We were raised together," she said, and heard the defensive note creep into her tone. "We're as close as sisters are."
"But you don't share a whole lot of stuff like sisters who live together would," he said, making his point in a gentle but direct way.
"No." The words felt thick in her throat. "Despite being raised together, we both have very distinctly different personalities, and that has contributed to a lot of strain between us over the years."
There was more, such as the old resentments her cousin harbored, and Valerie's craving for attention, that had shaped her into the impetuous, reckless woman she'd become. But Liz felt partially accountable for that drastic change in her cousin, because she'd come into Valerie's life unexpectedly, forcing her to adjust from being an only child, whom her parents absolutely doted upon, to having another girl-a rival in her eyes-steal away half of everything that was hers.
"I love Valerie," she said quietly, "and I'll obviously do anything for her, but no, I wouldn't call us best friends."
The admission hurt, more than she realized. Ever since the day she'd moved in with her aunt and uncle at the tender young age of twelve, Liz had always yearned for Valerie's friendship, and yes, on some level, her approval. She'd always wanted a sister, and she'd done her best to create that special bond between her and Val until she realized that her cousin had no desire to share anything with her beyond what was necessary. Still, Liz had always held out the foolish hope that Valerie would come around and change her mind about their being friends.
Steve stared at her with those intelligent eyes of his that seemed to reach deep into her soul and tug on emotions she'd spent years keeping under wraps, just as he had last night when he'd coaxed her to talk about Travis.
She grew uncomfortable beneath his penetrating gaze and wondered if he could sense her internal guilt-her sense of obligation both to Valerie and to her aunt and uncle for everything they'd sacrificed for her by taking her in when her parents died.