Wilde Thing (21 page)

“There’s something I’ve been curious about.” She reached out and traced the tribal band encircling his arm. “There’s the name Steffie inscripted into your tattoo. Is it your ex-wife’s?”

Like many other women who’d asked before her, he almost instinctively evaded the too personal question. But he’d promised Liz that she could ask him anything, and more important, he was ready to let her into that private part of his life—knew it was a huge step in their developing relationship. She knew little about his past, his marriage, and his daughter, and he wanted her to understand who he was really was, beyond the PI she’d hired and the man she shared her fantasies with.

Besides, whatever was happening between them demanded total honesty and complete openness, and he was willing to do his share. “Steffie is my sixteen-year-old daughter, Stephanie.”

Liz’s soft green eyes widened with astonishment. “Wow, you don’t look old enough to have a sixteen-year-old child. I mean, you’d briefly mentioned that you had a daughter, but I thought maybe she was ten years old, tops.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but I’m thirty-six, and some days I feel twice as old,” he joked.

He watched her mentally do the math in her head as she ate another bite of her breakfast. “Which means you were nineteen when she was born.”

He nodded and finished off his coffee. “That’s right.”

She brushed the pastry crumbs from her fingers, apparently speculating upon that revelation. “So, did you go out and get the tattoo when she was born?”

“No. I decided to get the tribal band after my divorce was finalized. It was one of those spontaneous, rebellious acts I’ve surprisingly never regretted. As for Steffie’s name, at the time I figured she’d be the only woman to forever hold my heart, and I’d never have to worry about having her name erased from the design.”

Liz’s eyes danced with laughter and something more sentimental. “That’s incredibly sweet. She’s lucky to have a father like you.”

“She’s a joy, and I love her very much.” Leaning back in his chair, he absently ran his finger around the rim of his empty coffee mug. “Unfortunately, I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like, since she lives in Texas with her mother, Janet, and stepfather, Hugh.”

She tipped her head and tucked the honey-blond strands of hair that brushed across her cheek behind her ear. “That has to be difficult for you.”

“It is. And my parents miss her, too, since she’s their only grandchild. But I take whatever I can get with her, whether it’s a month in the summer, a week here or there, or even a card in the mail.” He smiled, as he always did when it came to his daughter. “She loves to E-mail, so I’m always getting chatty letters from her that keep me fairly up to date on what’s going on in her life.”

He recalled the latest E-mail he’d received from her, and the pictures he’d printed out on photo paper to add to his collection. He stood, took both of their cups to the sink, and took their sharing one step further.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.” He gestured for Liz to follow him out of the kitchen.

He led the way into the living room, to the open oak
bookcase against the wall, filled with music CDs, movie tapes, and a slew of photographs. He picked up a framed print of Steffie wearing a softball uniform, at the age of eight, with a gap-toothed smile, and showed it to Liz. “This is my little girl, who isn’t so little anymore. When this picture was taken, she was going through a tomboy stage.”

“She’s adorable,” Liz said, and glanced up at him, her gaze traveling over his features. “She has your deep-blue eyes and smile.”

“Yeah, she does,” he said proudly.

He showed her the rest of the photographs, which ranged from toddler to teenager and the varying stages in between. There were snapshots with him, his parents, and Janet with her new husband, Hugh, at Steffie’s eighth-grade graduation ceremony. And then there were the most recent prom pictures his daughter had sent to him.

He showed that one to Liz, as well. “She just E-mailed me this photo, and it nearly killed me to see her all grown up like that.”

“She’s grown into a beautiful young woman, and her date seems very taken by her.”

He frowned. “Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

Liz raised a brow, a humorous smile quirking the corner of her mouth. “Are you worried about what’s going on in that boy’s head where your daughter is concerned?”

“Hell, I
know
what’s going on in his head,” he said with a low, fatherly growl of disapproval. “Janet and I started going out when we were sixteen, and it didn’t take us long to move past the hand-holding and kissing stage.”

She studied another picture, with Janet and Steffie together. “High school sweethearts?” she guessed.

“Yeah. And two years later, fresh out of high school, she got pregnant, and we got married.” He grinned wryly. “And yes, before you ask, we were using birth control.
Would you believe we were one of the statistical one percent the Pill failed with?”

She cringed, then seemed to recall the comment he’d made a few nights ago when she’d told him that she was on the Pill. “There’s no such a thing as too much protection,” she said, repeating his words.

“In my experience, anyway. Steffie’s proof of that, but I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

She was quiet for a moment, then tentatively asked, “Do you mind me asking what happened to your marriage?”

He couldn’t deny the curiosity gleaming in her eyes. Didn’t want to. “Not at all. Come sit with me.” He grabbed her hand and led her toward the brown suede sofa.

Once they were settled next to each other, he stretched out his long legs, crossed them at the ankles, and laced his hands behind his head. “Let’s see, where do I begin?”

“At the beginning,” she suggested helpfully.

If she was interested enough to listen about his past, then he was more than willing to lay it all out on the line for her. “Janet and I obviously got hitched because she was pregnant, which isn’t a great way to start a marriage, but we did love each other, and we were determined to make things work for the baby’s sake. For the first two years, I worked back-to-back jobs to make enough money to keep Janet at home with Steffie; then I decided to pursue my interest in being a cop, which didn’t thrill Janet, but it was a decent-paying job with great benefits—and every day was a new adventure, which I enjoyed.”

Turning toward him, she drew her legs up beside her and pulled the hem of his shirt down over her bare thighs. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Because she was beginning to know him well. He kept the remark to himself, certain that was more than she was prepared to handle at the moment. “What can I
say. I like the thrill of the chase,” he drawled, and winked at her.

She rolled her eyes in amusement. “Go on with the story.”

“Anyway, my job as a cop put a lot of stress on my marriage to Janet—along with raising a kid at such a young age. I worked a lot of graveyard and swing shifts, and I took the overtime when it was offered, so we’d be able to put away extra money. Unfortunately, the long hours and the danger of the job started wearing on Janet and, eventually, our marriage. Then I got shot in the line of duty, and that didn’t help matters any.”

She sucked in a quick, startled breath. “You were shot?”

“Yeah, right here.” He lifted his right arm and pointed to a puckered scar hidden within the intricate design of his tattoo. “The tattoo makes for a nice camouflage, don’t you think?”

“That it does.” She lifted her gaze back to his, and the concern he detected in her expression warmed him. “Did the bullet cause any permanent damage?”

“There was nerve damage, just enough to affect my reflexes when it’s cold outside, or when I overuse my right hand or arm. I know my limitations, but my lieutenant wasn’t willing to take the chance of having me out in the field and not being able to properly fire my weapon.” Looking back, he knew his lieutenant’s decision had been the right one to make, no matter how angry Steve had been at the time.

“So, that was a turning point for me, since I wasn’t about to accept a mundane desk job,” he went on. “That’s just not me. I need to interact with people, and I like solving cases. So, becoming a PI was a natural transition.”

“And your marriage?” she prompted.

“Pretty much fell apart after I got shot.” He scrubbed
a hand over his unshaven jaw. “It was more than Janet could take, and we both knew that after ten years it just wasn’t working out between us, that we were mainly staying together because of Steffie. But neither one of us was truly happy. So, we opted for an amicable divorce.”

“It’s nice that the two of you remained friends,” she said softly.

Steve couldn’t imagine their split being any other way, and he wondered if Liz was thinking of the way things had ended for her and her husband, which hadn’t been pleasant at all, but strained and bitter because of his deceit and cheating.

He slipped his hand beneath the hem of the shirt she wore, and flattened his palm on her thigh, just to keep some kind of physical connection between them. “Janet and I have a daughter together, and her mental wellbeing is the most important thing to both of us. She’s an amazingly well adjusted kid, despite the divorce, and she gets along great with Janet’s new husband, too.”

Desire darkened her eyes as he stroked her smooth skin with his thumb, but his caress didn’t distract her from their conversation. “Would you have married Janet if she hadn’t gotten pregnant?”

The question wasn’t an easy one to answer, and it wasn’t something he’d really thought about. At the age of nineteen, he’d owned up to his responsibilities and never questioned what he knew he had to do. “I think Janet and I would have stayed together for a while, but I don’t know if our relationship would have ended in marriage. Before she got pregnant, she had plans to go to college back East, and I always wanted to be a cop, which she never liked, so and I think we would have eventually gone our separate ways. But there’s no use speculating on what-if’s, and I’ve never regretted or resented the way things turned out.”

“You’re
amazingly well adjusted,” she joked, a small smile etching her lips.

“Everything in life happens for a reason, and sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.” Just like his feelings for her. Unexpected, yes, but not unwanted.

He watched her twist that ring of hers around her finger and knew he’d given her a lot to think about this morning—from his confession that she was the first woman to spend the night, to his past and marriage. Now it was time for her to get into the mind-set of meeting with Antonio.

“Why don’t you go get ready, and I’ll take you back to The Daily Grind for your car so you’re not late to your appointment this morning,” he suggested.

She nodded and stood, then glanced back at him. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower here and get that out of the way?”

“The bathroom is all yours,” he said, and felt an odd, tangible loss when she moved off the couch and stood. “Use whatever you need.”

She fingered the collar of his shirt she was wearing. “Since my blouse is shredded, I’ll definitely be borrowing your shirt until I get home, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.”
As long as you bring it back smelling of you.

She turned and headed out of the living room, and he watched her make her way up the stairs. He ached to follow her, to tell her how he really felt about her, to make her admit that her feelings for him had changed, as well. But Steve knew it was more important right now to give her space to process everything that had happened between them the past twenty-four hours, to bring her around slowly instead of forcing something she wasn’t quite ready to face just yet.

Her heart might be there, but her head hadn’t yet accepted the truth, and he refused to crowd her, or make
her any more wary than she ready was. And ultimately, it was unfair of him to put any kind of emotional burden on her right now, when her focus needed to be on resolving her issues with her cousin.

And Lord knew her issues ran deep. He just hoped that when this mess with Valerie was over, Liz would come to realize that she no longer needed to live her life for others—that it was time she lived her life for herself.

Liz sat as calmly as she could manage, in the chair situated in front of Antonio’s desk. Her hands were clenched in her lap, and her stomach rolled nervously as he met her gaze and smiled at her in a way that was easy-going and friendly.

Despite the fact that Antonio pedaled sex for a living, he was, surprisingly, very likable. He was also a good-looking businessman who dressed in high-dollar clothes and jewelry, drove a top-of-the-line Mercedes, and ran what Liz suspected was a multimillion-dollar company. He treated his employees decently and fairly, and from what she’d heard from other operators, that was unusual in this particular business. He also knew how to flatter and bolster a woman’s confidence to get what he wanted, and right now that charm was focused on her.

“I’m extremely impressed with your transcripts so far, particularly with your nightly eleven-fifteen
P.M.
caller,” he said, getting right to the crux of his reason for meeting with her. “It appears you’ve ensnared yourself a steady client who’s very interested in meeting you.”

“Yes, so it seems,” she said, playing along, the warm, sweeping blush on her cheeks very real when she thought about Antonio being privy to the explicit conversations she’d had with Steve. “He’s very persistent, too.”

“And very loyal to just you, according to the calling pattern he’s established.” He leaned back in his high-backed, leather chair and regarded her thoughtfully over the fingers he’d steepled together. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m flattered, obviously, and he seems like a nice enough guy,” she said, smiling. “And the extra bonus money coming in from his calls is especially nice.”

“Would you like to make more money?” he asked, homing in on that part of her reply, just as she’d intended.

Because of her conversation with Roxanne, Liz knew exactly what he was insinuating, but played it low-key. “Of course I’d love to make more money, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”