She bit her lower lip, undecided whether or not she wanted to share the sordid details with a man who was the epitome of sexuality. A gorgeous, virile man who was her personal fantasy in every way. "You want the truth?"

"Sweetheart," he drawled smoothly, "I always want the truth."

And no faking anything. He'd made that abundantly clear, too. The man was a stickler for honesty and took a person's integrity very seriously. They were qualities she herself appreciated in return.

Still, she fudged with her response, which wasn't a lie at all. "Well, let me put it this way, being a phone sex operator is definitely not my cuppa tea."

"Maybe it all depends on getting the right caller on the phone," he suggested, a mischievous note lacing his low, mellow baritone.

A caller like me, his voice implied. She silently admitted that he had a very valid point.

"What have your clients requested tonight?" he persisted.

Obviously, he saw through her attempt to evade the issue with her simple and pat comment, and he wasn't about to let her off so easily. The rogue. "You don't want to know the nitty-gritty details."

"Sure I do," he murmured huskily, and she shivered at his assertive and very insistent behavior.

The man was ruthless and shameless, and she was smart enough to know he wouldn't let the subject die until he got whatever he wanted from her. And in this case, he wanted her to spill all the provocative details of her new job.

"You promise to still respect me after I tell you the kind of fantasies I fulfilled for other men?"

He chuckled, low and deep, though the sound was oddly strained. "Of course I will."

Exhaling a slow breath, she recalled the fairly tame and normal fantasies she'd performed, because the others were too crude, perverted, and bizarre for her to repeat out loud. "I had a few straightforward calls from men who were just interested in a quick verbal exchange simulating a common sex act. A few requested blow jobs, and one caller asked me to pretend I was a virgin, which was… different, since it's been a long while since I've been one," she said wryly, and shook her head. "Some callers were downright lewd, and I used words, descriptions, and phrases that would make my parents roll over in their graves."

"I'm sure they forgive you," he said, a definite hint of humor in his voice.

She smiled, and relaxed enough to enjoy their amusing conversation. "Another caller told me that he wanted me to wear something sexy, then do a striptease for him over the phone."

"And what did you wear for him?"

"A slinky, barely-there black dress and high heels. And beneath it, black lace stockings, garters, a skimpy bra, and no panties. Isn't that every man's fantasy?"

"Personally, I prefer red on a woman, but I'm sure you made your caller very happy."

She couldn't stop the silly grin that curved her lips. "Judging by his moans and groans, I think he got his money's worth."

"Undoubtedly." His chuckle warmed her deep inside, as did their fun, playful repartee. "Did any of tonight's calls turn you on?"

His abrupt switch to a more intimate discussion startled her, but she replied without hesitation. "No," she said, and could have sworn she heard him exhale a relieved stream of breath. "I didn't know any of those men, and the exchange was mechanical, detached, and, well, very impersonal." This job and the men she talked to were a means to an end for her, a way of locating information on her cousin, nothing more.

"Then let's see if I can change that and be the one to turn you on tonight."

She suddenly felt hot and anxious with a delicious, undeniable kind of need. Oh, she knew he could accomplish the task of turning her on, far too easily. His silky bedroom voice had already aroused her, making her crave the taste and feel of his mouth on hers, and his slow, knowing hands stroking her bare skin… making her body burn and come alive for him with just a touch.

She crossed her ankles and squeezed her thighs together to try and quell the sweet ache of anticipation gathering below. What Steve was proposing didn't include any of that sensual physical contact, just words. Erotic, provocative words and naughty suggestions designed to stimulate and thrill. A fun, illicit mind game that would tantalize and tease both of them. A game she wanted to play with him, because he was ultimately the man she desired and fantasized about.

And unlike her previous callers, the idea of indulging in mental foreplay with Steve excited her.

"Tell me… what are you really wearing tonight?" he asked.

In reality, she was dressed casually, in nothing quite so daring or indecent as what she'd described to her earlier caller to fulfill his request. She debated whether to come up with another risque outfit, something red and racy to rev up Steve's libido, but decided she'd forgo any frills when it came to their first foray into phone sex. Their chemistry and attraction was potent enough without adding any extra props.

She touched her fingers to the base of her throat, where her skin was slick with a light sheen of perspiration and her pulse beat erratically. "I'm wearing a light cotton blouse and a miniskirt. I told you it was hot in here, and I've clipped up my hair so it's off my neck, but it's not helping much to keep me cool," she said, giving him a good dose of visual imagery. "The receptionist is selling small handheld water-misting fans to the employees, and she's making a damn good profit at it, too," she grumbled good-naturedly.

His lazy laughter drifted through the phone lines, the sexy vibrations of that masculine sound touching tender, secret places within her.

"I take it you bought one of those fans?" he asked.

"Yeah." Said battery powered minifan was currently sitting on the table, doing its best to create a breeze her way, albeit a warm, recycled one. "Every so often I'll spritz my face, just to keep my skin cool."

"We'll have to think of a way to put that fan to even better use." His voice was positively wicked, impenitently so, and husky with promise. "Open your blouse for me so that I can see your breasts. For real."

His bold command gave her a jolt of momentary confusion, but there was no mistaking what he was asking. He didn't want her to pretend the action, didn't want her to use just verbal description to create a mental picture for him.

He wanted the real thing.

Her heart beat an unsteady rhythm against her chest. While she had absolutely no qualms about getting into his request, actually stripping off her clothes and openly enacting his fantasy was another thing altogether. Besides, he wouldn't even be there to see and enjoy the show.

She moved her legs off the table to the floor, needing the stability of solid ground beneath her feet. "Steve-"

He cut her off before she could issue a protest, obviously hearing the uncertainty in her voice. "Has anyone come in to check on you tonight?"

"No." She glanced at the door, which had remained firmly shut during her shift. No one had so much as poked his or her head inside to see if she was still alive in the small, hot room they'd assigned her to. "They can monitor everything out on the switchboards," she told him.

"Then they aren't about to disturb you, since they can see you're busy with a caller. A very demanding caller, and one you don't want to displease." His voice was rough around the edges, just like the man himself. "And since I'm paying for this call, I damn well want to get my money's worth. Now, do as I say and unbutton your blouse."

Under normal circumstances, she would have bristled at such a forceful and dominating command, but she knew his suddenly aggressive nature was all part of the fantasy. Feeling self-conscious, she scanned the bare room for anything in the ceiling or walls that might look suspicious-like a spy camera. Finding nothing, she turned her chair so that she faced the wall opposite the door, then worked to unfasten the first five or six buttons on her blouse. As she exposed the taut swells of her breasts, her midriff, and her abdomen, the thrill of the forbidden kicked up her adrenaline a few notches. Despite her initial reservations about performing such a scandalous act in a place where she could get caught at any moment, she couldn't deny that a small, rebellious part of her welcomed Steve's dare and liked the risk she was taking-with him.

She also delighted in the way her flesh quivered where her fingers brushed against her skin as she made her way to the final button. "It's done," she said, hearing the breathless, eager quality of her own voice.

"Pull the front of your bra down so I can see your breasts."

Licking her dry lips, she did as she was told. Peeling the stretchy material down over her voluptuous curves, she released her taut, heavy breasts from the confines of her bra. Her puckered nipples immediately thrust forward, begging to be stroked and fondled. She was tempted to do just that and describe every illicit caress to Steve to enhance the fantasy, but he seemingly had his own sexual agenda in mind.

"Now pull up your skirt so I can see your panties." Once again, his voice demanded obedience.

Standing on unsteady legs, she shimmied her skirt up until the material bunched around her thighs, and her pale pink underwear was in plain sight. She sat back down, grateful that he hadn't asked her to take her panties off, though she felt just as exposed. Unable to resist the lure of Steve's fantasy and the part she was playing, she glanced down at herself, and her face heated at the brazen, wanton display of flesh that greeted her.

He'd turned her into a shameless hussy. And she loved the naughty, uninhibited woman he'd coaxed out of her.