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."