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 well-being 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.