Janelle Denison: Wilde Thing

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."

Ahh, Mona, the chatty albeit friendly woman from The Last Word who enjoyed prying information from her customers. "I'll have to thank her for the business." Though he'd always thought of Liz in terms of pure, unadulterated pleasure. The kind that made him wake up sweating in the dark of night, his muscles rigid and his cock granite-hard from erotic images of Liz beneath him, her body soft and inviting and just as tight as his own fist stroking his erection.

Before his libido reacted to the nightly, obsessive dreams that plagued him, he leaned his backside against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Adams?"

"Actually, it's Ms. Adams," she clarified.

He glanced at the ring she was absently twisting around her finger. Since she'd come to him and was in his territory, he figured he had every right to ask frank, personal questions. "So, you're not married?"

She shook her head, causing her silky, shoulder-length blond hair to brush along her jawline. "No, I'm single."

She didn't give an explanation for the band she wore that indicated otherwise, but he'd just learned all he needed to know to give him the incentive to pursue her on a more intimate level. With less than two feet of space separating them, there was no denying the awareness between them, and their attraction was something he had no qualms about using to get what he wanted.

And what he desired was her.

But first, he was curious to know her reasons for seeking him out. He inclined his head and prompted, "And you're here because…?"

She inhaled a deep breath, causing her breasts to rise and fall in a very beguiling way. "I'd like to inquire about your services."

Her tone was very businesslike, but he couldn't stop the slow, shameless grin her double-edged words evoked. "By all means, have a seat and let's discuss what services of mine you're interested in," he drawled, and indicated one of the tweed chairs behind her while he rounded his desk to his own leather seat.

Her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink at his subtle innuendo as she settled herself in the chair facing his desk and crossed one leg over the other. "Since you're a private investigator, I'm hoping you can help me out. My cousin, Valerie Clark, is missing."

Her statement took him momentarily off guard. While he'd been surprised that she'd shown up at his agency without an appointment, the last thing he'd expected was her soliciting his help on a professional level. Years of training, first as a beat cop, then as a PI, told him she was being completely straightforward and serious with her request, and the distress he detected in the depths of her eyes was real.

Interest of a different kind took hold, and he set aside the file he'd been reviewing and reached for his pen and pad of paper, his mind already in an investigative mode. "Why don't you tell me what you know about your cousin's disappearance, from the beginning, and we'll go from there."

He jotted down notes as she proceeded to brief him on Valerie Clark's situation, from her involvement in The Ultimate Fantasy, a phone sex business, to the new boyfriend Valerie had started seeing recently, who'd been a client. With thought-provoking questions, he drew more information from Liz and discovered her concern that The Ultimate Fantasy offered more "behind the scenes" services, which were an extension of the phone sex business, and her belief that her cousin was involved in those extracurricular activities with the man she'd been seeing on the side.

Leaning back in his chair, he rolled his pen between his fingers as his gaze took in her hopeful expression-hope that he'd agree to help find her missing cousin. "Quite honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if The Ultimate Fantasy did offer their clients more than basic lip service. These places are notorious for inviting certain clients who spend a lot of money on phone sex to private parties that offer drugs and stimulants, prostitution, and other sexual services. Sex is a big moneymaker, and a place like The Ultimate Fantasy has the employees and clients to capitalize on such a lucrative side business."