The Wilde Side (15 page)

By the time he finally succeeded in squeezing past a thoroughly flustered and confused Liz and made it to the front door, Ashley was already backing her BMW out of her parking spot in front of the café. With a sharp turn of the steering wheel, she shot out onto the main street and merged into morning traffic.

But not before he memorized her license plate number.

As he watched her drive away, Scott jammed his fingers through his hair and swore once again. What was it about this woman that continually tied him up in knots inside and made him act like a fool when it came to her? The attraction and chemistry between them was one thing, but he knew that it was also the air of mystery surrounding her that upped the intrigue and kept her constantly in his thoughts – even when he didn't want her there.

Uptight and agitated, he stalked back inside the café and made his way to the front counter, where Liz stood with an astonished expression on her face and Ashley's drink in hand.

"Well, that was certainly interesting," she said, trying to lighten what had been a strained and tense scene between him and Ashley.

"Do you know who she is?" Scott asked, hoping that Liz could help give him a few pieces of the complex puzzle that was Ashley.

"She's a regular customer at The Daily Grind." Liz set the cup on the counter, still frowning over what had just transpired. "Her name is Ashley."

Scott drew a long, deep breath in an attempt to calm his inner turmoil and regain his composure. "Do you know her last name?"

"No." Liz shook her head with regret. "I'm sorry, Scott. I'm usually only on a first-name basis with most of my customers."

His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, a surge of frustration nearly overwhelming him in a dozen different ways. "Dammit, I need to find out who she is," he muttered, knowing he wouldn't have any peace in his life until he exposed the truth about Ashley and what she was hiding from him.

Luckily for Scott, he was related to one of the best private investigators in town, a professional who had the kind of skills and connections it took to unearth a person's identity and details of their private life.

"Is something going on between the two of you?" Liz asked curiously, bringing his attention back to her.

He fastened his tape measure to his belt and reached for his clipboard. "Yeah, you could say that."

"And you don't know her last name?" Liz's eyes were wide, and her tone incredulous.

Scott almost laughed, but he just wasn't in a humorous mood. "It's a long story." And it was one he didn't want to rehash with Liz.

She nodded, accepting his ambiguous comment for the subtle avoidance it was meant to be. "I understand." Grabbing a damp rag, she started wiping down the stainless steel counter behind them, though that didn't stop her from casting a few speculative glances his way.

He waited, suspecting it was only a matter of minutes before she spoke what was on her mind.

"You know," Liz began casually as she refilled the coffee bean container. "I don't want to butt into your business, but Steve might be able to help you find out whatever you need to know about Ashley."

He could tell she was trying to be supportive and caring, and for that he gave her a warm, appreciative smile – even though he was already one step ahead of her on that thought process. "Thanks for the suggestion. I memorized her license plate number, and that ought to get me at least her last name and address."

After a few last measurements, Scott wrapped things up at the café and headed toward Steve's office, determined to put an end to Ashley's anonymity and secrets.

Even if he didn't like what he eventually discovered.

Chapter 9

S
itting in front of his cousin Steve's desk, Scott handed him a piece of paper with the description of the car Ashley drove, along with the license plate number he'd memorized that morning at the café. It was the only solid connection he had to Ashley and her identity, and now the process of acquiring details of her life was about to be put into his cousin's capable hands.

Steve clipped the note on to a file folder, then leaned back in his chair and eyed Scott inquisitively. "So, are you interested in just routine information on this woman, or do you want me to dig deep, beyond the basic facts that come up?"

Scott was tempted to ask for the works, to have Steve unearth whatever he could on Ashley, from the trivial to anything substantial – from her past to the present. But this investigation wasn't about completely invading her privacy. All he wanted was the normal kind of personal information that she should have offered him on her own.

"I'd like to find out her last name, her address, and where she works," he told Steve. "If there's anything of interest beyond the standard information that you might discover along the way, then go ahead and include it in the report."

"Will do." Steve made a quick notation of his request in the file, then glanced back up at Scott, his gaze curious. "Do you mind if I ask how you know this woman and what brought on this need to find out who she is?"

Scott scrubbed a hand along his jaw and sighed. Where he'd held back with Steve's wife, Liz, when she'd inquired about his relationship with Ashley, he now took advantage of the male comradery he shared with his cousin to divulge the particulars of the affair.

"I met Ashley at Nick's Sports Bar about a week and a half ago, and what started out as a one-night stand ended up becoming more serious than I expected."

Despite Ashley's attempt to keep things between them superficial, he honestly believed that she felt more for him than she'd allowed herself to reveal. Out of anger, he might have accused her of using him for sex, but he'd seen glimpses of emotion in her eyes, a profound longing that told a different story – that she was afraid of trusting in him or even herself. It was the question of
why
that he didn't have an answer for.

He was hoping that Steve could fill in those blanks for him.

Scott went on to explain Ashley's elusiveness, how she'd withheld her last name from the moment he'd met her, and then his final ultimatum just a few nights ago that had ended their short-lived relationship. But he never could have anticipated seeing her again, or the strong need to finally make sense of her behavior. Now, armed with the means to learn more about Just Ashley, he couldn't resist the overpowering urge to do just that.

"I can't even get a decent night's sleep without thinking about her," Scott said in disgust. "It's like I'm obsessed about finding out who she is and why she can't give me anything more than her first name."

"I can't say I blame you. I'd probably feel the same way." Steve tapped the eraser end of his pencil against the surface of his desk, his expression thoughtful. "Do you think she's married?"

Scott shifted restlessly in his chair; the question still managed to make him feel uneasy because of his own past experience. She'd told him she wasn't married or involved, and at the time he'd believed her. He still did, deep in his gut. But it still remained a likelihood, and he knew he'd be an outright idiot to completely discount the possibility.

He told Steve about that conversation with Ashley. "The thought crossed my mind, and I outright asked her if she was involved with anyone else, but she said no."

Steve didn't bother to contain his skepticism, which Scott supposed was a hazard of being a private detective – thinking the worst until you uncovered hard evidence to the contrary.

"Is that something you want verified?" Steve asked.

Scott replied without hesitating. "Yes."

"Okay." With a nod, Steve jotted down something in Scott's file, then glanced up again. "With this woman's license plate number we'll be able to trace her identity and address fairly easily. Since the rest of this case consists of a basic background check that should take no more than a day or two to complete, would you mind if I put Cameron on the job? I'm right in the middle of a messy divorce case which includes a lot of surveillance outside of the office, and Cameron is between assignments and has time to squeeze something like this into his schedule."

Steve's longtime friend and business partner was like a member of the family and someone Scott trusted implicitly. "Cameron would be fine."

"Great. He's out of the office for the next few hours, but as soon as he returns I'll give him the details of your case and have him get started on it immediately. As soon as he has something substantial to report, he'll get back to you."

"That's perfect." Scott stood and shook his cousin's hand, grateful for family connections. "Thanks for everything, Steve."

"Anytime." Steve walked him to the front door, their conversation turning to Liz and how she was fairing at the café. Steve's worry for his wife's condition was obvious, and he seemed just as anxious as Liz was to have the baby.

After reassuring Steve that other than a few normal aches and pains his wife was doing just fine, Scott slid into the driver's side of his truck and headed back to Nolan and Sons. As he immersed himself in upcoming estimates and bids, he hoped that once he had the information on Ashley that he sought, the mystery and intrigue surrounding her would finally dissipate, and he could get on with his life and leave all thoughts of her behind.

Even as he told himself this, a part of him wondered if he'd ever be able to truly forget her.

*

Cameron Sinclair strolled into the offices of Nolan and Sons and came to an abrupt stop, the investigative business he'd come to relay to Scott unexpectedly turning into a moment of pure pleasure, a beguiling diversion that would be only temporary, he knew – all a matter of
her
opening her mouth and speaking and shattering his fantasy – so he planned to enjoy the provocative view while it lasted.

His biggest temptation and greatest nemesis stood behind the front desk in the reception area, her back to him as she riffled through a tall filing cabinet. Mia Wilde, also known to him and others as the wild child of the Wilde family. Being the only female in a brood of three older brothers and three male cousins, she'd learned to wield her feminine wiles early on – and she teased and manipulated the opposite sex to her whim exceptionally well.

Though he'd always seen right through her coquettish ploy, he wasn't immune to her potent sensuality – not that he'd ever admit to his attraction to her. That wasn't going to happen – ever. To do so would give her way too much leverage over him, and he had no doubt that she'd use that bit of information to her full advantage and torment him more than she already did.

Mia closed the top drawer to the filing cabinet and opened the third one down. Bending at the waist, she began searching through the contents, her long, slender fingers skimming along the files quickly, but with a grace and expertise that made Cameron imagine the way those soft, adept hands of hers would feel stroking and caressing along his hard, aroused body.

She shifted on her three-inch heels, causing her curvaceous hips to sway to one side, drawing his gaze to the short, brown suede skirt she was wearing and how it molded to her firm ass. The hem ended midthigh, exposing a good amount of bare, supple skin that looked smooth and silky to the touch – all the way down to slim ankles. She was petite yet voluptuous in all the right places, the kind of woman with a soft, luscious figure a man could spend hours worshipping.

If
she even allowed a man to have the upper hand in the bedroom at all.

Over the years of knowing Mia, and being in the profession of studying people and their habits, it had become increasingly obvious to Cameron that Mia liked to be in control – of herself and the male gender that seemed to flock to her flirtatious nature and come-hither behavior. She openly flaunted her sensuality, and he was coming to suspect that focusing on the physical aspect of an attraction was like a disguise for her, a clever way of keeping men at an emotional distance.

Him especially.

Out of respect for her brothers, he'd kept his distance from Mia whenever possible, always managing to fend off her taunting comments and too suggestive displays designed to capture his attention – which she always did. He swore she was too wild for him, too mouthy and too overtly sexual when he liked his women sweet and undemanding. But damn, she'd fueled some of his most erotic dreams.

Finished with her task, Mia straightened and turned around, then stilled when she saw him standing there. His gaze shamelessly slid to the front of her low-cut blouse that crisscrossed over the full swells of her breasts and offered up a generous amount of cleavage. Lust flowed hot and thick through his veins and settled uncomfortably in his groin – a too predictable reaction whenever he was near Mia.

She propped her hands on her waist, which caused her blouse to stretch tighter across her chest. Her nipples peaked against the fabric, and he experienced a devilish kind of satisfaction at witnessing her instantaneous response to him.

"Enjoying the view, sugar?" she asked in that low, seductive voice of hers that always seemed to sound as though she was issuing him a direct challenge.

Which, of course, she was.

With deliberate slowness, he lifted his gaze from her mouth-watering breasts to her lovely face. "The view's not bad," he drawled lazily, giving nothing away – not his desire for her and certainly not the way she so easily got under his skin.

She gave a sassy toss of her head, and her shoulder-length black hair swirled around her face like a cloud of silk. Her dark lashes fell half-mast over her smokey silver eyes, and a vixenish grin curved the corner of her exceptionally lush mouth. "It's better than 'not bad,' and you know it, even if you won't admit it out loud."

God, she was too much – too sexy, too brazen, and too damn daring – and he feared that one of these days she was going to push him too far and shatter his control when it came to her.

When that happened, all hell was bound to break loose between them.

He feigned an indifferent shrug and extended a token reply designed to provoke her in return. "I'll admit that what I can see looks real nice, but there's no telling how much is push-up and padding."

A delicate brow rose at his speculative remark, and she came around the desk, hips undulating and breasts gently bouncing with every step she took to close the distance separating them. Then she stopped less than a foot away and pulled her shoulders back so her nipples nearly grazed his chest.

Because of his height she had to tilt her head back to look up at him – and he glanced straight down, his gaze sliding right into the deep vee formed between two voluptuous mounds of flesh that were, indisputably, as natural and authentic looking as the real thing.

She brushed the tips of her fingers over the top swells of her breasts in a casual caress that did crazy things to his libido – as she no doubt intended. "They're one hundred percent all mine," she said huskily. "And if you want the opportunity to verify that for yourself all you have to do is ask real nice, and I just might let you."

Maintaining an unaffected facade and refusing her enticing invitation to feel her up was an incredibly difficult feat. "I'll pass."

Reaching out, she grazed a finger along his chest, then drew lazy patterns with her fingers, searing him with heat and need. "You have no idea what you're missing out on."

He inhaled deeply – a big mistake he realized too late. His nostrils flared as the warm, female scent of her seduced his senses. "I can't miss what I don't have, sweetheart."

Christ, what an outright lie that was! He coveted what he didn't have ... hungered for a taste of what she was offering ... longed to touch her in all those soft, feminine places that would make her sigh and moan for more.

She laughed and slanted him a smoldering glance tempered with amusement. "Oh, but you want it, sugar. You want it real bad."

Almost bad enough to say
fuck it
, and just surrender to the incendiary chemistry between them, consequences be damned. Shit, he had to end this madness before he caved in to the strong impulse to back her up against the desk, shove her skirt up to her hips, and prove just how right she was about him wanting her.

Grasping her wrist, he pulled away the splayed hand that was gradually drifting its way lower, from his chest, to his torso, to the waistband of his khakis. "What I want," he began, surprising himself with the even, level tone of his voice, despite how hot and aroused she'd made him, "is to talk to your brother, Scott. I'm here strictly on business." He held up the folder in his hand, which contained the report Scott had requested.

Her lips pursed into a sultry pout. "And you're one of those stuffy types that doesn't mix business with pleasure, aren't you?"

She was goading him, and he refused to take the bait. "Sweetheart, I just refuse to get involved with you – business, pleasure, or otherwise."

She batted her long lashes at him. "Ahh, I guess I'm just too much for you to handle."

And then some
. "You're probably right about that," he conceded, then leaned in close, so that his mouth skimmed the fragrant hair at the side of her head and his voice was a raspy whisper in her ear. "Besides, I like being on top sometimes."