LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER TEN

      Wet and Out of Breath

      CAMERON SAW THE DESIRE beneath her anger and knew he had only to reach for her. If he drew his fingers along the slick-wet surface of her skin she would heat to his touch. He smiled. In half a moment he’d have her in his arms and out of that bit of a bikini. Stella knew it as well.

      Which was precisely why he kept his hands at his sides. They’d come together so damned fast before, and though the red-hot impulses were obviously still present, he intended to proceed with caution this time.

      “I asked what you’re doing here.” She swept past him, snatching up a towel from a pile on one of the chairs.

      “You called me. I came.”

      Stella sent him an odd look, a brief furrowing of her brow, then her mouth thinned in disbelief. “So, that’s how it works. Wish I’d known sooner.”

      “From now on—”

      “I left a message, Stone, not an invitation.” She turned her back to him and picked up the water bottle from the table.

      “You left part of a message.” He tipped his head, correcting her. “I’ll need the rest of it, since we’re going to work together.”

      “I never said I’d partner with you.” She set the water down with a bang.

      “I don’t recall hearing you refuse, either.”

      Her nostrils flared in a way that shouldn’t have been sexy, but was. She glared at him in silence. He could almost hear the synapses firing as she struggled between accepting his offer and throwing him out on his arse. He knew his backside was safe when she rolled her shoulders in a kind of shrug.

      “Wait here while I change.”

      “Don’t bother on my account. I rather prefer you wet and out of breath.”

      He only just managed to keep a grin from his face as spots of color appeared on her cheeks. When he dropped his gaze, he noticed the very feminine, pale pink lacquer on her toes. He looked up to see Stella glaring at him, daring him to comment. She stalked toward him and he quite wisely stepped aside. The French door slammed behind her, rattling the glass.

      Cameron bent over to rub the ache in his right knee. Hurtling the low brick wall into her back garden had set it to throbbing. Straightening, he helped himself to her water and glanced at the door. It would be much more pleasant inside. He stepped through to the living room.

      Only it didn’t look as if she did much living in it. There was a single ratty armchair with a wee folding table beside it, near the fireplace. A few cheap bookcases filled with videos and DVDs stood next to a large-screen plasma telly that sat directly on the floor.

      He took the four stairs past a decorative rail to the next level. Peering about, Cameron noted that while the open kitchen boasted professional-looking cookware hanging from a copper rack and an impressive display of food-prep gadgets on the counters, there was no table in the dining area.

      Eating alone, was she? Or simply eating elsewhere?

      As he set the empty water bottle on the counter, he frowned at the butcher’s block. It held an expensive-looking chef’s knife set. He lifted one from its slot, hefting the weight of the professional carbon steel blade, then slid it back in place. All of the slots along the bottom row were empty. Odd, that.

      He wandered into the bare foyer, listening for Stella, then moved along the hallway. The first room on the right was her bedroom, had to be. A queen-size mattress stood against one white wall with a plain wooden night table at the left-hand side; a single dresser sat near the closet. A quick glance into the lav revealed a lone toothbrush in the holder.

      It would appear she slept alone as well. Cameron smiled briefly. Even as he acknowledged a sense of relief, he recognized that Stella’s life seemed to be as empty as his own. All the more reason they should give their relationship a try.

      He moved toward the armoire, his curiosity piqued by the glass orbs and picture frames arranged on top. They were the only personal touches he’d seen in the house so far.

      A black-and-white photo showed an attractive couple— must be her mum and dad—standing at a bar with Frank Sinatra. The second picture was of Stella with two other girls, a redhead and a brunette, on a beach somewhere. The third showed her standing in front of her office beside a brassy looking older woman, however the sign read Diamond Detective Agency.

      The last photograph intrigued him enough that he picked it up for a closer look.

      Stella posed up front, clutching an American football, with her three brothers standing round her. She looked quite disheveled, young and carefree and grinning like mad. The younger two lads looked annoyed and mischievous while the oldest’s eyes were focused on something other than the camera. His halfhearted smile failed to mask the aggressive intensity of his gaze. The photo must have been taken before.

      “Give me that.”

      Stella reached for the photo and tore it from his grasp. Her attitude up ‘til now had been prickly. At the moment she seemed genuinely furious…or was she merely defensive? As she set it back on the armoire, he caught a flash of sadness in her eyes before she turned on him.

      “You don’t follow directions worth a damn.”

      “Never

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