"Sounds good," Cameron said.

Standing, Cameron gathered his case files, wondering what Steve would do if he knew the woman who'd given him the best kind of grief he'd had in a while was his cousin, Mia. Cameron was pretty sure he knew the answer to that. Most likely, he'd be looking for a new partner.


AS soon as Mia walked into her apartment Wednesday evening after a long day at work, she set her purse and the day's mail on the kitchen counter and then kicked off her heels. Out of habit, she glanced at the message center on the wall next to the phone and found a note from Gina stating that she was staying at Ray's for the night.

Mia tried to ignore the all-too-frequent sickening feeling in her belly that accompanied the thought of Gina being alone with Ray. Gina was an adult, Mia reasoned, and even though she worried about her roommate and the man she was currently involved with, she couldn't protect Gina if she wasn't willing to admit there was a problem in her relationship with Ray.

Retrieving a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator, Mia twisted off the cap and took a long drink to quench her thirst. Considering her own lack of a love life, which did not include her spontaneous night with Cameron, it looked like she had a quiet night of solitude ahead of her. She should have been happy about that, but she enjoyed Gina's company and had grown used to having someone else in the apartment at night, even if she was in her own room working on a stained-glass design.

Being alone was her own fault, she knew. She hadn't had a real relationship with a guy in nearly two years. But like every relationship she'd attempted before, that one had lasted a scarce three months before she'd started to feel restless and stifled and had broken things off. It was a familiar pattern that made her face the fact that she just didn't do relationships. At least not well.

Which was too bad, she thought as she made herself a chicken Caesar salad for dinner, because she'd really enjoyed being with Cameron the other night-their banter, her teasing, and the way Cameron had ultimately lost control with her. But it wasn't as though he'd asked to see her again when he'd dropped her off at her apartment. No, she'd gotten the distinct impression that she was the kind of woman he'd have a hot, illicit affair with but not a long-term relationship. It appeared that their fling was a one-time deal to finally get her out of his system-even if she did secretly wish for more.

Finished making her salad, she took the plate and her water to the kitchen counter and sorted through her mail, figuring that was about as exciting as her evening was going to get She took a bite of chicken as she separated the bills from junk mail and catalogs. At the bottom of a pile she came across a regular-size envelope addressed to her, but there was no indication of who the sender was because there wasn't a return address. The envelope was bulkier than normal, indicating there was something more than just a letter inside.

Curiosity piqued, she set her fork down on her plate and opened the envelope. She pulled out the folded piece of paper, opened it, and the contents spilled onto the counter. There was nothing written on the white stationery, and when Mia glanced down to see what had fallen out, her heart nearly stopped in her chest.

There were five photos of her, and while the pictures were grainy, there was no mistaking that all of them had been taken at The Electric Blue last Friday night. She knew this because two of the photographs were of her with Cameron. The other three showed her with one man she'd flirted with at the bar before Cameron had arrived, and two other guys who'd asked her to dance and she'd taken up on the invitation.

But it wasn't the pictures themselves that devastated and shocked her. It was what someone had written in bold red ink across each photo. Whore. Tramp. Slut.

Prickles of unease skittered down her spine when she thought of someone watching her so intently with the sole purpose of taking pictures of her. The photos might have been taken in a public place, but she still felt as though someone had invaded her privacy.

She double-checked the envelope and piece of paper but came up with nothing. There was no note or any clue as to who had sent the photos or why they felt the need to malign her with such spiteful verbiage.

There was a wealth of anger and hate behind those words, and Mia's first instinct was to take them to work with her tomorrow and drop each one through the paper shredder and pretend she'd never received the offending photographs. But her more practical side told her this could be serious. Whoever had followed her to The Electric Blue and taken those pictures had done so for a reason. And one of those reasons had been to scare her. Though she hated to admit it, even to herself, the person's tactics had worked, because the fear making her heart pound hard and fast in her chest was very real.

She'd like to believe this was a one-time thing, but what if it wasn't? If whoever had followed her to The Electric Blue was deranged enough to take pictures of her out in public and send the copies to her with slurs written all over them, what would stop them from possibly approaching her when she was alone and defenseless? She had no idea what this person was capable of, and she wasn't about to underestimate the situation. Someone needed to know what was going on, just in case something happened to her.

She thought about calling her brother Joel, who was a security specialist, and immediately dismissed the idea. Same with her cousin, Steve, even though he was a private investigator. Both could help her and possibly figure out who had sent her the photos, but she knew all too well what their involvement would cost her. Not only her privacy, but her entire life would be scrutinized and turned upside down more than it already was. And of course Joel and Steve would tell Scott and Alex what was going on, and between all of them, they'd smother her with their overly protective ways and undoubtedly drive her insane.

No, contacting her brother or cousin definitely wasn't an option. Not if she could help it. As she tucked the pictures back into the envelope, she considered her other choices, but the only other person who came to mind who could possibly be of any help to her was Cameron. If she could even convince him to help her without letting her family in on the fact that someone was stalking her. And if he'd even want to get involved with her, even on a business level, after their night together.

The only way to find out was to ask him, she supposed. And because she wasn't about to stop by his office during the day and risk Steve seeing her with him, she'd have to meet with him privately at his house. The sooner, the better. Like tonight.

So much for a quiet night alone, she thought as she headed to her bedroom to change out of her skirt and blouse and into something more comfortable. It appeared she'd just gotten more excitement than she'd bargained for.

Chapter Five

CAMERON finished up the last twenty reps on the bench press in his home gym, sat up, and reached for the towel he'd left nearby. Drenched from his hard, hour-long workout, he swiped the towel across his face and along his neck, then stood and made his way to the shower in his master bedroom. He turned on the water, stripped off his damp shirt and shorts, and stepped into the spacious glass cubicle. The cool water felt great on his heated skin, as did the hard, pulsating spray beating against his pumped-up muscles.

After being presented with the newest extramarital case that past Monday, Cameron hadn't expected to have much free time in the evenings. At least not at home. But so far, the Shelton case hadn't required any nightly surveillance because Mrs. Shelton hadn't been working any overtime this week and had gone straight home after work. She seemed to be on her best behavior, and from what Cameron could conclude, even her lunch hours had been spent running legitimate errands. Alone and on her own.

If Cameron didn't know better, he'd say Mr. Shelton was being paranoid about his wife's whereabouts and activities. Unfortunately, Cam knew that a few days without any contact with a potential boyfriend didn't mean Mrs. Shelton was in the free and clear. Most likely, the opportunity to meet up with her lover hadn't been convenient for either of them, for whatever reason. So Cam had to just sit tight and wait for the two lovers to make their move and then exploit the opportunity when it presented itself. He was very familiar with the process and just how long it could take to gather enough solid, accurate evidence to present to a client.

With his hair scrubbed clean with shampoo, he soaped up his body and thought of all the other cases he'd brought home with him to work on. Most required some kind of Internet research, and because he spent a lot of daylight hours outside the office investigating other cases, handling interviews, and tracing leads, his evenings were filled with getting caught up on paperwork and what he and Steve fondly referred to as grunt work. It was boring, monotonous work, but it had to be done. And that was a great reason for them to hire another investigator, or even an assistant who could help them do the tedious work that would free him and Steve up for other more important things.

Finished with his shower, Cameron turned off the water and stepped out of the stall just as the doorbell rang. Swearing at the visitor's timing, he quickly dried off his body and ran the towel through his wet hair as he headed back into his bedroom to put on some pants.

The doorbell pealed again, followed by a brisk knock. As quick as he could manage, Cameron pulled on a pair of Levis, sans briefs, and buttoned them up as he jogged down the stairs to the entryway. Once there, he opened the door to find the person walking away and already halfway down the sidewalk.

He wasn't expecting company, but he'd recognize the sway of those curvaceous hips anywhere, as well as that sexy, heart-shaped ass that looked as though it had been poured into a snug pair of jeans.

"Mia?" His obvious surprise reflected in his tone.

She turned around quickly, causing her shoulder-length black hair to swirl around her shoulders like a cloud of silk. "Hi," she said, her voice catching on a sweet, breathless hitch. "You're home. I rang the doorbell and knocked a couple times, but when there was no answer-"

"I was in the shower," he explained.

"Oh." She started back toward the porch. "Sorry for the interruption," she murmured, but there was nothing contrite about the way her eyes took in his wet, tousled hair and then gradually dropped to his bare chest, which was still damp from his shower.

In that brazen, unapologetic way of hers, her eyes followed the light sprinkling of hair covering his pecs, all the way down his abdomen, past his navel, to the waistband of his jeans. She licked her bottom lip, prompting him to recall how soft and warm that tongue of hers had been when she'd taken his hard cock deep inside her mouth.

His lower body stirred accordingly to that provocative thought, and he bit back the groan that automatically rose to the surface. No doubt about it, this woman was going to be the death of him, and he wondered if she'd come by for the sole purpose of torturing him with what he wanted so badly. Her. Hot and melting beneath him. Again. It was clear to him that even after sleeping with her, Mia Wilde was far from being out of his system. He was beginning to wonder if she ever would be.

She stopped in front of him, close enough to touch, tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through her hair, pull her close, and kiss her senseless. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest.

"So, what brings you by?" he asked in a lazy drawl.

Her full breasts rose and fell as she inhaled a deep breath, and something akin to distress flashed in her gaze. The brief glimpse was quickly masked by that tough facade of hers. "Something's happened, and I need your help."

He raised a brow, both intrigued and concerned by her statement. He couldn't begin to imagine what had happened for Mia to admit she needed help, let alone come to him of all people for it. But whatever had transpired, it seemed serious, and he wasn't about to turn her away without hearing what she had to say first.

"Come on in." He stood aside so she could enter the house and then shut the door after her and led the way into his kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator and grabbed himself a cold beer, thinking he could probably use something stronger to deal with Mia, but he wanted his wits about him tonight. "Would you like something to drink? I have water, soda, or beer."