Too Wilde to Tame (9 page)

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

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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."

She shook her head. "Nothing for me, thanks."

Twisting the cap off the bottle, he tossed the metal disc into the trash and took a seat on one of the kitchen counter bar stools across from where she was standing. Distance was the key with this woman, he decided, because any kind of close proximity was dangerous as hell to his libido. Except the counter cut off his view of her at the waist, drawing his attention to her low-cut, snug-fitting, lace-trimmed camisole top and the way the soft pink cotton material molded to her voluptuous breasts.

Oh, hell.

Forcing his mind to concentrate on the situation at hand and not on Mia's very luscious body, he guzzled a long drink of his beer as he lifted his gaze back up where it belonged and took in her expression. He could immediately tell by the crease of her brows that she was upset about something, even though she was trying hard not to let it show.

It was such a novelty to him to see yet another side to her persona, to realize that Mia was a woman with real feelings and emotions, and even had a few chinks in that headstrong personality of hers. He wondered what really lurked beneath all that bravado of hers and then decided he was probably better off not knowing.

"So what's up?" he asked, turning the conversation toward business and the reason for her impromptu visit.

She met his gaze, not as the sultry seductress he'd come to know, but as a woman seriously in need of help. "I received something very disturbing in the mail today."

That immediately piqued his interest as well as his P.I. instincts. "What, exactly, did you receive?"

"Pictures. Of me. They were taken last Friday night at The Electric Blue," she explained calmly. "But it's not the pictures that bother me so much as what someone wrote on them."

Cameron was more curious than ever. "Do you have the pictures with you?"

She nodded. "I figured you'd want to see them, so I brought everything for you to look at." Opening her purse, she pulled out an envelope and then handed it to him from across the countertop.

Setting his beer aside, he checked out the envelope, front and back. He noticed that Mia's name and address had been typed out and there was no return address, though the postmark indicated the envelope had been mailed from Chicago. He withdrew the contents, unfolded the plain piece of paper, and checked out the enclosed photos and the offensive slurs someone had written across each one.

On one hand, he was stunned by the degradation behind the pictures and insulting words. On the other, he'd always known Mia's reckless behavior had the potential of courting this kind of trouble. But that didn't mean she deserved to be the target of such a sick and deranged joke.

"Not very flattering, is it?" she asked, striving for a humorous approach to the pictures that showed her wilder side with four different men—him included.

She was trying to be light and breezy about the photographs someone had taken of her without her knowledge, but there was nothing remotely amusing about her predicament. Someone obviously had some kind of grudge against Mia, and they were intent on exploiting and scaring her.

He arranged the pictures on the counter so he could compare each one and met her gaze. "Do you have any idea who might do something like this?"

A wry grin canted the corner of her mouth. "If I did, I wouldn't be here."

"Good point," he murmured. Mia never would have dropped by his house to see him on a personal, intimate level. No, their very brief affair was done and over with, and other than a business-related issue, there was no real reason for them to spend time together.

"I have no idea who sent the pictures, or why," she went on, her tone frustrated as she waved a hand toward the photos. "There wasn't a note in the envelope, or anything else to indicate what the person wanted."

He rubbed his hand along his unshaven jaw as he studied the prints again. The images weren't crisp and clear, indicating that they'd either been taken with a camera phone, a disposable camera, or by an amateur. "Well, they don't appear to be professional shots."