no choice, because he suspected he only had a handful of days left with her, in which to sway her to his way of thinking. She was more than a temporary lover to him, and he wanted her in his life. Permanently.
Because he loved her.
His heart pounded hard and fast, an adrenaline rush that swept through him as he finally put words to the emotions tumbling around in his chest. He didn't fight the sentiment, didn't deny its existence. Instead, he allowed it to flow through him, and let himself get used to the feeling of knowing that this one special woman complemented him so perfectly, in ways that made him feel whole and complete, physically and emotionally.
He kept his revelation to himself for the time being, because he suspected that if she knew the depth of his feelings for her, she'd panic and withdraw from him more than she already had this morning. And that wasn't a chance he was willing to take with her and their relationship just yet.
'You don't ever have to hesitate to ask me something,' he said, filling the silence that had stretched too far and long between them. 'If it's a question I can answer, I will.'
With that, he crossed the kitchen to the pantry, determined to resume a casual morning routine with her, even though nothing would ever be the same for him as far as Liz was concerned.
He rummaged through the meager contents lining his cupboards and was able to scrounge up a few things to eat. 'Looks like you have a choice of Captain Crunch cereal or strawberry Pop-Tarts.'
'Breakfasts of champions, huh?' She grinned, her features relaxing once again, which relieved him as well. 'Are the Pop-Tarts the frosted kind?'
He heard the hopeful note to her voice and chuckled. It appeared she was a woman after his own heart, in more ways than one. 'Yep, sugar-coated for an extra morning kick to go with your caffeine.'
She sat down and placed both of their mugs of coffee on the table. 'Perfect. I'll take one.'
'Good choice, especially since I'm out of milk and you'd have to eat the cereal dry,' he added wryly, and set the box within her reach.
She laughed, the sound genuinely lighthearted. Snagging a cellophane wrapper sealing a pair of Pop-Tarts, she ripped it open. 'You weren't kidding about hating to shop, were you?'
'Nope.' He took the chair next to her and grabbed a pack for himself. 'I don't like to cook, either.'
She broke off a bite of the strawberry-injected pastry and popped it into her mouth. 'Ahh, a true bachelor.'
He shrugged. 'Fast food works for me just fine, a carryover from my days as a cop, when I worked the swing shift and wasn't home for dinner. And my dad wasn't kidding the other night when he said that my mom is always making up CARE packages of food for us boys. All in all, I eat pretty well.' He took a big bite of his Pop-Tart, swallowed, and said, 'If you'd like something more nutritious, I've got leftover ribs and chicken from my father's party if you'd like to have that for breakfast.'
She wrinkled her nose at him. 'No, thanks. I'll stick with the Pop-Tart.'
They continued to eat their breakfast, and she cast him a sidelong glance that lingered on the tattoo encircling his arm. It was obvious to him that something was on her mind, and he waited patiently for her to decide whether she wanted to ask the question glimmering in her eyes.
She picked at her second Pop-Tart, and when he met her gaze, she drew a deep breath. 'So, I can ask you anything I want, huh?' she asked, taking him up on his earlier comment.
Her tone held a teasing lilt, but his instincts told him her attempt at levity was a cover-up for something far more significant. 'Sure. What's on your mind?'
'There's something I've been curious about.' She reached out and traced the tribal band encircling his arm. 'There's the name Steffie inscripted into your tattoo. Is it your ex-wife's?'
Like many other women who'd asked before her, he almost instinctively evaded the too personal question. But he'd promised Liz that she could ask him anything, and more important, he was ready to let her into that private part of his life-knew it was a huge step in their developing relationship. She knew little about his past, his marriage, and his daughter, and he wanted her to understand who he was really was, beyond the PI she'd hired and the man she shared her fantasies with.
Besides, whatever was happening between them demanded total honesty and complete openness, and he was willing to do his share. 'Steffie is my sixteen-year-old daughter, Stephanie.'
Liz's soft green eyes widened with astonishment. 'Wow, you don't look old enough to have a sixteen-year-old child. I mean, you'd briefly mentioned that you had a daughter, but I thought maybe she was ten years old, tops.'
'Thanks for the compliment, but I'm thirty-six, and some days I feel twice as old,' he joked.
He watched her mentally do the math in her head as she ate another bite of her breakfast. 'Which means you were nineteen when she was born.'
He nodded and finished off his coffee. 'That's right.'
She brushed the pastry crumbs from her fingers, apparently speculating upon that revelation. 'So, did you go out and get the tattoo when she was born?'
'No. I decided to get the tribal band after my divorce was finalized. It was one of those spontaneous, rebellious acts I've surprisingly never regretted. As for Steffie's name, at the time I figured she'd be the only woman to forever hold my heart, and I'd never have to worry about having her name erased from the design.'
Liz's eyes danced with laughter and something more sentimental. 'That's incredibly sweet. She's lucky to have a father like you.'
'She's a joy, and I love her very much.' Leaning back in his chair, he absently ran his finger around the rim of his empty coffee mug. 'Unfortunately, I don't get to see her as often as I'd like, since she lives in Texas with her mother, Janet, and stepfather, Hugh.'
She tipped her head and tucked the honey-blond strands of hair that brushed across her cheek behind her ear. 'That has to be difficult for you.'
'It is. And my parents miss her, too, since she's their only grandchild. But I take whatever I can get with her, whether it's a month in the summer, a week here or there, or even a card in the mail.' He smiled, as he always did when it came to his daughter. 'She loves to E-mail, so I'm always getting chatty letters from her that keep me fairly up to date on what's going on in her life.'
He recalled the latest E-mail he'd received from her, and the pictures he'd printed out on photo paper to add to his collection. He stood, took both of their cups to the sink, and took their sharing one step further.
'Come with me. I want to show you something.' He gestured for Liz to follow him out of the kitchen.
He led the way into the living room, to the open oak bookcase against the wall, filled with music CDs, movie tapes, and a slew of photographs. He picked up a framed print of Steffie wearing a softball uniform, at the age of eight, with a gap-toothed smile, and showed it to Liz. 'This is my little girl, who isn't so little anymore. When this picture was taken, she was going through a tomboy stage.'
'She's adorable,' Liz said, and glanced up at him, her gaze traveling over his features. 'She has your deep-blue eyes and smile.'
'Yeah, she does,' he said proudly.
He showed her the rest of the photographs, which ranged from toddler to teenager and the varying stages in between. There were snapshots with him, his parents, and Janet with her new husband, Hugh, at Steffie's eighth- grade graduation ceremony. And then there were the most recent prom pictures his daughter had sent to him.
He showed that one to Liz, as well. 'She just E-mailed me this photo, and it nearly killed me to see her all grown up like that.'
'She's grown into a beautiful young woman, and her date seems very taken by her.'
He frowned. 'Yeah, don't think I didn't notice that.'
Liz raised a brow, a humorous smile quirking the corner of her mouth. 'Are you worried about what's going on in that boy's head where your daughter is concerned?'
'Hell, I
She studied another picture, with Janet and Steffie together. 'High school sweethearts?' she guessed.
'Yeah. And two years later, fresh out of high school, she got pregnant, and we got married.' He grinned wryly. 'And yes, before you ask, we were using birth control. Would you believe we were one of the statistical one percent the Pill failed with?'
