"What does it matter what she looks like?" Caleb Edge said into the phone, hoping like hell the dark, primal lust drumming through his veins didn't bleed into his voice. He frowned absently at his control's odd question as he shifted the compact sat phone between chin and shoulder, and the binocs left an inch for a better view.

A San Francisco street and a shitload of swirling fog separated the two apartment windows. The lights over there were on. The lights here weren't.

Desire tightened his body and clogged his throat. His heart, which was normally as steady as a rock, still pounded uncomfortably sixty seconds after he'd lifted the binoculars to his eyes and taken his first look at her.

Bam! Caleb felt as though someone had punched him in the solar plexus, grabbed his heart, and squeezed. Hard.

That's what Heather Shaw looked like.

Not that he'd share his physical reaction with his control, Lark Orela. She was like a frigging dog with a bone if she thought her people weren't focused. Unfortunately he was plenty focused.

"Earth to Edge?"

"She looks…I don't know." Classy. Beautiful. "Deluxe, expensive," he told Lark smoothly. His heart was racing, he assured himself, because his goddamned knee hurt like hell. He leaned a little more of his weight on the shoulder he had propped against the wall.

Heather had pushed the sleeves of the soft-looking purple sweater up her creamy forearms while she worked on something at the table. The fabric draped over her tall slender body as if it had been custom-made. Probably had. Heather Shaw had more money than many third-world countries.

"Interesting location for her to hide out," Caleb dragged his gaze from the gentle swell of Miss Shaw's breasts back to the top of her head. Look up again, honey, let's see those gorgeous eyes again. "How long's she been there?" Were her eyes green? Brown? Hard to tell from this distance.

"About six months," Lark told him. "Why?"

Reluctantly Caleb shifted the binocs. "Place's pretty stark. Chair. Bed. Table. Nothing personal that I can see."

"She's been moving around."

"Yeah." And not easy to track down, according to Lark. Finding Heather's father first would've expedited this op, and made it a lot more interesting, Caleb thought. Unfortunately, Brian Shaw had been missing for the better part of a year. Not surprisingly, he'd completely obliterated his trail, so he was a little freaking hard to find at the moment.

Which left his delectable daughter to the wolves.

Caleb figured he'd been in physical rehab for too damn long if just looking at the tango's daughter gave him a hard-on.

Long, elegant bones. Pale slender fingers. Silky-looking hair that would feel like sunlight on his skin. He'd begged Lark to send him on a mission. Anywhere. Any damn thing to escape the hospital. This had been the best Lark claimed she could come up with at short notice.

Bullshit. Fact was: She didn't think he was ready to go back into the field.

This wasn't an op. A simple question needed answering. Hell, someone could call it in.