Tori Carrington - A Stranger's Touch

The night Quinn had first met Dulcy, all he’d wanted was a quick roll in the hay. Then he’d discovered she was his best friend’s fiancée. Now…well, now he wanted to show her all the things Brad never could. Make her beg for him in a way that made her question her choice in men.

“I’ve always admired women who are comfortable in their own skin,” he murmured, stirring her hair with his breath. “Who feel as comfortable out of their clothes as in them.”

Her shudder seemed to ripple straight to the core of him.

“Tell me, Dulcy,” he whispered in her ear. “Would you like to be naked with me right now?”

She blinked at him, her eyes swimming with desire and confusion. Her lips parted, as if awaiting his kiss.

Quinn gave into the urge to groan. She hadn’t put her panties back on after their morning encounter in the ladies’ room. The thought of her walking around in public for the past three hours, naked under her skirt, air caressing her soft flesh, made him rock hard.

He didn’t know how he was going to pull it off, but he had to convince her that he really was the best man….

Dear Reader,

A few years ago, we had the opportunity to drive to California on the infamous Route 66. Haven’t you done it? You have to! And along the way, put aside some special time to explore New Mexico. By far, the state was the most magically romantic place we encountered along the way. Once you’re there, gaze out at the infinite rolling desert, broken only by breathtaking mesas at sunset, and tell us if you don’t see our characters, Dulcy Ferris and Quinn Landis embracing in the distance. (And be thankful you can’t see what else they’re doing….)

In A Stranger’s Touch, sexy litigation attorney Dulcy Ferris is one week away from entering a passionless marriage…until gorgeous Quinn Landis tempts her with everything she told herself she didn’t need but now urgently wants. One blazing night of passion leaves her questioning everything—including the mysterious disappearance of her fiancé, and the realization that her new lover is also the best man!

We hope you enjoy Quinn and Dulcy’s sizzling adventure. Let us know what you think. You can write to us at P.O. Box 12271, Toledo, OH 43612, or visit us on the Web at www.toricarrington.com.

Happy (and hot) reading!

Lori & Tony Karayianni

aka Tori Carrington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This one’s for the foreign publishers who make our books available to readers around the world, including, but not limited to, the warm and wonderful people at Mills & Boon and Harlequin Hellas. And for those same readers, who are more similar to us than different. You prove that romance knows no boundaries….

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

MAYBE THERE WAS SOMETHING to the saying that women reached their sexual peak in their thirties. Dulcy Ferris shakily tried to light a forbidden cigarette as she sat in the bathroom stall of Rage—the nightclub that was all the rage in Albuquerque, New Mexico, that her two best friends had brought her to. The lighter she’d had forever didn’t seem to want to produce a spark. Not that it mattered. Lately her body seemed to be sparking enough for a thousand lighters.

Finally a tiny flame. Dulcy pulled deeply on the cigarette, then sat back on the closed commode seat, resting her head against the cool ceramic tiles behind her. She’d be the first to admit that she didn’t buy into the whole biological clock scenario. That’s not why she was marrying Brad Wheeler in a week. It wasn’t the reason why at thirty she was marrying for the first time. But it did strike her as strange that lately her hormones seemed to be running on overdrive, filling her with all sorts of decadent urges she’d never even thought about before, much less entertained. Then there were all the…weird physical side effects. Her skin seemed to tingle constantly. Her nipples were eternally taut. Her inner thighs seemed to generate a heat all on their own. And the mere act of taking a shower made her eye the soap in a naughty way, igniting in her a desire to do all sorts of wicked things to her own body.

She glanced at the glowing end of the cigarette, her gaze languidly sliding over her fingers and arm. Even now a light sheen of sweat coated her skin, though the central air system of the hotel that housed the club was likely adjusted to handle the dance-generated heat. If she didn’t know better, she would think she was suffering from an early stage of menopause. But she remembered when her mother had gone through her hot flashes. No, she definitely was not experiencing that. Catherine Ferris had been a murder away from becoming a homicidal maniac during that rough two-year period and her activity level had seemed notched up to warp speed. Dulcy, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to drum up enough energy to open the jar of dill pickles that had sat unopened in her refrigerator for the past month, despite countless half-hearted attempts that left her staring at the contents as if they were some unattainable dream.

Okay, she absently admitted, so maybe her sexual relationship with Brad, or lack thereof, was partially to blame for her current condition. If only she knew what it was like—

The outer door swung inward, letting in a blast of music. Dulcy stood up and tossed the cigarette into the bowl, then waved the smoke away, hoping she didn’t set off an alarm somewhere. A quick rap vibrated the pink metal stall door. Normally she would have jumped out of her skin at such an intrusion, despite her suspicion of who it was. But now she could only sigh and open the door to stare at her friend Jena McCade.

“Can’t a girl go to the bathroom?” Dulcy asked.

“Are you smoking? You were smoking, weren’t you? My God, when did you pick up that nasty habit? People are quitting smoking now, not taking it up.” Jena wrinkled her nose, then reached into her purse.

Dulcy tried to avoid the spray of her perfume.

“Only you would steal into the john for a smoke when the place is crawling with grade A men,” Jena added.

Dulcy snapped straighter and tugged at the hem of her short black leather skirt, an impulse buy she hadn’t had the guts to wear until tonight. The fact that the place was crawling with grade A men was all the more reason for her to be in the john. The cigarette she’d bummed off the barmaid was just an excuse, the lighter in her purse an old one she’d picked up eons ago when she’d briefly dated a smoker.

The truth was that all the men in the other room only served to heighten her awareness of her heated condition. She stepped to the sink and splashed cold water over her face. Jena grimaced at her in the mirror.