Michelle Rowen - Touch and Go

“Michelle Rowen’s stories are always sassy and exhilarating. This tale of an ‘unwanted’ love will have readers begging for more…. This is a romance that will last for all of eternity…literally and on the pages. The author takes us to new heights as readers. The scenes are very epic and thrilling.”

—Fresh Fiction

“I couldn’t put this book down and stayed up late reading it because I couldn’t wait to see what would happen next…. (A) sexy, romantic and a fun light read that I highly recommend to romance readers.”

—Enchanted by Books

“I loved this story from the very beginning… I would definitely recommend this book to other readers.”

—Night Owl Romance

“Enjoyable paranormal…interesting plot and sensual scenes.”

—RT Book Reviews

Dear Reader,

The idea for Touch and Go came from an image in my head of a woman whose inner storm manifests itself in the real world. This would only be a metaphor in a contemporary book, but when dealing with psychic characters, heck, I can make it a real storm!

So my heroine Carrie was born, a woman who desperately wants to control her erratic psychic powers. She works for a paranormal investigation agency with the one man she believes can help teach her control. However, her growing attraction to him is difficult to hide when every time he triggers her desire it turns into in an accident—broken glass, moving furniture…a tropical storm, perhaps?

Patrick McKay, who also appeared in my previous Harlequin Blaze title, Hot Spell, takes the stage as the hero in this book and he’s definitely a great match for Carrie. He has a few tempests of his own to deal with that he keeps hidden from his sexy and inquisitive new partner. At least, he tries his best.

All of this is set in the Bahamas because…where better for a little uncertain weather and a whole lot of blazing heat than there?

Happy reading!

Michelle Rowen

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National bestselling author Michelle Rowen writes all sorts of paranormal romance—light and dark, sexy and sweet, and has won an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice award and a Holt Medallion for her work. A voracious but picky reader, TV viewer and movie watcher, she prefers all her entertainment to include a happily ever after…or else! Michelle lives in southern Ontario and is the 2010 president of Toronto Romance Writers.

To the Toronto Romance Writers

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Two years ago

SHE’D NEVER BELIEVED in love at first sight. Lust was another matter. Her current object of lust was about six-two, with dark blond hair, broad shoulders, a navy blue suit and a killer smile.

And he was walking right toward her.

He approached her table at a small bistro called Amelia’s. It was one of her favorite restaurants and as good a place as any for an interview such as this.

“Carrie Stanfield?” the man asked, smiling in a way that made her knees go weak. Luckily she was sitting down. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Patrick McKay.”

His voice was the same as over the phone—deep and mellow, with an edge of friendly amusement to it. She’d liked his voice the two times they’d spoken about setting up this meeting. She had no idea that the rest of him could possibly compete with it. In fact, she’d been expecting an old, short guy with a bald spot and thick glasses.

She composed herself quickly and held out her hand. “It’s great to meet you in person, Patrick.”

“You, too.” His skin was warm as his fingers curled around hers. His eyes were a vivid emerald green. The color reminded her of the ocean—clear, invigorating, bottomless.

She was not usually this distracted by a hot-looking guy, especially one she had to interview. She’d been sent here to write an article for the Mystic Medallion—the magazine she hoped was just a stepping-stone to the New Yorker or The New York Times. A tiny stepping-stone.

Patrick McKay was the branch manager of a local business in Mystic Ridge, New York, called the Paranormal Assessment and Recovery Agency. They investigated supernatural phenomena, and every agent who worked there was allegedly psychic.

Carrie didn’t believe in psychics or paranormal phenomena. But she believed in a good story when she heard it.

“You don’t believe in psychics,” Patrick said. He was still holding her hand.

Her eyes snapped to his handsome face. “Pardon me?”

“Do you think being a skeptic is going to negatively color your story about me?”

She felt as if she’d been cornered, but he was still looking at her with friendly curiosity in his clear green eyes. He had yet to let go of her hand, though. And she had yet to pull away.

“I—uh, how did you know that?”

He placed his other hand on top of hers. The warmth of his touch slid up her arm. “I’m empathic.”

She blinked. “That’s the type of psychic that can read other people’s emotions.”

“You’ve done some homework.” He finally released her and she had to say she was sorry about that. “You take your job very seriously.”

Carrie gave a nervous laugh. “I try. So, what else did you sense from me? That’s what this is, right? You’re trying to give me a psychic reading now to break the ice?”

His smile widened. “But you didn’t call my 1-800 number. And I don’t have your Visa card on file.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “Funny guy.”

“I try.”

The waiter came over to the table, but Patrick asked him to give them a few minutes. There were no other customers. It was midafternoon, between the lunch and dinner crowds. The bistro felt like a private dining room for just the two of them—much more intimate than she’d anticipated.

Patrick studied her, his gaze moving over her face to her throat and down to the neckline of her white blouse, which she’d unbuttoned at the top. He politely didn’t go farther, but returned his attention to her face. “I read that you’re curious, you’re practical, and you like to be in control at all times. I read that you’re a skeptic, that you don’t believe in PARA being a legitimate business and that you’re just doing this article so you can flesh out your résumé and get a better job elsewhere, preferably far away from this dull little town.”

She felt the color draining from her face with every word he spoke. Maybe he was the real deal after all. “That sounds pretty specific for an empathic reading. Aren’t you just supposed to read emotions?”