Lori Borrill - The Personal Touch

She caressed him all over with her hands…

Taking in the smooth feel of Clint’s skin, Margot wanted to touch and taste and lick and suck every sweet morsel. The simple touch wasn’t enough. Nothing seemed like enough as she tried to absorb every sensation she could.

His fingers came around the left strap of her thong and in one quick yank he snapped it off as though it were nothing. He tossed it over his shoulder and worked his way down.

“You drive me wild,” he said, before digging his teeth into the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. Then his tongue darted from between his lips and…

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Dear Reader,

After writing several books featuring deliciously dark and wounded heroes, I was aching to write a romance involving a fun and flirty playboy. Thus Clint Hilton was born. He’s rich. He’s funny. He’s gorgeous, and he’s got the world at his fingertips. Now all he needs is a nice, sensible woman to round out his good fortune. And when he hires matchmaker Margot Roth to find a date for his mother, that’s exactly what he gets.

While I enjoyed writing this fun and flirty couple, one of my favorite aspects of this book was the many secondary characters I was able to include. I have the overbearing mother, a young and irresponsible college frat boy and the lively best friend, who brings with her a culture of warm family and big hearts. Throw in a few lovelorn clients who have romance troubles of their own and you’ve got a group of people who unwittingly conspire to bring this couple together.

I hope you enjoy the book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please drop me a note at www.LoriBorrill.com and tell me what you think of it.

Happy reading!

Lori Borrill

An Oregon native, Lori Borrill moved to the Bay Area just out of high school and has been a transplanted Californian ever since. Her weekdays are spent at the insurance company where she’s been employed for more than twenty years, and she credits her writing career to the unending help and support she receives from her husband and real-life hero. When not sitting in front of a computer, she can usually be found at the Little League fields playing proud parent to their son. She’d love to hear from readers, and can be reached through her Web site at www.LoriBorrill.com.

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

308—PRIVATE CONFESSIONS

344—UNDERNEATH IT ALL *

392—PUTTING IT TO THE TEST

430—UNLEASHED

To Elle Kennedy and Tracy Wolff.

Writers need friends, and you two are the best.

To Wanda, the sweetest one

in our crazy bunch.

For Al and Tommy

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

Epilogue

WHEN THE FASHION industry’s hottest cover model flashed her signature do-me smile and stepped out of her black silk dress, Clint Hilton decided this was one sultry beauty that had definitely been worth waiting for.

If you could call three weeks a wait.

In Clint’s book of sexual conquests, it was a millennium. A week more than he’d waited for any other woman and as long as he’d gone without sex in recent memory. But ever since the two had met in Vegas last month, he’d wanted a taste of this dish. And when she’d said she was leaving for Milan that night, she’d asked him for the one thing that trumped his need for fast and frequent flings.

She’d asked him to make a promise. Wait for her to get back from her trip.

Only three tiny little weeks. Her in Italy shooting perfume ads and him in Los Angeles, cooling his cock in the Pacific Ocean while he tried to remember how he let a woman put his sex life on hold.

He couldn’t recall what had made him agree. Maybe it was the barely-there dress she’d worn that night. More likely the look in her eye that said she was worth it. But nonetheless, he’d honored his word. He had to. It was one of the few things he cherished more than having a good time.

She stepped to the edge of the pool, nothing covering that caramel skin except for the lacy red thong that topped her long, slender legs. Behind her, the view over West Hollywood nearly stretched to the ocean on this exceptionally clear night. But though he loved to relax on his terrace, tonight wouldn’t be spent gazing at the city below. Tonight was payback time. Three long weeks of celibacy ending by the graces of one tall, stunning cover model named Rachelle.

No last name. “Just Rachelle,” she’d said.

Damn, if that wasn’t sexy.

With that smoky look holding promise in her eyes, she tossed the last of her clothes, flung her hands over her head and dove into the pool. Her slender form moved fluidly through the water, inching toward him like a shark coming in for the kill. And as she neared, she stroked her hands up his legs and trailed her tongue along his shaft, breaking through the surface in a series of slippery kisses that hardened his cock and weakened his knees.

Their mouths met hot and deep, like they had back in Vegas, and he sucked in the scent of chlorine and expensive perfume. Her lips still held the essence of the Cosmopolitan she’d left on the terrace, and while her tongue did a number on his senses, she coiled her legs around his thighs and began to grind against his erection. It nearly broke him in half. He was too ready for this night. And as if to torture him more, she broke the kiss to whisper all the things she planned to do with him.

Sexy things. Naughty things. Things most women didn’t care for and a gentleman never requested. But Rachelle wasn’t looking for a gentleman tonight. She was here to prove that when it came to judging people, Clint Hilton was head of the class.

It was one of the skills he’d inherited from his father, what put him on top in his game and what had him darting through a casino full of beautiful women to that one special blonde by the bar. The one with the eyes of steam.

Clint could always spot the difference between real bedroom eyes and ones only learned for the camera. And Rachelle was the genuine article. She was the stuff wet dreams were made of, the kind of sex kitten that made suave men babble and bungling boys faint.

And tonight she was all his.

She glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “I see you’ve lit the fireplace in your bedroom. It looks cozy.”

He had. Not that April in Los Angeles was especially chilly. He’d simply gone to painstaking efforts to make sure everything was perfect tonight, starting with dinner on the beach and ending with cocktails by the pool. The lighting was timed to take over when the sun finally set. Low jazz hummed throughout the house. The tables were set with flowers and fresh citrus and the bars had been fully restocked.