To Alaska, With Love: A Touch of Silk. Lori Wilde
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A Touch of Silk
Manhattan columnist Kay Freemont has made a career out of writing about sex and relationships, yet spends her nights alone. So when sexy Alaskan bachelor Quinn Scofield places an ad in her magazine to find a wife, Kay can’t resist the opportunity to finally see what all the hype is about. Though city girl Kay was only looking for a red-hot fling, she’s beginning to feel right at home, both in the small town of Bear Creek—and in Quinn’s loving arms.
A Thrill to Remember
Meggie Scofield is ready to rejoin the dating scene after her divorce, and the town’s masquerade party seems like the perfect place to start. Delighted when a gorgeous masked man catches her eye, Meggie is later stunned to find out the sexy stranger is actually Caleb Greenleaf, her former brother-in-law! Their chemistry is undeniable, but will one thrilling night turn into the love they’ve both been looking for?
To Alaska, With Love
A Touch of Silk
A Thrill to Remember
Lori Wilde
Table of Contents
Lori Wilde
To Birgit Davis-Todd, who gave me the chance to write about my wild, sexy Alaskans.
And to my inspiration—the great state of Alaska.
THE PANTY HOSE were killing him. Cutting his gut clean in two. Whoever invented the torturous things should be strangled outright. No mercy shown.
Sheer, black, tight. They clung like second skin to the most exquisitely shaped pair of legs he’d ever seen. Narrow ankles, smooth rounded calves, supple knees and firm thighs.
She crossed her legs and the panty hose murmured a soft whisper. Swish.
And what about that dark seam running up the back? Simply sin-sational!
Lord have mercy on an Alaskan man’s soul. He’d never witnessed such sights in his hometown of Bear Creek. For a second there Quinn Scofield thought he would have to ask the flight attendant for an oxygen mask.
Boldly he peered over the top of his Wilderness Guide Monthly at the blond, sleek-haired, Charlize Theron look-alike. She sat in first-class seat 1B, one diagonal row up from his position in 2C. She and her dynamite hosiery, presumably on their way to JFK, had boarded the plane during the layover at O’Hare, but not once had she glanced behind her. Instead, she had been studiously typing into her laptop computer for the past thirty minutes.
This one was too cool for school and she knew it. Polished, classy, undeniably an urbanite, she was definitely not the kind of woman he was searching for. But man, did she ever rev his engines. Without the slightest provocation, he could easily imagine those fine, gorgeous limbs wrapped around his midsection or slung over his shoulders in the throes of serious sex.