To Alaska, With Love: A Touch of Silk. Lori Wilde
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glared at him, crossed her arms over her chest, flipped one knee over the other. “I’m not sure I like this.”
“Before I make love to you, you’ll have to eject that uptight demeanor.”
“I’m not uptight.”
“Arms crossed, legs crossed. Babe, you’re closed up tighter than Glacier Bay in January.”
“So you do think I’m frigid.”
“No! Okay, that was a bad analogy. I do not think you’re frigid. But in order for you to get the full sexual experience, you’re going to have to relax. And before you can do that, you’re going to have to trust me completely.”
“And how long will this take?” she asked, purposely uncrossing both her arms and her legs to show she was ready, willing and able to start trusting and relaxing right now.
He lowered his head, his mouth almost on hers. He smelled the fruity scent of champagne on her lips. Right then and there he almost caved. He barely resisted the urge to capture that sassy mouth with his once more.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered huskily. “You’ll know.”
* * *
EXHAUSTION CLAIMED HER MIND, haunted her body. Kay had spent the rest of the night in her lonely bed at Jake Gerard’s B&B pining for a man who was bent on serving up sweet torture.
And in between the tossing and turning, she had been consumed with rampant fantasies about Quinn. In one scenario he was a wild-eyed pirate who kidnapped and savaged her repeatedly in the hold of his ship. In another fantasy she was a domineering amazon who kept him chained in the basement for her pleasure. In yet another vision he was a wounded soldier fighting for the other side, and she was a caring nursemaid who hid him in her father’s barn.
Ack!
She was slowly losing her ever-loving mind. She had to stop thinking about Quinn. She had work to do. An article to write. She was going to get dressed, go out on the town and explore Bear Creek. She refused to dwell on the fact that he wouldn’t make love to her yet and put her out of her misery.
Groaning, she threw back the covers and crept out of bed, stripping off her nightgown and heading straight for the shower. Standing under the stream of hot water, she kept thinking about what Quinn had said.
You’re not ready.
Well, how the hell did he know what she was ready for? He barely knew her. But in a way that was what made this whole venture so exciting. Knowing she would never see him again after her trip to Alaska, having this fabulous memory of her sexual adventure and possessing a wistful fondness for the man who showed her that she was all woman. This knowledge was the only thing that had given her the courage to express her true desires to him. To ask him to become her mentor in love.
So here she was, with her fanny on the line, ready, willing and able for action. And Quinn had been the one to put the brakes on.
She soaped her hair but in an instant she was fantasizing again. She saw Quinn in the shower, massaging the shampoo into her scalp, then rinsing her hair.
Her belly clenched with heated desire as she envisioned his hard body brushing hers, his manhood standing at attention. He would press her against the cool tile while hot water sluiced over their fevered skin. He would claim her mouth with his. Roughly, insistently, pillaging her territory. Then he would change tempo and the kisses would turn long and soft and lazy.
She arches her body into his. Desperate for release. She begs him to enter her. She needs to feel him inside her. Needs to experience the fullness only his large shaft will bring.
His fingers curl into the most private part of her. He rubs her cleft gently at first, then with more pressure.
Her sensitive breasts tighten and swell in response, and he gloats over her hardened nipples, taking credit for her arousal. He dips his head to those perky mounds, taking first one into his mouth and then turning his attention to the other. He flicks his tongue over the pink peak. It’s as if there is a string connecting her nipples to her groin. With each seductive lick she feels a deepening ache at her very center.
She bites her bottom lip to keep from crying out, but he urges her to let go.
“Scream if you want,” he insists, his mouth against her ear. “Let the world know we’re making love.”
Then he’s nibbling her earlobe, running his silky tongue along the outside of her ear. The shudder that crawls through her rocks her to her core. She wraps her arms around his neck, clings to him....
The hot water gone cold forced her back to reality.
Kay opened her eyes, found her lips were pressed against the wall tile. Chagrined, she hopped backward, slipped and would have crashed to the floor of the tub if she hadn’t grasped the soap rack.
Oh, she was pathetic. If Quinn didn’t make love to her soon, she would explode into a million pieces. That would go over big on the New York social register—and with her mother!
Shaking her head, Kay turned off the water, eased out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself.
Okay. No more nonsense. She was going to stop thinking about Quinn. She had work to do.
Twenty minutes later she was in the Paradise Diner enjoying blueberry pancakes and surrounded by a curious contingency of Bear Creek’s entertaining citizens.
Kay knew she was a novelty, and they were asking her more questions than she was asking them. Jake Gerard introduced her to Caleb Greenleaf, the only wife-hunting bachelor she hadn’t yet met.
Caleb turned out to be a serious man with almost unbelievable good looks. It took a lot of coaxing, but after a while he told her about his job as a naturalist for the state of Alaska. He was quite different from his buddies. Introverted, where the other three were clearly extroverts.
Everyone in Bear Creek was friendly, open, welcoming, so very unlike some of the New Yorkers she knew, who had a tendency to be curt, suspicious and unimpressed. They enthusiastically told her many things about their lives. They were so trusting. Too trusting, to her way of thinking. But that’s what she liked most about them.
Her New York life seemed very far away, and she couldn’t think of anything she missed.
Later, after she’d already compiled copious notes and recorded more than three hours worth of conversations, an attractive, middle-aged couple, holding hands and grinning at each other as if they shared the secret to long-term romance, came in for lunch.
The woman stepped carefully, slowed by a booted walking cast on her right foot. Her husband solicitously helped her up to the counter. They sat on Kay’s left, the man taking the stool Caleb had vacated.
He held out his hand to her and gave her a friendly smile. “Jim Scofield. We just had to come over to meet the reporter our son coaxed to come here all the way from New York City.”
“You’re Quinn’s parents? Thanks so much for letting me use your extra car.” Kay ran a hand self-consciously through her hair. She hadn’t bothered to blow-dry and style it that morning since she knew she would be wearing a woolen cap much of the day, but now she wished she had. Skimping on her grooming was not normal for her, and she felt exposed and at a disadvantage, even though she had already discovered most of the women in Bear Creek didn’t wear makeup or style their hair. Everything from their chunky Gore-Tex boots to their sensible parkas was geared for warmth and comfort. You’d never find a fashion show in Bear Creek.
“Yep.” Jim slung his arm over the woman’s shoulder. “This is my wife, Linda.”
“You did a fine job raising your son,” Kay told them as she shook their hands.
“We’re pretty proud of him.” When Linda smiled, her gray eyes softened into welcoming crinkles, just like Quinn’s. “And our daughter, Meggie. She’s an emergency-room nurse at a children’s hospital in Seattle. She’s