A Touch of Silk (3 page)

No. It couldn’t be.

Judy leaned in close and whispered, “You don’t see guys like him traipsing up Fifth Avenue every day of the week.”

Please, don’t let it be Paul Bunyan, Kay prayed, but in her heart she knew.

Judy took her by the elbow and dragged her across the room like a reluctant puppy on a leash.

“Quinn,” Judy said. “I’d like you to meet Kay Freemont, one of our top writers.”

Slowly he pivoted on one booted heel, an insouciant gleam in his eye. Then recognition hit. His brows sprung up on his forehead and the grin went from free and easy to downright seductive.

It was Paul Bunyan! What an awful coincidence.

Of all the magazine offices in Manhattan, he had to walk into mine.

Why was he here? Was this some kind of a sign, him showing up so unexpectedly? Was the universe trying to tell her something?

“Kay, this is Quinn Scofield from Bear Creek, Alaska.”

She stared at him.

He stared back at her.

Neither of them spoke.

The air around them seemed to vibrate with heat and energy and overpowering awareness.

Quinn. From Alaska. The Mighty Quinn. She should have known he would have a macho moniker. The name fit him like the mackinaw he wore.

Puzzled, Judy watched them watching each other. “Have you two already been introduced?”

“Actually, no.” Quinn didn’t even wait for Kay to offer her hand. He simply took it, and her blood puddled like melted butter in the pit of her stomach. “I’m very honored to make the acquaintance of such a lovely lady.”

Pul-leeze. Enough with the flattery. I just saw you flirting with that assistant.

And yet, a small frisson of pleasure spiraled through her body and lodged with stunning acuity in her most feminine parts. If anything, her attraction to him was even stronger than it had been the day before.

Scary.

When Kay finally tore her gaze from his face, she realized that all the single women—and more than a few of the married ones—in the room were looking at her as if she’d snatched a prized morsel of filet mignon from their mouths.

“Quinn’s come to New York looking for a wife,” Judy said.

A wife? Kay took a step backward.

She jerked a quick glance in Quinn’s direction and saw he was observing her reaction to Judy’s news. Oh, boy, and here she’d been dreaming of having a red-hot fling with him. Well, certainly not now!

She’d just about decided to give old Lloyd the heave-ho and to tell her parents she was tired of living her life to suit them. She was ready to stretch her sexual wings and fly. She was not getting involved with a man who was looking for a commitment. No way. No matter how sexy he might be.

“He wants to place this full-page color ad with us.” Judy took the advertising copy from an assistant and handed it to Kay.

Full-page color-ad space in Metropolitan magazine didn’t come cheap.

“The four of us pitched in,” Quinn said, as if reading Kay’s mind. “The bachelors of Bear Creek.”

“Doesn’t that have a great ring to it?” Judy’s eyes glistened. Clearly she was enamored of Quinn, his buddies and their ad.

Kay stared down at the photograph in her hand and sucked in her breath. Pictured were four of the most gorgeous men she’d ever laid eyes on, one of them Quinn. They looked sexier and far more masculine than anything Madison Avenue could have dreamed up. The men wore blue jeans, devilish grins and nothing else, their hunky, well-muscled bare chests on prominent display.

In the photo Quinn was lounging on one end of a black leather couch. He was bigger than she’d even imagined, with the buffest biceps on the planet. Draped across the other side of the couch was a coal-haired, blue-eyed Adonis with a dreamy, angelic air about him. On the floor, perched atop a bearskin rug, sat a dishy blond man with more charisma than a movie star, and another dark-eyed man with a lantern jaw and deep-set brown eyes. All four men were looking straight into the camera as if staring into the eyes of a beautiful woman.

Her gaze went from the one-dimensional, bare-chested Quinn to the fully three-dimensional Quinn standing beside her, and she gulped.

“That’s Caleb Greenleaf,” he said, leaning over her shoulder and pointing to the Adonis. “He’s a naturalist for the state of Alaska. And that’s Jake Gerard and Mack McCaulley. Jake runs the local bed-and-breakfast, and Mack’s a bush pilot.”

But Kay wasn’t thinking about Caleb or Jake or Mack, no matter how good-looking they were. She was completely and totally distracted by Quinn’s warm breath fanning the hairs on the nape of her neck.

Her gut tripped. She inhaled sharply and caught the arresting scent of his subtle aftershave and heated male flesh. That delicious smell sent her senses reeling.

Shaking her head to dispel the sultry cocoon Quinn had woven around her, Kay returned her attention to the glossy paper in her hand. Beneath the photograph of the four very eligible bachelors was the provocative caption: Wild Women Wanted!

“Do you have what it takes to be a wilderness wife?” was the first line of copy.

For absolutely no reason at all, Kay’s heart fluttered. That line shouldn’t have titillated her. She definitely did not have what it took to be a wilderness wife. She considered eating fast food roughing it. She had a low tolerance for cold weather, and she was scared to death of creatures like wolves and moose and bears.

Of course, if you had a man like Quinn to protect you from the cold and the critters, it might make Alaska a little more palatable. Still, a life without four-star restaurants, Broadway shows and department stores was too dismal to consider.

“I love this whole idea,” Judy was chattering to Quinn. “Sexy bachelors forced to advertise in the lower forty-eight states to find wives. It’s romantic. It’s enchanting. It’s a modern-day fairy tale. Our readers will eat it up. In fact, I’d like to run a feature article on the four of you.”

“We could hold a contest,” Kay volunteered, her marketing instincts kicking in, despite the fact that she really wanted nothing more to do with this particular bachelor and his wife hunt. “In thirty words or less tell us why you’d like to win a free trip to Bear Creek, Alaska. That sort of thing.”

“Fabulous!” Judy enthused, and patted Kay’s cheek. “You’re such a dynamo. I knew you’d have something valuable to say. I love the idea. Simply love it. Then we can do a follow-up story on the contest winner. And who knows, if any of the guys find a wife as a direct result of the ad, we can do follow-up articles all through the year. I’ll have to run this by Hal first, but I know he’s going to adore it, too.”

Kay shrugged, playing it cool as always. Freemonts never acted too eager.

“So what do you say, Kay? Ready to pack your bags and spend a couple of weeks in Alaska?” Judy asked.

“What?” She shook her head, thrown off by Judy’s question. “Me go to Alaska?”

“Well,” Quinn said, “late February probably isn’t the best time of year to visit. When I left home, it was ten below.”

“No kidding?” Judy whistled. “That is cold. But if we want the article to run with your ad in our June issue, then there’s no time to waste. Kay can do it. She’s pretty intrepid, aren’t you, darling?”

Ten degrees below zero! Kay shivered at the very idea. “Are you nuts?”

“Come on, where’s your spirit of adventure?” Judy goaded her. “Besides, it’s perfect for the article. You can tell the readers firsthand that being an Alaskan wife is not for the faint of heart. Marriage-minded, handsome, successful bachelors do not come without some kind of price tag.”

Kay shook her head. She was not going to Alaska—it would give Quinn the wrong idea. He might start thinking she was interested in becoming his bride. Besides, she had to settle things with Lloyd. “I’m sorry, I can’t commit to this project right now—I’ve got too much on my plate. Why don’t you ask Carol? I’m sure she’d love to go.”

Was it her imagination, or did Quinn look disappointed? The notion that he wanted her to come to Alaska did strange things to Kay’s insides.

“Don’t give me your answer yet,” Judy said. “I still have to talk to Hal. Then you can make up your mind. How’s that sound?”

“All right, but don’t tell Hal that I’ve agreed to sign on yet.”

“Understood. Now why don’t you take Quinn to lunch? In fact, take the rest of the afternoon off. Show him New York. Since you’re practically engaged, I know you won’t be a threat to his bachelorhood and snatch him off the market before the ad even has a chance to run.”

PRACTICALLY ENGAGED.

So that explained why she’d fled from the airplane before he’d had a chance to ask her name. She’d been as attracted to him as he was to her, and very clearly disturbed by that attraction because she was in a serious, committed relationship.

Damn.

And he’d come to New York in person, rather than handling the details of placing the ad over the phone or through the mail, not only because he was considering purchasing new wilderness gear from a sporting goods outfit run by an old friend, but because he’d secretly hoped to have one last sexual adventure before seriously beginning his wife search.

With all his heart and soul, Quinn believed in monogamy. His parents, who’d had a solid, loving marriage for forty years and still counting, provided him with a blueprint. Once he made a commitment to a woman, he’d be hers for life. But until he found her, well, he was a red-blooded male, after all. He had physical needs. Needs that were growing stronger by the minute.

He’d known from the moment he’d watched Kay Freemont board the plane that he wanted her, and then to find her working in the office of Metropolitan magazine—unbelievable! He’d taken it as a positive sign that she was supposed to be his passionate last fling. But now, to discover that she was practically engaged. Where did that leave him? He wasn’t the sort of guy who came between a woman and her almost fiancé.

Then again, what the hell did “practically engaged” mean, anyway? Quinn ran a hand through his hair. Where he came from, either you were engaged or you weren’t. Maybe it was a New York thing.

“Well.” Kay nodded and looked rather uncomfortable with the assignment of baby-sitting him for the rest of the afternoon. “Well.”

Had her boss’s edict to wine and dine him left her at a loss for words? Or was it something more? Was it meeting him again?

Dream on, Scofield.

And yet, that was exactly what he wanted to do. Dream on and on and on of taking her to bed. Seeing her in her work environment, amid people who obviously admired and respected her, looking so professional and self-possessed in that short-skirted purple business suit made him crave her even more. Did she have any earthly idea what those magnificent legs of hers did to a man? Women who were practically engaged and possessed legs like Thoroughbreds should not be allowed to wear skirts like that! There oughtta be a law.

Damn, but the woman blew him away! Her cocoa-brown eyes simmered with a suppressed sexuality that begged to be brought to a boil. When he had turned and spied her beside Judy Nessler, adrenaline walloped him in the gut.

Now, simply standing here next to her, inhaling her scent—a fetching combination of vanilla ice cream and sharply scented cinnamon sticks—his body came alive. To the point where he wished for a bucket of ice cubes to chill his throbbing member.

“Your cologne smells nice. What’s it called?”

“White Heat.”

He angled her a glance. “White Heat, huh? It suits you.”

“Pardon?”

He could tell by the way she pursed her lips that he’d unnerved her. “You’re like white heat. You’ve got this cool, outer demeanor, but inside, there’s a deep, smoldering flame.”

She gulped. He watched her struggle to control her features. She hated giving away her thoughts, he realized, and she’d mastered the art of suppressing her emotions.

How he longed to unsuppress her. To teach her how to open up and say exactly what was on her mind.

“Uh, let me get my bag and coat and change my shoes.” She gestured in the direction of what he supposed was her office. “And we can grab some lunch.”

She dashed away, leaving him to rein in his hormones, and returned a few minutes later wearing a black leather coat with an oversize purse thrown over her shoulder and a pair of Nikes on her feet. He almost laughed at the sight of her in that glamorous business suit and shod in running shoes, but once they were out on the street, he noticed a lot of the women similarly dressed. He commented on it.

“Try walking twelve blocks in high heels. You’d carry a spare pair of sneakers in your bag, too.”

“We don’t even have blocks in Bear Creek.” He grinned.

She gave him a strange look as if he was speaking Mandarin. And it struck him then how different their lives were. He could survive alone in the Alaskan wilderness for weeks if necessary, but in New York City, he feared being unable to survive something as simple as crossing the street. He couldn’t understand how people lived here day in and day out. The pollution, the noise, the crowds. Eventually it had to drive you out of your mind.

Kay stepped off the curb and raised her hand. A taxi glided to a stop at their feet.

How’d she do that? he marveled. When he’d tried to get a taxi to carry him to the magazine office, he’d been ignored. Was he so obviously an out-of-towner? Or did she know some taxi-halting secrets? Then again, if he was a cab driver, he would willingly risk whiplash to jam on the brakes for those legs.

Quinn moved to open the taxi door for her. Kay gave him an odd look, then scooted across the back seat of the cab to make room for him.

“You don’t have to do the he-man routine with me.”

“What?” He stared at her, puzzled.

Kay could tell he had no clue what she was talking about. “You know. First the door to the building, now the cab. I can open my own doors, you know.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just habit. My mother drilled good manners into my head. I’ll try to stop if you want.”

“No. Please forget I mentioned it.”

She immediately felt badly for saying anything. She had to remember he was an Alaskan and obviously rather old-fashioned. He probably carried a clean hankie in his shirt pocket at all times in case some damsel burst into tears. Plus, she was accustomed to Lloyd only opening doors for her when they were around other people. Putting on a show to impress his business associates.

Honestly, she’d never met anyone quite like Quinn.

Kay took him to a Cuban restaurant that served to-die-for mahi-mahi with mango chutney, black beans, rice and fried plantains. And as she suspected, he told her that he’d never tasted anything like this exotic fare as the food disappeared from his plate.

He also told her stories about Alaska. About his loyal friends and loving family. Then he asked her questions about New York. He spoke with such open animation, she was helplessly drawn to his enthusiasm. He didn’t play games, he didn’t pull punches. Her parents would probably have thought him too loud and too eager, but she found his down-to-earth candor refreshing.

“So tell me,” he said after he’d polished off the last crumb of key lime pie. “How long have you been ‘practically’ engaged.”

She could tell by the way he said “practically” that he found the notion ridiculous. “Lloyd and I have been dating four years.”

“Your guy’s commitment-phobic, huh? Hasn’t gotten around to popping the question, but you’re expecting him to?”

“No, that’s not it. I mean, well, actually, he did ask me to marry him a few days ago.”

“So you are engaged.” His tone was flat. She saw disappointment in his eyes.

“No.”

“You turned him down?” Hope flared fresh in his face, and the sight of his renewed optimism confused her.

“No.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand. You told him you’d think about it?”

“It didn’t happen that way. Listen, I really don’t feel comfortable discussing my personal life with you.”

“Okay.” He gave an easy shrug, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to dig deeper. What she didn’t know was why, but she certainly wasn’t going to open up and spill her guts to a stranger.

Not even her closest friends knew what was in her heart. She’d been taught by her father, the cutthroat businessman, that the more people knew about you, the more they could use against you. Once, when she was a little girl, her father took her to work with him. When his secretary asked her if she’d rather be playing in the park, instead of touring a stuffy old building, Kay had responded with an enthusiastic yes. Her father then jerked her into his office and lectured her until her ears burned about expressing her true feelings to underlings. She never forgot that lesson.

Quinn cleared his throat. The waiter refilled their coffee cups.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Kay said. “That sounded bitchy.”

“No need to apologize. You’re right. It’s none of my business. It’s just that if I was dating a woman like you, I wouldn’t have waited four years to ask you to marry me.”

“Which raises the question, if you’re not commitment-phobic yourself, how come you’ve stayed single so long?”

“Not a lot of women to choose from in Bear Creek. And most of the tourists that come to town are looking for a summer fling. And who’s to say I’ve never been married?”

“Have you?” Kay lifted an eyebrow. Although she hated answering personal questions herself, she had no compunction against asking them. Enjoyed it, in fact. Perhaps that’s what attracted her to journalism. The opportunity to discover the intimate details of others’ lives without revealing any information about her own.

“Came close once.”

“What happened?”

“Now I’m the one who’s uncomfortable discussing my private life.”

“Whoever writes the feature article on you is going to want to know the answer to these questions.”

“Then I’ll save the interview for that reporter.”

Silence.

“So in general, what qualities do you look for in a woman?” She spoke lightly, but every cell in her body stood at attention as she waited for his answer.

“I don’t really want a career woman. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but I see myself with a woman who’s mainly interested in making a home. I want kids. And I like the idea of providing for the woman in my life.”

“Oh, I see. The caveman mentality. Keep ’em barefoot and pregnant.”

“I don’t mind if she wants to work,” he expounded. “But the children and I should be her priority. Just as she and the kids will be my top priority, not work, not a job. Family and friends. That’s what counts. Don’t look so disapproving. I’m being honest here.”

“I’m not disapproving. You’re misconstruing my expression. Besides, does it matter what I think?”

The truth was, she’d been thinking that she’d never heard a New York male express such a sentiment or, for that matter, even admit to wanting children. She found it oddly refreshing, even though one side of her wanted to argue that women could have both prosperous careers and happy, well-adjusted children if they learned how to juggle.

His gaze was on her face. He was running his index finger around and around the rim of his coffee mug in a slow, languid motion that made her feel dizzy with desire. “My ideal woman has to be tough. She’s got to be hardy enough to brave winters in Alaska.”

“What about beauty?”

“Beauty’s good, but not really important. I mean, there’s got to be sexual chemistry between us, but I’m not looking for perfection. On the contrary, I think a little sass, a little attitude spices things up.”

“Really?”

“And even though I’m ready to settle down, I’m not willing to settle. When I get married, it’ll be forever. Until then—” he grinned “—I’m up for whatever adventures come my way.”

“Oh.” At this, Kay took heart. Perhaps he might provide that illicit affair she was yearning for, after all.

“So what do you look for in a man, Kay Freemont?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Then how do you know if Mr. Practically Engaged is the right one for you?”

She winced. “Please, I—”

“Oh, right, no personal questions.”

“How long are you in town?” She changed the subject and wondered what she was going to do with the information. Wondered why her heart was pounding.

“I fly out at seven-thirty on Wednesday morning. Tomorrow I’ve got an all-day thing with my friend from Adventure Gear. I’m thinking of switching over to their climbing harnesses, and he’s taking me on a climb upstate.”

“Ah.” Her hopes plummeted. No time for a wild fling.

He reached across the table and lightly grazed her hand with the tips of his fingers. It shouldn’t have been an erotic gesture, but it was.

“You could come to Alaska,” he said, reading her thoughts as clearly as if they’d been etched on her face. His habit of expressing exactly what was on her mind was uncanny and, frankly, a little disturbing. “Write that article for your editor. We could have a lot of fun together, you and I. Why not consider it?”

Astounded by the sensations that surged through her at his touch, she slipped her hand away. She never did answer his question.

After lunch he wanted to see the Empire State Building, so off they went. Quinn moved through the crowd like a redwood among matchsticks. On more than one occasion, she noticed women’s heads turn as they shot him appreciative glances. She felt oddly jealous.

And strangely aroused.

More aroused, in fact, than she’d ever been.

While Quinn admired the view from the top of the Empire State Building, Kay admired Quinn.