A Touch of Silk (7 page)

The shimmers danced and twirled, gauzy curtains of brilliant brightness changing shapes, billowing out like a green genie from a bottle in those old cartoons she had been banned from watching as a child.

“The northern lights,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His voice was as husky with awe and respect as her own.

“It’s incredible. Resplendent. Superlative. Words can’t began to describe it.”

“Nature’s light show. We see the aurora up to two hundred times a year from early spring to late fall. This year promises to be particularly vibrant because of increased sunspot activity.”

“What causes this spectacle?”

“Scientifically speaking,” Quinn said, “the northern lights are electrical discharges resulting from the interaction between wind and the earth’s magnetic field.”

“Oh.”

“But the Native Alaskans believe the lights were torches carried by old souls to guide the new souls into the next world.”

A carpet of gooseflesh covered her arms, despite her long-handled underwear. She felt shivery inside and not just from the eerie legend, but from her closeness to Quinn.

He’d brought her up here to see this breathtaking display, not to make love to her. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me now, kiss me hard, kiss me long.

But she didn’t say those things. Instead, she turned to him and smiled softly, belying the inner turmoil raging through her mind. “Thank you, Quinn, for showing this to me.”

“You’re welcome. Hang on, I’ll get us some champagne and we’ll toast your arrival and the appearance of the sometimes temperamental aurora. I’d hoped she would come out to play tonight, but you never know for certain.”

“She?”

“The aurora is most definitely a feminine force,” he said. “Watch the sky. See how the lights flicker and tease? She’s fickle. Coming on hot, then shying away. Coyly fading one minute, flaring boldly the next. Cool yet strangely hot. Oh, Aurora is a woman all right. She’s got many moods.”

“You’re quite the romantic,” Kay said.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re not married.” She shook her head.

“Hopefully your article and our ad will help rectify that.”

But I don’t want you to get married, a selfish little voice inside her cried. If you get married, you can’t be my boy-toy.

She watched him amble to the champagne bucket positioned next to the stereo system. He turned on the radio, and the sound of Wilson Picket’s “Midnight Hour” spun out into the room.

“Oh,” she said, “I love this song.”

“That’s KCRK,” Quinn told her. “I put together the play list for tonight.”

He wrangled with the champagne bottle. She heard the cork pop, watched him fill two flutes with fizzy champagne.

“You went to a lot of trouble for me.”

His eyes met hers as he handed her a flute. “You’re worth it.”

Blinking up at his handsome face, Kay noticed things she hadn’t paid attention to before—the way his brown hair, shot through with golden strands, curled slightly over his forehead, the way his eyes went soft and seemed to caress her, the tiny mole an inch above the left side of his mouth.

He raised his glass. “To the moment,” he murmured.

She clinked the lip of hers against the lip of his. “To the moment.”

They sipped their champagne, eyed each other over the rim of their glasses. Kay felt at once heavy and yet extremely light, like a helium balloon tied to a child’s wrist. Weighted but yearning to fly.

Suddenly she burped.

“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, and slapped a hand over her mouth. In her family burping aloud was a sin akin to indecent exposure. “I’m so embarrassed. Please forgive me.”

“Lighten up, sweetheart. What’s to forgive? So you burped. Actually it makes me feel better. I was beginning to think you were too perfect.”

“I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot.”

“Well, if burping on champagne is your biggest fault, I won’t kick you out of my bed.”

Their eyes met, held for a long moment.

“Come sit.” He eased down on the couch, patted the cushion next to him.

She sat down beside him. He stretched his arm out over the back of the couch. She was acutely aware of it resting there. She imagined his fingers tangling in her hair, his mouth devouring hers. Briefly she closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she focused on the dancing lights beyond the window.

Quinn studied Kay as she watched the northern lights. Her profile mesmerized him. Her nose was refined, her cheekbones sculpted. Just looking at her made his heart feel crooked, as if it had slipped in his chest.

Her scent teased his nostrils. Warm and rich and compelling, it smelled of something foreign and exotic. Was that what attracted him to her? She was like no other woman of his acquaintance.

Her hair brushed lightly across his skin. He noticed her perfectly manicured fingernails, the delicate shape of her hands, her narrow wrist decorated with a gold tennis bracelet. Even though she was right beside him, she still seemed detached somehow. Her detachment intrigued him just as it had on the airplane.

Her aloofness roused him, made him want to do something drastic to bring her into the fold. She had lived in New York too long, spent too much time disconnected from people, too often kept her feelings to herself. Her two-week stay in Bear Creek would do her a world of good. Help her open up to herself and the world around her. He wondered if he should tell her about his urge to rattle her cage, ruffle her feathers, crack her facade. He ached to tell her exactly how he hoped to liberate her. But Quinn feared that if he spoke these words, it would be a mistake from which he could never recover.

And yet he felt driven, nervous. His heart began a fretful pounding. There were no words for what he wanted to say, and his tongue lay paralyzed on the floor of his mouth. A knot of pressure built inside him. Pressure that urged him to haul her into his arms and show her everything he simply could not say.

He wasn’t good with flowery sentiment. He was a man of action, and only action could quiet his restlessness. His body tensed and he leaned in close.

She looked at him then, her pale hair gleaming in the firelight, rivaling the natural phenomena flickering outside the window. Her breathing was shallow, and her brown eyes shone with a fevered effervescence. He’d never seen anything so lovely.

Kay felt his body shift toward her, pressing her deeper into the plush leather couch. His left side was crushed against her right, and he placed a hand on her thigh. Then his mouth was on hers—oh, how she had dreamed of kissing him again—urgent and insistent. She was concurrently both hot and cold. His body was tense, hard, but his lips were soft, inviting.

And his tongue.

Dear Lord, it ought to be illegal to possess such a tongue!

From there everything went wild, flailed totally out of control. He dropped his arm from the back of the couch, wrapped it around her waist and hauled her against his body, forcing her to spread her knees.

She felt his erection through his pants. It throbbed against her belly with a provocative rhythm. They were fused. Lips to lips. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. And yet it wasn’t nearly close enough. Too much clothing in the way.

Twining her fingers into the warm, thick, whiskey-colored hair at the nape of his neck, she arched her body against his. She opened her mouth wider, encouraging that roving tongue to pepper her with wet, sexual thrusts.

He mimicked her moves, one hand cupping the back of her neck. The fingers of his other hand stroked her jaw, her throat and skimmed lower until he was caressing her breasts through the velvety bodice of her dress. He kneaded the pliant flesh, searing her with triple-digit heat. Oh, she couldn’t wait until his hands were on her bare skin.

His thumb flicked across the pebble-hard nipple straining tight against her restrictive clothing. Damn, but she wanted to be naked. She threw back her head and a needy moan escaped her lips.

Putty. She was nothing but putty in his hands. The notion both frightened and exhilarated her.

Feverish desire clawed through her, pulling her down, drawing her under the power of Quinn’s spell. With the aurora borealis whipping gracefully in her peripheral vision, the fireplace embers glowing and Quinn’s tongue on its restless pursuit, she felt swept away by some unstoppable, forbidden fantasy.

Except this reality was more titillating than her most taboo dreams.

Too much torture. She simply could not stand this any longer. She wanted him. Now. Crazily, illogically, this very minute. She refused to stub out her urges. Passion pushed all her fears aside. Desire evaporated any shred of common sense she might have possessed. She wrenched her mouth from his.

“Quinn,” she gasped. “Before we go any further, there’s something I must tell you.”

He looked dazed, muzzy with craving. Their breathing mingled in rapid spurts.

“What is it?”

“I’m not…” She paused, not quite certain how to put this. “I’m not like other women.”

“You got that right, sweetheart.” He couldn’t seem to resist dropping a kiss on her jaw. That achingly light pressure threw her completely off-kilter.

She splayed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. She needed a moment to regroup. “No. I don’t mean it like that.”

He rearranged himself on the couch, shoved a hand through his hair and gave her his complete attention. “I’m listening.”

“I’ve never…” She squirmed uncomfortably. She hated admitting her deficiencies. She’d been raised on the myth that Freemonts never revealed their flaws. So why was she going to tell him her darkest secret? Because she felt as if he was the only one who could help her. “Well…you know…”

“What? Had sex?” He stared at her in disbelief.

“I’m twenty-seven, Quinn. I was almost engaged. Of course I’ve had sex.”

“Oh. What then?” He frowned.

This was so hard. She squirmed, she fidgeted. She tried the words out mentally first, but nothing seemed right. Finally she blurted, “I’ve never…” Then paused again.

“Never what?”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “…had an orgasm.”

“You’re kidding. For real?”

She nodded. “Lloyd says I’m frigid. That it’s my fault he had to turn to other women.”

“Bullshit!” Quinn spoke with such vehemence, Kay jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But that ex-boyfriend of yours is a jerk.”

His anger at Lloyd flattered her. She knew then that she had done the right thing by coming to Alaska, by revealing to Quinn her hidden shame.

“How he could fool around on such a beautiful, exciting, interesting woman is beyond me. He must have sawdust for brains.”

“You think I’m interesting?” She smiled shyly, not meaning to be coy. She wasn’t milking him for more compliments, but she was touched beyond measure that he found her interesting, as she’d always thought herself rather dull.

“Interesting, hell.” Quinn snorted. “You’re downright mysterious. You keep yourself so contained. I ache to know what you’re thinking when you get those Mona Lisa smiles on your face. And you’re anything but frigid. If you’ve never been able to come, it’s through no fault of your own. You’ve just been with the wrong men.”

Kay gulped. This next part was hard, but she had to say it. “I want to ask a favor of you.”

“What is it?” His eyes never left her face.

“Do you think that maybe you could help me…er…achieve sexual fulfillment?”

“Say the word, sweetheart,” he encouraged her, lifting a hand to capture a strand of her hair and rub it between his fingers. “Put aside that aristocratic breeding of yours and tell me that you want to come bigger than the state of Alaska.”

Pressing her teeth into her bottom lip, she stared straight into his eyes.

And almost lost it completely.

“I want you to make me come,” she begged him. “More than anything in the world.”

HOW HAD HE GOTTEN so lucky?

Kay Freemont, rich, successful, cultured and beautiful, wanted to entrust him, a simple Alaskan man, with her sexual awakening.

Stunned, delighted, touched, flattered and horny beyond comprehension. How had he gotten so lucky?

He sent a brief prayer of thanks to the heavens and added a pleading postscript: Don’t let me lose control. Help me to be strong so I can give her what she needs.

It was going to be hard—pun definitely intended—to rein in his own ravenous desires. He hadn’t been with a woman since he and Heather had broken up. He was hanging by a thread.

But he had to dig deep, find a way to put his own needs on hold. Because Kay was giving him the opportunity of a lifetime. She was granting him the privilege of bringing her to the heights of her sexuality.

He was a fortunate SOB and he would not let her down.

She took a long swallow of champagne, then sat her glass on the floor at her feet and shifted her body into his. “I’m ready, Quinn. Make love to me.”

Shaking his head, he reached out and tenderly traced her lips with his thumb. She shivered beneath his caress, and the shot of adrenaline that jumped into his gut floored him.

Control, Scofield. Control.

“Oh, no, my sweet, not so fast,” Quinn said, when what he wanted to do more than anything in the world was strip that velvet dress over her head, rip off those long johns and make messy, wet, hot love to her.

“What do you mean?” she whispered, her eyes growing wide.

“A proper seduction takes time.”

“Oh, yes? How much time?” She seemed alarmed.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

He grinned wickedly. “When you’re ready.”

“I’m ready tonight,” she said a bit peevishly. She narrowed her eyes at him and he understood her frustration. If she thought she was frustrated now, she was in for a big shock.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Listen, sweetheart, we’re doing this my way or not at all. Got that?”

She 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 were 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 visiting for a couple of weeks to help me while I’m out of commission.” Linda gestured at her cast. “You and Meggie ought to get together. She’s a city girl just like you, and I do believe you two are the only single women in town under thirty and over eighteen.”

“I’d love to meet her.”

Kay felt a tug of sadness in her heart, and she couldn’t really say why. Maybe because this couple were so different from her own parents. They wore woolen pants, nylon and flannel, where Honoria and Charles Freemont were never seen in public without being impeccably dressed.

Linda and Jim sent each other private signals with their eyes. Kay’s parents rarely even looked each other in the face. The Scofields touched frequently with simple, loving gestures. Her mother and father were rarely even in the same room together.

Without any encouragement, Quinn’s parents extolled his virtues.

“Did you know Quinn’s on the volunteer fire department?” Linda asked.

“No, I didn’t.” Kay scribbled on her notepad, Bet he looks good in fire boots and suspenders and nothing else.

“He’s captain of the local hockey team,” Jim bragged.

“Quinn has a bachelor’s degree in sports physiology,” Linda said.

“He’s owned his own business for ten years and each year he turns a bigger profit.” Jim nodded.

“And he still finds time to help us out at the radio station. You couldn’t ask for a better son.” Linda took a sip of her coffee. “Or better husband material. Write that down.” She waved a hand at Kay’s notebook. “I’m hoping this advertisement thing pays off for Quinn. I’m ready for grandchildren, and Meggie doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to accommodate me.”

Jim eyed Kay. “You wouldn’t be interested in our boy yourself, would you? You’re a beautiful young lady. You two would have the handsomest kids.”

“Oh, no.” Kay struggled to tamp down the telltale blush she knew was spreading up her neck. “I mean, I like Quinn very much, but I’m a New Yorker. And I just got out of a relationship. I’m not ready for anything serious. Quinn and I are at two different places in our lives.”

Immediately she realized she’d given too much information too quickly. Why had she said so much? That certainly wasn’t like her, spilling her guts to strangers. Probably she’d spouted off because she didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about Quinn and her.

But oddly enough, her nervous revelation seemed to endear her to Quinn’s parents. The Scofields smiled at her sweetly and Jim patted her on the shoulder. “No explanation necessary.”

“But you do like him,” Linda said.

Oh, great. How had she gotten herself into this conversation?

“Mom, Dad,” Quinn boomed from the door of the restaurant, “stop bending Kay’s ear.”

Relieved, Kay looked up to see him stalk toward them. Her heart gave this strange little thump and she suddenly felt all loose and melty inside. He was even better-looking than she remembered in that hard-edged, masculine way of his.

He stopped beside her stool. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Inwardly she cringed. That sounded too flirty.

“Sleep well?” He grinned as if he knew she hadn’t slept a wink.

“Considering the circumstances.”

“Strange bed and all that.”

“And all that,” she echoed.

“We better be heading out.” Jim Scofield got to his feet, left some money on the counter, then turned to help his wife from her stool. “Linda’s got a doctor’s appointment in Anchorage at two-thirty, and Mack’s waiting to fly us over, so we better get a move on. Nice meeting you, Kay.”