To Alaska, With Love: A Touch of Silk. Lori Wilde

darkness comforting, the vastness of the landscape inspiring.

      “Where are we going?” she asked.

      “My place.”

      “Not to a restaurant?” Her voice rose on the question, as if she was nervous about his reply.

      “The only restaurant open during the winter months is the Paradise Diner next to the B&B. You’ll be sick enough of it by the time you head back to New York.”

      “Only one restaurant? You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “I’m not. Bear Creek’s winter population is about fifteen hundred.”

      “And in the summer?”

      “Late May through mid-August the population swells to three, four thousand, double that when the cruise ships are in town.”

      “Wow.”

      They arrived at his cabin, and he escorted her inside and took her coat.

      “Something smells wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I’m starving.”

      “Salmon chowder and grilled sourdough bread.”

      “Sounds delicious.”

      “Made it myself. The chowder that is, not the bread.”

      She laughed.

      Once in the kitchen, she enthused over the tablecloth, the candles, the champagne just as he’d hoped, and Quinn began to relax. He’d pleased her, which was precisely his intent.

      He pulled back her chair for her. She smiled up at him. They ate and talked and ate and talked as if they’d been friends for a thousand years.

      Quinn couldn’t quit staring at her. Whenever her pink tongue flicked out to take a morsel of food from her spoon, it felt as if she was licking him in a very private place. Several times he had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud.

      Kay was impressed that he’d worked so hard to make such a delicious meal. She admired his impeccable table manners and sent sideways glances at him. The candlelight accented his features. He’d rolled up his sleeves while serving their dinner, exposing those magnificent forearms that drove her wild with desire.

      “So, Quinn, for the sake of the readers of Metropolitan magazine, what’s your idea of the perfect date?” she asked, desperate to get her mind off his extreme sexiness.

      “We’re back to the article again.”

      “Yes.”

      “We’re having it.”

      “What?”

      “The perfect date.” He reached across the table, laid a hand on hers. “Good food. Great conversation. A pretty woman.”

      “Oh.” Taken aback by the very bold look in his eyes, Kay removed her hand from underneath his.

      “There’s only one thing that would make it better.”

      She held her breath.

      “Dessert.”

      He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and then brought out baked Alaska.

      “You made this yourself?” she gasped as he set the flaming dessert in front of her.

      “It’s not as hard as it looks.”

      “I’m impressed.”

      “That was my intent.”

      He nailed her with his steady gaze.

      She’d never met a man like Quinn. At once extremely masculine, yet oddly enough quite domestic. He possessed a self-confidence that would attract any woman. He had an intense strength underlying his every action, and hey, the guy could even admit when he was wrong. She wagered that mere weeks after his advertisement ran in the magazine, he’d be well on his way to matrimony with the wild woman of his dreams.

      She experienced a strange tug in her belly. Was she actually jealous of that as-yet-nonexistent woman?

      You don’t have to be jealous. You can have him for now. He’s the tonic to soothe your shattered ego. So what if there’s no happily-ever-after? What about happily-right-now?

      They ate the baked Alaska; then Quinn wiped his mouth with his napkin, checked his watch and shoved back his chair. “It’s about time.”

      “Time for what?”

      “Come with me. There’s something I’d like to show you.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to her. “This way.”

      He guided her toward the stairs.

      Toward the bedroom?

      Kay gulped. Was she really ready for this? She had taken the assignment because she wanted to see Quinn again. And because she couldn’t stop lusting after him, but when push came to shove, could she go through with it?

      “Quinn...I...”

      He placed a finger to her lips. “Shh.”

      His finger tasted slightly salty, the pressure of it against her mouth startlingly arousing. She had the strongest urge to capture that finger with her teeth and suck.

      He cocked his head and smiled oh-so-slightly, as if miraculously reading her thoughts. The five-o’clock shading riding his jaw looked rough, exciting, and she wondered what it would feel like rasping against her cheek.

      In a split second she was locked in another fantasy. She envisioned him without his clothes on and hiccuped at the image that rose to her mind. He would look gorgeous naked. She just knew it. Golden skin, perfectly defined muscles, firm hiney.

      Kay gulped.

      “Come,” he urged. “Come.”

      Did she dare?

      Maybe, Kay realized, maybe she was afraid of finding out that she really was sexually dysfunctional. But how could she be frigid when she felt so hot and wet and achy deep inside? When her entire body begged for a release she’d dreamed about on a daily basis?

      He laced his fingers through hers and, walking backward, slowly pulled her up the first step. “I’m not going to bite,” he murmured. “Unless you want me to.”

      Her heart punched her rib cage as she placed one booted foot on the first hardwood step.

      His gaze snagged hers and held on tight. Kay shivered at the purely masculine gleam in his sultry eyes. Even from arm’s length, she could feel his body heat radiating outward.

      She was coming undone. Something uncoiled in her belly. Something soft and warm and messy.

      His breathing, husky with desire, echoed loudly in the confines of the staircase. The erotic sound strummed along her nerve endings, escalating her excitement. She struggled to draw in a steady breath of her own, but ended up panting shallowly, her eyes locked to his.

      Up another step and then another.

      Scalding hot. It must be 110 degrees in here. Quinn tightened his grip on her fingers. She needed to run outside and roll around in the snow.

      “Almost there,” he coaxed.

      Almost where? His bedroom? At the thought she experienced this incredible, inextricable push-pull. Her nipples tightened in anticipation; she could feel them protruding against the material of her bra. Pressure, sweet, sweet pressure, grew between her legs.

      “Here we are,” he said at last, and she mounted the last step.

      But where he led her was not a bedroom.

      Kay blinked.

      It was another spacious living area with rafter ceilings, a second fireplace, leather couch, braided rug. A handmade quilt graced the back of the couch. The far corner housed a desk complete with computer, printer, fax, copier and scanner.

      Outdoor