A Touch Of Silk. Lori Wilde

      Frigid women didn’t wear stockings and garters and sexy black lace bras.

      They didn’t travel more than three thousand miles in search of sexual release. Quinn admired Kay’s courage more than he could say, and he was even more determined to help her find pure pleasure.

      Quinn hauled her across the seat toward him, wrapping his arms around her. His body ached to be joined with hers. He wanted to be buried inside her until she became a part of him.

      Kay was as eager as he. Her lips parted in anticipation, her breathing sped up. “And you want me?” she whispered.

      He guided her hand to his rock-solid erection. “You tell me.”

      Then without warning, she scooted her tush across the seat until her hot body was flush with his. She pressed those sweet, honeyed lips to the pulse at his throat and lightly bit down.

      “What are you doing?” His voice was so husky, so soaked with desire, he could scarcely hear his own words.

      “Take me home with you,” she whispered. “Make love to me right now.”

      He shook his head. “We can’t. Because you’re still not ready.”

      Dear Reader,

      Last year it was my good fortune to travel to Alaska. Never have I been so awestruck as I was by our great forty-ninth state. On my journey I met many colorful, vibrant Alaskans. It takes a special breed to live in the land of the midnight sun, where extremes of temperature and light challenge even the most hearty souls. For weeks after my trip I couldn’t stop thinking about the place.

      From the northern lights to the breathtaking glaciers to the quaint little tourist towns, Alaska got into my blood. And I began to ask myself What if? What if there were four very handsome, very studly Alaskan bachelors who really wanted to get married but couldn’t because of a shortage of women? And what if those bachelors decided to advertise for wives in the lower forty-eight states?

      And so the idea for THE BACHELORS OF BEAR CREEK was born. Some of the bachelors were funny guys, some very sensual. Clearly they fit in two camps. So I wrote the books as a cross-line miniseries between Blaze and Duets. Look for Sexy, Single and Searching and Eager, Eligible and Alaskan. I can only hope I’ve done justice to the great land of Alaska and the wonderful people who live there!

      Lori Wilde

      Books by Lori Wilde

      HARLEQUIN DUETS

      40—SANTA’S SEXY SECRET

      50—I LOVE LACY

      63—BYE, BYE BACHELORHOOD

      —COAXING CUPID

      A TOUCH OF SILK

      Lori Wilde

      TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

       AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

      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.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      1

      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.

      “Real hottie, isn’t she?” his seatmate, a paunchy, middle-aged businessman who’d had one too many whiskey sours, slurred, and nodded at the woman.

      “She’s very attractive, yes,” Quinn agreed, but kept his voice low so she wouldn’t overhear.

      Unfortunately the other man’s volume control had been affected by his alcohol intake. He leaned close in a confidential manner, nudged Quinn in the ribs and winked boldly. “I’d do her in a New York minute. Know what I mean?”

      Slowly Charlize turned and pinned them both with an icy glare. Quick, like a little boy chastised, the businessman looked away. But Quinn didn’t flinch. He’d been dying for a glimpse of those eyes, and he wasn’t going to let his seatmate’s bad manners deprive him of the thrill.

      Their gazes met.

      And he wasn’t disappointed. Her eyes were as compelling as the rest of her. Sharp, slightly almond-shaped, the color of dark chocolate.

      His heart did a triple axel, then dropped, ker-plunk, into his stomach. He’d always had a weakness for brown-eyed blondes. Quinn smiled, giving her his best George-Clooney-on-the-make imitation.

      Charlize didn’t return the favor.

      “Hi,” he greeted her boldly. “How you doin’?”

      For a minute there he thought she might speak.

      Her lips parted. Her eyes widened. A hint of a smile hovered.

      Come on, sweetheart, give it up.

      His hopes lodged in his throat. Suddenly his imagination transported him back to the fifth grade. He remembered sneaking off during recess to play spin the bottle with his classmates in the basement of Seward Middle School with the singular hope of kissing Mindy Lou Johnson.

      But then Charlize cruelly shattered his dreams. Without a word, she flicked her gaze away, as if he was of no more significance than a pesky fly, and went back to her laptop.

      Snubbed! Okay, that’s what he got for daring to speak to the Queen of Cool.

      Quinn