Hot to the Touch

“Me.” Troy spoke firmly, saw her into the driver’s seat. “The Pfister downtown. Meet me in the lobby.”

He shut her door on her surprised face and walked to his car before she could collect herself enough to respond. If they had to make love in a hotel room, okay, but for his depraved trysts, Troy wasn’t putting up with anything less than the best.

Roughly half an hour later, after a quick condom run, Troy met her in the Pfister’s elegant lobby and traveled with her up to room 321.

“Home sweet home.” He inserted the plastic card key and pushed open the door to the spacious, luxurious room done in rich shades of burgundy and gold: a bedroom with a four-poster king, a small sitting room and huge curtained windows that would have a view of Lake Michigan during the day.

“Nice. Beautiful, in fact.” She walked in, tossed her purse on the bed, drew back the curtain to peer out the window, then let it fall and casually pulled her shirt over her head, exposing a black lace push-up bra supporting firm breasts, and a toned abdomen over the black pants sitting low on her hips. “Long day. I’m going to shower.”

He stood watching her, taken aback, feeling almost superfluous, erection pushing uncomfortably against the fly of his jeans while she lowered her pants and stepped out of them to reveal not more black lace, but thin pink cotton bikini underwear with faded red and purple hearts. The mismatch was oddly endearing.

“Want company in the shower?”

She shrugged as if she couldn’t care either way. “Sure, if you’d like to.”

If he’d like to? What was going on here? She was acting as if they were professional acquaintances, not two passionate people about to become lovers. Was she nervous or really this blasé about inviting strange men into bed? He didn’t like either option. He wanted her hungry for him, excited, as anxious to touch and to discover him as he was to discover her.

Her hands disappeared behind her back; black lace came loose, uncovering round, high breasts with rose nipples that made Troy’s mouth purse in anticipation of sucking. She wasn’t looking at him, undressing as if he were a girlfriend she’d spent the day with and barely noticed in the room. The panties came down next in a matter-of-fact gesture, exposing closely trimmed dark hair through which peeked soft pink perfection.

Troy made a helpless sound between a groan and a moan. She either didn’t hear or pretended not to know what she was doing to him, threw her panties on the bed and started to stride toward the shower.

He stepped deliberately in her way, pulling his shirt over his head. She was not turning their night together into an impersonal body-on-body encounter, and she was definitely not making it as far as the shower before he was inside her.

“Excuse me.” Her eyes were wide searching his face, which must be reflecting his single-minded determination. “Could I please get to the shower?”

He pulled her against him, savoring the smoothness of her skin on his, and the lush pressure of her breasts. The lingering food odors had gone with her clothes; she smelled like woman and the subtle floral scent he’d caught earlier. “Shower later. You and me now.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do.” He moved side to side, letting his chest brush her nipples, holding her eyes with his.

She shifted her gaze away, then back, put a hand to his sternum, but not forcefully. “I’m not clean. I’d rather—”

“You smell delicious. You smell like you.” His voice came out a whisper; he kissed her bare shoulder, the base of her neck, her throat. “I want you now. Then shower if you have to, then I want you again. And again. And again.”

He kissed her beautiful skin, longer between each word, undoing his jeans, pushing until they fell to his ankles and he could step out of them. Then he found her mouth, wrapped her tightly in his arms and lifted her, making her clutch at his shoulders and moan against his lips.

Yes. She wanted him, this stunning, incredibly hot, older and undoubtedly more experienced woman. She wasn’t as indifferent as her methodical striptease suggested. His ego swelled along with his dick. He was going to make this good for her, good enough to break through that iron control. Maybe she’d tell him nothing about herself using words, but she’d tell him plenty with her body by the time this night was over. And in the days and nights ahead, he’d get to know the rest.

He toppled her back onto the mattress, which bounced them comfortably.

“Are you always this dictatorial?” Her breath was coming fast. She opened her legs to let him settle between them. He rubbed his erection against her beautiful sex through the thin cotton of his boxers.

“No, but I suspect you are.”

“Always.” She smiled up at him, dark eyes shining, hair splayed on the hotel pillow around her lovely face. Something shifted in his heart. What was it about this woman? He hadn’t known her for more than a few hours.

“I bet you run something for your career.” He touched his nose to hers, nuzzled her soft cheek. “Manage people. Boss crowds of them around.”

“I told you, no personal details.”

“No?” He rolled to the side, bringing her over with him, wondering what she was hiding from or scared of, and when or if she’d let him in. He trailed his fingers down her flat belly, forcing himself to go slower than he wanted, circled them in the short, soft hair between her legs, brushed her clitoris gently back and forth, loving the push of her hips in response. “How about this personal detail?”

“Oh.” The syllable was soft, breathless. “You seem to know that one already.”

“Mmm, yes.” He teased her more, running his fingers slowly around her sex, exploring, reading her reactions—the thrust and grind of her hips, the catch in her breathing, the flutter of lashes against her cheek.

“And this?” Thumb rubbing a light circle on her clitoris, he slid a finger inside her, nearly going out of his mind with lust when her eyes shot open and a gasp escaped her.

“That is personal.”

“Yes. It is.” He pushed a second finger inside her, wanting to watch her come apart, to send her as far from the tightly controlled woman dispassionately pulling off her clothes as he could get her.

“Wait.” She tried to squirm away from his fingers. “I’m … wait.”

“No waiting.” He bent and took her breast in his mouth, sucked the nipple, worshipped it with his tongue and teeth, kissed his way up to her throat, bit gently.

Her face flushed pink; she closed her eyes, panting helplessly. “Wait.”

“No,” he said quietly. “Let it go, sweetheart, you’re safe.”

Her body went rigid; her eyes opened wide into his. Troy felt her muscles contract powerfully around his fingers, and practically lost it. He was dimly aware he had to remember the condom, but not much else registered except his need to be inside this woman as soon as possible.

Then he was, and she felt smooth and tight, gripped his cock perfectly, legs wrapped around him. In seconds, she was on fire all over again, hands working the muscles in his back, her hips bucking, face showing her pleasure, though she didn’t meet his eyes. When he came, he had to keep from yelling, spasms of ecstasy shooting him impossibly higher, and then higher still after that.

She’d milked him dry, he was sure. Except in the shower he took her again, and again back on the bed, and once more in the middle of the night. In the morning, before his eyes were fully open, he reached eagerly for her, hard and ready to experience more of this insatiable woman for whom he was equally insatiable, who ruled his body and already at least part of his heart.

How could his life change so quickly? How could he go from so many pleasant, lukewarm dates with lovely women to an explosive all-night-long with someone who set him on fire with merely a look?

His hands met nothing on the other side of the bed; he rolled over and listened for her in the bathroom, wondering how he could have slept so deeply that he was entirely unaware of her getting up.

No sounds. He blinked, uneasiness creeping into his chest. She’d affected him more than any woman ever had, but the power in this situation was all on her side. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t have her number.

He threw off the covers, hurled himself out of bed. The sitting room was uninhabited; bathroom was dark, its door left ajar. He opened it anyway, sick with dread, flipped on the light and faced the inevitable emptiness of the room.

She was gone.

3

“CHAZ, THANKS FOR COMING IN today.” Marie shook the strong, beautiful, masculine hand of strong, beautiful, masculine Chaz Hunter, and escorted his strong, beautiful, masculine body out of her office, barely closing the door behind him before she was pumping her fist. “Yes!”

This was the man for Darcy. Intelligent, articulate, funny, drop-dead gorgeous, built like an Olympic diver, divorced five years, didn’t want kids and guess what he did for a living? Sold wine to stores and … wait for it … restaurants. He could not be more perfect. Marie could already envision long, sensual dates for the two of them spent tasting wine and food and each other. Chaz even loved the same kind of alternative rock music she did. Plus, from what Marie could tell, he came from money. So if Darcy ever needed a little cash infusion in her business, maybe to open a second location …

Okay. Marie was getting ahead of herself. But this guy was worth pulling out all the stops for, really attacking Darcy with how fabulous he was. And then when Darcy put her foot down and went mulish, as she very predictably and very annoyingly would, Marie could start thinking how to make this happen some other, less direct way. Some other, behind-the-scenes way. Some low-down, sinfully sneaky way.

Desperate times …

She pounced on her phone and dialed. Ten in the morning, Darcy wouldn’t be at the restaurant yet, or if she was, she wouldn’t be crazy busy and could talk. With any luck she’d even be able to listen.

“Darcy, it’s Marie.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her tone.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much.” She sat back in her desk chair, grinning smugly. “Oh, except I just met your future husband.”

“My—” Darcy groaned. “Well, isn’t that fascinating, seeing as how I don’t plan to get married ever.”

“He’s handsome, sexy, funny, sexy, rich, sexy—”

“Marie, what part of ‘I don’t want to date’ doesn’t get through your filter?”

“And, he sells wine to fine establishments such as yours. You’d have tons in common.”

“We have one thing not in common right off the bat.”

“You’re female, he’s male?” She laughed. “Honey, that’s the best part. Or maybe you forgot.”

“No-o. That’s not i-i-t.” Darcy sang the words as if she were taunting a sibling. “The difference is that he wants to date, and I don’t.”

“You don’t have to date. Just meet him.”

“Oh, like that’s going to—”

“Just look at his profile.”

“Not interested.”

“His picture.”

“For heaven’s—”

“How about listen to me saying his name?”

“Marie! You are a menace.”

“Aren’t I?” She was so enjoying this, twisting her chair side to side, sure she was finally on her way to victory, be it fair or foul. “You know I’m going to wear you down eventually. Why not give in?”

“Because.” Darcy made a sound of frustration. “I don’t need any more male complications right now.”

Marie’s chair stopped; her eyes shot wide. “More male complications? What do you mean ‘more’? You met someone?”

“No. No, I didn’t meet— For God’s sake, Marie. You are obsessed. I think you need to see someone about this. A friend has a therapist who has helped her a lot with her complete and total insanity, yours can’t be much worse. Or maybe it is.”

“Chaz Hunter.” She picked up a pen and wrote the name in the air with giant flourishes. “Chaz-z Hunter-r.”

“Chaz? Oh, ew, what, his great-grandfather founded the Milwaukee Yacht Club?”

“His great-grandfather came over from Germany. They made money in construction. A lot of money.”

“How nice for them.”

“Just take a look.” She suppressed a giggle, sensing Darcy was about to blow. “I’ll send his picture to your—”

“Marie. I do not want—” A sharp thwack came across the line. Had a fish or chicken part just been severed while Darcy imagined Marie’s head leaving her body? Silence, then a long suffering sigh. “Send it if you want, but I’m deleting upon receipt.”

Excellent. She was weakening. Marie pulled up an email and attached Chaz’s profile picture. “Darcy, in all seriousness, he seems like a really good guy. I can see you enjoying him a lot. And he’s very hot.”

“And therefore incredibly full of himself.”

“Darcy, Darcy.” Marie tsk-tsked. “You are horrifically sexist.”

“I have to go. Delivery guy is here. Thanks for thinking of me, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Watch for his photo. Chaz Hunter.” She hung up, sent the email and let her head drop back, swinging the chair side to side again. Well. That was progress. Darcy’s curiosity would undoubtedly prompt her to look at the picture, which was pretty fabulous. Chaz, standing on top of a spectacular mountain, clear blue eyes visible, strong chin shown to advantage, thick ashen hair ruffling sexily in the wind.

Sadly, Marie was pretty sure it would take a stronger push to get Darcy to talk to the guy even if she found his picture attractive. The first step would have to come from Chaz. But since Darcy didn’t have a profile up on Milwaukeedates, Marie had nothing to show Chaz in order to interest him.

She stopped swinging the chair. Lifted her head. Stared at her laptop screen.

Now was the time.

Hadn’t she recognized at the Women in Power meeting last week that she’d probably have to resort to fighting dirty in order to get Darcy to admit that love was what she deep down really wanted?

If Marie put up a Milwaukeedates profile for Darcy and steered Chaz in her direction, maybe he’d take it from there. What girl could resist being courted by a handsome, wealthy guy with loads of charisma and common interests? Certainly not Marie. If her friend Quinn, who met each one of those criterion, ever glanced romantically in her short, plump, average-woman direction, she’d melt into a gooey puddle.

There was always the chance, however, that Darcy, faced with the same irresistible combination, might freeze into a column of ice.

Marie’s assistant buzzed. “Candy Graham on line three.”

“Thanks, Jane.” She connected the call eagerly. The perfect person to consult when hatching diabolical plans. “Hey, Candy.”

“Marie, I had a completely fabulous idea.”

“So did I.” She grinned. Candy tackled everything with one hundred percent enthusiasm. “Let’s hear yours first.”

“You should have a party to celebrate all the Milwaukeedates couples who’ve gotten engaged or married through your site. Next month, June, is wedding month, the perfect time. I’m thinking end of the month, a wedding theme with tiered cake, flowers, champagne, maybe have a drawing for a donated certificate to a local bridal shop and/or tux rental place, or for the already-marrieds, to a kitchen or home improvement store.”

“Wow. Wow!” Marie rose slowly from her chair as if helium was filling her. “What a great idea, Candy! Do we have time to plan a party in a month?”

“Are you kidding? Plenty. I’m happy to do it. I bet the paper would be willing to write up a piece on it, too. It’d be great PR for both of us. And I have friends at a couple of radio stations who might be willing to do interviews.”

“Candy, you are brilliant.” Marie started pacing her office, going back over the five years she’d been in business. “We’ve had about twenty-five couples engaged or married since we started, including you and Justin and Kim and Nathan.”

“Fifty people is a perfect size. You can have it in your office, or … hey, maybe we can hold it at Gladiolas.”

“Yes!” Marie was already picturing the dining room at Gladiolas decorated for a wedding theme. “I love it. Good PR for Darcy, too.”

“Settled. So what was your completely fabulous idea?”

Marie gave a wicked grin. “Let’s say I’m trying to extend your guest list by one more couple.”

“Another set of lovebirds on the way?”

“I’m plotting. Darcy.”

“Darcy?” Candy gave a shout of laughter. “You think you can get her engaged in the next month? I didn’t think you could even get her interested in dating.”

“I can’t. But I’m still determined.”

“How are you going to do it?”

“Er …” Marie wrinkled her nose. “I do have a plan, but it’s not entirely ethical.”

Candy hooted. “Are you going to have her put up four different profiles on Milwaukeedates the way you did with me?”

“One would be enough.” She rubbed her temple, not entirely comfortable now that she’d have to admit to her scheme out loud. “The problem is that she refuses to consider it. So I was thinking maybe I could go online …”

“And put up a profile without her permission?”

Marie bit her lip anxiously. “It’s horrible, isn’t it.”

“It is pretty horrible.”

“I mean, it’s really low.”

“Really low.”

“You don’t think I should do it.”

“Absolutely, I do.” Candy sounded delighted. “It’s perfect.”

Marie snorted, wandering restlessly over to her bookcase. “I really don’t know.”

“C’mon, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“She’d get angry with me.”

“How does she feel about your matchmaking efforts on her behalf now?”

“Angry with me.”

“Therefore …”

“I see your point.” She ran a finger over the shelf. Needed dusting. “Except she could probably come after me legally. Invasion of privacy or something.”

“Darcy wouldn’t do that. Deep down she recognizes that as meddling and annoying as you are, Marie, you—”

“Oh, thanks. Tons.”

“Sure, no problem. She realizes you love her and that’s what motivates you. She wouldn’t lash back at that. Not more than verbally.”

“Which I would deserve.” She went back to her desk and sank into the chair. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Which we would deserve. This is now officially our matchmaking plan. In fact, I’ll call Kim and we’ll make it a threesome idea.”

“No, no. You shouldn’t share blame with me.”

“Who’s talking blame? We’ll want to share the credit. At her wedding.”

Marie laughed. “You really think I should do this?”

“Absolutely. If nothing else it will get her attention. And any picture of her will definitely get the attention of men on the site. Then who knows? Once guys start flocking, she might just decide to give one or more of them a try.”

“That was my hope.” Marie logged onto Milwaukeedates as an administrator. “Okay, you’re convincing me.”

“We’re convincing us. I’m going to call Kim right away. And listen, I’ll do up an outline for the wedding party idea and email it to you by tomorrow or Monday, okay?”

“Love it. Thanks, Candy, on both counts. You’re a gem.”

“Aren’t I? Seriously, I think forcing the issue with Darcy is a great idea. I saw her face when Kim was talking about wedding plans, and boy, look up wistful in the dictionary and there’s her expression.”

“Exactly.” Marie was triumphant now. An enthusiastic ally had made all the difference.

“Speaking of her face, do you have a good picture of her? I might be able to dig one up.”

“I doubt she can take a bad one.” Marie brought up a New Profile page on her computer. “I have the photos I took at the Gladiolas opening. There’s one in particular I remember as stunning.”

“Awesome. That was a great dress she had on!”

“Okay, I’m on this. Thank you, Candy. Say hi to Justin.”

“Say hi to Quinn.”

Marie started, fingers stumbling over the keyboard. Quinn? “How did you know about him?”

Candy snickered. “Kim is my new gossip girl. She told me recently that she saw you two walking when she and Nathan were kayaking last month. Said you looked aw-fully happy.”

“He’s a friend. That’s all.” Marie was very glad Candy couldn’t see her blushing.

“Uh-huh. Right. I believe that. One of these days we’re all going to gang up on you for the matchmaking thing and see how you like it.”

“Ooh, what a threat.”

“You’ve been warned. Oh, and speaking of potentially good gossip, Wednesday night I saw Darcy heading for Esmee Restaurant. I’d just picked up Justin; he was drinking there with Troy. I tried to get Justin to ask if Troy had noticed Darcy—as if any man wouldn’t—and if he noticed who she met up with, but you know men, their priorities are wacked, so Justin hasn’t asked yet.”

“Uh … okay.” Marie’s head was spinning trying to follow that one. “Wait, Darcy and Troy have never met?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes, fingers tapping on the side of her keyboard. Troy. She hadn’t thought of him for Darcy. Too young? Maybe not strong enough? “Let me know what you find out, especially if she’s already got someone.”

“You think she and Troy …?”

“I’m committing to nothing.”

“Well, he’s on the site, too, so you should definitely go ahead with our unethical plan. Oops, Justin’s here. Talk to you soon!”

“Bye.” Marie hung up, feeling slightly breathless, partly from relief she’d dodged further questions about Quinn, and partly because she always felt that way after talking to her warm-hearted whirlwind of a friend.

Candy’s party idea was terrific. Mid-June also brought Marie’s fortieth birthday, something she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to face. But celebrating the love she’d brought to so many couples would be a fitting way to show how rich her life had become and would continue to be.

For a second she imagined what richness her life would hold if Quinn was in it the way she’d come to realize she wanted him to be.

But that was ridiculous daydreaming. Marie had plenty more important things to do than fantasize about something she couldn’t have. She opened her pictures file, searching for the photograph of Darcy she remembered best.

There. Darcy, caught unaware during a quiet moment at Gladiolas’s opening, surveying her restaurant, color high, eyes sparkling, looking about as proud and happy and beautiful as any woman had a right to be.

The men of Milwaukeedates.com weren’t going to know what hit them. And assuming Chaz reacted to her picture the way any sighted, intelligent, straight male would, Darcy wasn’t going to, either.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Put up a profile for Darcy.” Marie’s smile slipped. Something was off tonight. From the moment she’d shown up at their usual Friday-night drink and dinner date here at the Roots Cellar bar in their shared neighborhood of Brewer’s Hill, she and Quinn hadn’t been able to settle into the usual easy camaraderie. She was used to him kidding about her matchmaking efforts, but while he usually reacted with amused exasperation, right now he seemed genuinely annoyed. “And I sent Chaz a Milwaukeedates ‘hello’ supposedly from her, to get the ball rolling.”

“This after she’s said repeatedly that she doesn’t want to date.”

“Jeez, Quinn.” She stared at him, getting annoyed herself, which was a first. She couldn’t remember the two of them having anything but teasing, polite disagreements. Now Quinn wasn’t teasing, and Marie didn’t feel polite. “Haven’t you listened to a thing I’ve told you about Darcy?”

“Sounds like you’re not listening to a thing she’s told you.”

“She does want to date. You should see her talk about men.”

“You mean hear her talk?”

“No, see her.” Marie put down her Prufrock, her favorite Roots specialty drink, and turned on the bar stool, holding herself rigid. “Her whole body goes into terrified-defense mode, like this. Stiff as a board. She’s so afraid to admit what she wants. So afraid someone will figure out she’s human and can be vulnerable. It’s heartbreaking.”