Hot to the Touch

by Isabel Sharpe

  “Shower later. You and me now…”

  “You smell delicious,” Troy whispered as he kissed Darcy’s bare shoulder, the base of her neck, her throat. “I want you now. No waiting…”

  His hunger grew as he undid his jeans, pushing until they fell to his ankles and then stepping out of them. Finally, 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, mysterious woman. She wasn’t as indifferent as her methodical striptease had suggested.

  His ego swelled along with other parts.

  He was going to make this good for her, good enough to break through that iron control.

  So what if she hadn’t told him anything about herself? She’d tell him plenty with her body by the time this night was over….

  Dear Reader,

  Have you ever locked eyes with a stranger and felt deep emotion you can’t explain away as simple attraction? Given that love develops over time, that it involves two people knowing and accepting each other completely, the concept of love at first sight seems dubious. But how else to explain that intense reaction?

  For beautiful restaurateur Darcy Clark and sexy techguy/triathlete Troy Cahill, the third and final hero and heroine of my Checking E-Males miniseries, this thunderbolt of desire leaves them with no clue how to fit all the new and tempestuous emotions into what they think they know about love and relationships. It was great fun to watch them squirm and try to avoid the obvious truth. Also in this book, our beloved master matchmaker, Marie, owner of Milwaukeedates.com, gets another stab at convincing the charming Quinn Peters that she doesn’t remind him of his sister after all…

  I hope you’ve enjoyed the first two books in this series, Turn Up the Heat and Long Slow Burn, and that you’ll consider Hot to the Touch an appropriate send-off for Candy, Kim, Darcy and Marie. I’ll really miss these women!

  Cheers,

  Isabel Sharpe

  www.IsabelSharpe.com

  Isabel Sharpe

  HOT TO THE TOUCH

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Isabel Sharpe was not born pen in hand like so many of her fellow writers. After she quit work to stay home with her firstborn son and nearly went out of her mind, she started writing. After more than twenty novels for Harlequin—along with another son—Isabel is more than happy with her choice these days. She loves hearing from readers. Write to her at www.IsabelSharpe.com.

  Books by Isabel Sharpe

  HARLEQUIN BLAZE

  11—THE WILD SIDE

  76—A TASTE OF FANTASY*

  126—TAKE ME TWICE*

  162—BEFORE I MELT AWAY

  186—THRILL ME**

  221—ALL I WANT…†

  244—WHAT HAVE I DONE FOR ME LATELY?

  292—SECRET SANTA

  “The Nights Before Christmas”

  376—MY WILDEST RIDE††

  393—INDULGE ME‡

  444—NO HOLDING BACK

  533—WHILE SHE WAS SLEEPING…‡‡

  539—SURPRISE ME…‡‡

  595—TURN UP THE HEAT§

  606—LONG SLOW BURN§

  619—HOT TO THE TOUCH§

  To Sienna, Ruby and Leia,

  who have made life so much cheerier.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “CAN WE TALK ABOUT SOMETHING other than men?” Darcy flipped back her dark hair, an impatient scowl marring her beautiful features. “I think I’m getting heartburn.”

  Across the table, Marie Hewitt watched her carefully. Every month the four of them, restaurant owner and chef Darcy Clark, plus web designer Kim Horton, event planner Candy Graham and herself, CEO of Milwaukeedates.com, gathered for this third-Wednesday breakfast meeting of Women in Power, Milwaukee’s organization of female business owners. Since Marie started her matchmaking campaign in January for her three younger, never-married friends, Candy and Kim had fallen. Candy and Justin Case had become engaged back in February on a wonderful if slightly out of control Valentine’s day. Nathan Alexander had asked Kim to marry him the previous month, on April fifteenth, her thirtieth birthday.

  Until now, Darcy had seemed genuinely thrilled for them, though stubbornly resistant to any and all attempts to entice her into signing up for Marie’s online dating company in order to find her own happiness. Could her sudden irritability have anything to do with envy? Was she finally cracking, and would a little of her suppressed longing for love start oozing out? Marie was counting on that happening eventually. Darcy’s I-hate-men act might fool some people, but the more she saw, the less Marie was buying it.

  “Sorry.” Kim put her hand on Darcy’s arm, eyes warm with contrition. “I know Candy and I are being nauseating going on about wedding plans when we’re all here to talk business. Tell us how life was last month in the restaurant world. Though I keep hearing people raving about Gladiolas so I probably don’t need to ask how it’s doing.”

  “Things are okay.” Darcy settled her coffee mug back on the table. “Do you all remember Raoul?”

  Kim made a disgusted face. “The slimeball you fired? The one who was having the affair with the married waitress, stole from the restaurant and came on to you to try and get professional favors?”

  Darcy nodded grimly. “Yup. That slimeball.”

  “What about him?” Marie went on alert. “He’s not still trying to land you, is he?”

  “Worse. He’s starting his own restaurant. Emphasis on local and organic while keeping prices affordable. A short, seasonal menu and daily specials with whimsical names. Sound familiar?”

  “Sounds exactly like Gladiolas.” Candy looked helplessly furious. “What a scum. That is disgusting.”

  “Ya think?” Darcy shrugged. “Who knows, word has it his investor might back out. I hope so.”

  “We all hope so,” Candy said. “But if he doesn’t, after the restaurant opens we’ll plant roaches and rats in the kitchen, then report Raoul to the health inspector.”

  “Oh, good one.” Kim patted Candy’s shoulder affectionately. “How about I post viciously negative reviews all over the internet?”

  “Very nice, Kim.” Marie smiled her approval. “I’ll book the whole place every night and then cancel at the last minute.”

  “Thanks, guys.” Darcy grinned warmly. It was great to see her smile. She didn’t do so often enough. “Look, I didn’t mean to rain on the wedding parade before. I don’t know where that came from. PMS probably.”

  Marie smirked. PMS? Nuh-uh. Though Darcy would probably be the last to figure it out.

  “No, no, you were absolutely right.” Candy gracefully waved away the apology; Justin’s ring, which he’d planted in a delivery pizza, flashed on her left hand. “We were being disgusting. You and Marie must be ready to scream.”

  “Not me.” Marie pulled off the crisp end of her croissant and spread jam on it. “I’m delighted. And I know Darcy is, too.”

  “Yes. I really am.” Darcy nodded emphatically. “If you guys are happy that’s—”

  “However, she is also ragingly jealous.” Marie bit casually into her pastry, counting down to Darcy’s anticipated explosion. Three…two…one…

  “Jealous!” Darcy cracked up too loudly. “Oh, right. Deep down I really want my own self-cente
red man-child keeping me enslaved for the rest of my life.”

  She laughed again harshly, grabbed her mug and gripped it between her palms as if it was her salvation.

  “Jeez, Darcy.” Candy frowned at her. “Could you turn up the bitterness a little more? I’m not sure it’s coming across.”

  “Nathan and Justin aren’t like that.” Kim’s soft tone was uncharacteristically firm.

  “They’re all like that.” Darcy’s voice broke. She jerked the mug to her lips and took a sip.

  “Not all of them.” Marie spoke gently, heart aching for her friend. Would Darcy ever admit she needed someone in her life to help share her burdens, to help her open up and trust again? Would she ever admit that in the midst of a full and successful life she was isolated and lonely? “With the right man, you’ll never feel that you’re—”

  “No.” Darcy held up her hand. “I’m not going there, Marie. Find someone else if you need to keep foisting women onto lonely men. I like my freedom, making my own decisions. I take care of myself and of Gladiolas. I don’t have time or energy for another guy to make the whole relationship about him and his needs, and to hell with mine.”

  “I understand.” Marie waited a beat, then met Kim’s blue eyes, which were helpless with worry, and Candy’s brown ones, dark with frustration. She smiled reassuringly. They’d get Darcy to fall somehow, sooner or later.

  Maybe not overtly, by making her an appointment at Milwaukeedates.com, the way Marie had been able to with Candy and Kim. Maybe not by making reasonable overtures and putting forth reasonable logic. Some other method.

  The Women in Power president came to the podium and called the room to order. Members finished sentences and cups of coffee, turned their chairs and settled in to pay attention.

  Marie folded her arms on the table, her gaze focused on the back of Darcy’s dark head. There would be some chink, some fault line, some way into the warmth and passion Darcy kept bottled up out of fear, and Marie was going to find it, no matter how much resistance Darcy mustered.

  She lowered her brows thoughtfully, imagining the profile she’d love to put up for Darcy on Milwaukeedates.com. Men would fall all over themselves wanting her. Eventually the right one would come along, a man strong and secure enough to let Darcy be the woman she needed to be, if only Darcy would give him a chance.

  The president introduced the morning’s speaker and with the applause the glimmer of an idea rose into Marie’s mind and floated enticingly, even as she knew she’d have to reject it for ethical reasons.

  Though when it came to Darcy, maybe ethics were beside the point. Maybe the only way Marie could win this battle against stubborn denial was to get stubborn herself. Stubborn and persistent.

  Stubborn, persistent and willing to fight dirty.

  1

  “RADISHES.” DARCY TAPPED HER PENCIL on the gleaming wooden bar, made from salvaged Wisconsin oak. Her thoughts were drifting from Gladiolas’s emptying dining room around her to the side dish she was imagining for her restaurant’s summer menu, though it being merely the end of May in Wisconsin, summer seemed depressingly far away. Sauteed radishes, smoothed with butter, accented with salt and chives. And something else…sugar snap peas for color, texture and to balance the slight bite with sweetness. Or would a complementing strong taste be better, to deepen the flavor? Chard? Watercress?

  “Radishes sound perfect for my mood.”

  Darcy snapped out of her vegetable reverie and squinted at Amy Walker, her dining room manager. “What mood, crunchy?”

  “Round and bitter.” Amy tipped back the last of the cup of coffee she never seemed to be without. Her plump body was slumped onto her stool, her short, flaming red ponytail shedding strands that hung around her cheeks.

  “Bitter? I like that. Maybe we can use that in a menu name. ‘Love failed me—I’m bitter.’ A pork dish with bitter orange, a side of greens and radishes, something like that.” She made a few notes on a paper in front of her, then remembered they were talking about Amy. “Sorry, my brain went AWOL. Why are you bitter? Not Colin…”

  “He hasn’t called for two days or answered my emails. I’m thinking I’ve worked my Amy-magic again and am being dumped.”

  “No way.” Darcy felt familiar anger churn in her stomach. Yes, she had issues, but it was hard to work through them when men kept providing more and more examples of selfish behavior. “I thought this guy was really into you.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Amy laughed harshly. “And they say women play mind games and are hard to figure out.”

  “I’m sorry. But you know men. They have a completely bizarre concept of time. He’ll reappear when you least expect it, without a clue he’d left you hanging.” Darcy pushed her untouched glass of chardonnay over to her friend, and signaled their handsome, burly bartender, Jeff, to get her another. “In the meantime, drink away your sorrows, honey. At least alcohol is dependable.”

  “And a depressant.” Amy lifted the glass anyway and took a healthy swallow. “I don’t know. It’s too easy to blame men. Sometimes I think it’s just me, Ms. Man-Poison.”

  “You are not—”

  “No, really, I’m serious. I think there’s something about me that horrifies them. Until I find out what that is, maybe there’s no point looking anymore. I’m thinking of giving up.”

  “No.” Darcy held up a hand for emphasis. “I’m the cynical, damaged one. I’m the one headed for a life of questionable hygiene, living alone in a ramshackle house overrun with cats. Not you.”

  “Maybe.” Amy fingered the stem of her wineglass, eyes down. “I want to find a guy who accepts me, warts and all, who’ll consciously work on the relationship and compromise when necessary, someone for whom my happiness is nearly as important as his. Because that’s exactly what I’d do for him.”

  “Oh, that guy!” Darcy accepted her new wine from Jeff. “I know exactly where he is.”

  “Where?” Amy lifted a skeptical brow.

  “Hanging out with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny!”

  Amy snorted. “I know, I know. But I can’t totally crush hope the way you have. I wish I could. It would save me a lot of trouble and a lot of pain. I really thought Colin would hang around. Of course I probably thought that about all of them at one time.”

  “Uh…yeah.” Darcy nudged her affectionately. “Didn’t we all.”

  “It’s just that it can happen, out of the blue, when you least expect it. My sister met her husband on her millionth blind date, sick to death of trying to find someone, and they were both struck stupid with love the second they saw each other. They’re still wildly happy.”

  “Because they’re stupid. You said it yourself.”

  Amy finally loosened up enough to let out her trademark cascade of giggles. “I did. Now enough of my whining. Back to your radishes.”

  “Nah.” Darcy lifted her glass, irritated by the story of Amy’s sister. People who were disgustingly goopy like that made her sick. Or jealous. Sometimes she wasn’t sure which. “Forget the radishes for now. We need to cheer you up first.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Ooh, I know. Ken, the new Lenson’s sales rep, came by this morning with industry gossip.” Darcy sipped her wine. She’d stick to the gossip that had been pleasant. The rest had been eating at her all day. “The new place down National near Fourth Street? Esmee? The chef is Lebanese. He’s supposedly giving the usual bar food an innovative Middle Eastern kick. Want to check it out? Get your mind off Colin?”

  “Oh, that would be—” Amy’s cell rang with the theme to Love Story. She fished it out of her pocket and gasped at the display. “It’s him.”

  “Ha!” Darcy smacked the bar with her palm, wanting to tell Amy not to answer it. “Told you he’d show up.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Amy took a deep breath, smoothing her hair, and connected the call. “Hey, Colin! How are you? Good. Yes, I’m fine. But I was worried, since I haven’t heard—”

  Darcy shook her head urgently. Rule num
ber one: never let a guy think you’ve been sitting around waiting for his call.

  Amy cringed and nodded understanding. “Heard from my family in a while and was thinking you were one of them checking in.”

  Darcy gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Uh-huh. As far as I know. Oh, tonight?” She looked pleadingly at Darcy. “I’m, um…”

  Darcy shook her head again, hard enough that her bobbed hair flew out nearly horizontal. Rule number two: Never be immediately available to a guy who hasn’t been available to you.

  “I’d love to.” Amy spoke firmly, turning away from Darcy who rolled her eyes. “I’ve really missed you.”

  Darcy let out a sound of disgust purposely loud enough for Amy to hear.

  “Yes. I know where that is. Okay. Yes. See you in a few.” She shut her phone with a soft sigh. “Amy. At least pretend you haven’t been panting after his call for—”

  “I know.” She held up a hand to stop Darcy’s lecture. “I know.”

  “Seriously, if you want men to stop taking you for granted…” She tried to soften the frustration in her voice. “You have to show them you’re worth better treatment.”

  “Yes. But as I said, I have really missed him.” She slid off the stool and squeezed Darcy’s shoulder. “You’re right. I know you are. In a week or a month I’ll be miserable over him again. I just—”

  “Have really missed him.”

  “Wow, how did you know?” Amy looked like a different person, cheeks flushed, eyes snapping excitement. Even her hair had revived.

  “Wild guess.” Darcy managed a smile. “Go. Have fun. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Undoubtedly. And I’ll be screwed over in the end. It’s what men do to me. Then you can say, ‘Ha-ha, told you so,’ and watch in amazement at my masochistic stupidity while I proceed to do it all again with someone else.”