A Stranger's Touch. Tori Carrington

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СКАЧАТЬ him a fleeting smile that made him want to groan, then left him staring after her, even more in need of a woman than he’d been a half hour ago.

      “ARE YOU INSANE?” Dulcy repeatedly splashed water over her face and stared in the rest room mirror at Jena, who was skillfully freshening her lipstick. She felt…anxious, shaken, and one-hundred-percent sober.

      Jena pursed her lips and tried to hand Dulcy her lipstick. “Actually, I was just asking myself the same question. Of you.”

      Dulcy violently yanked paper towels from the holder one after another. “For God’s sake, Jena, you can’t possibly be implying what I think you are.” She realized she’d accumulated a small pile and forced herself to stop, blotting her skin with a handful.

      “What? That you spend your last night as a single woman in the arms of a complete stranger?” Her smile was decidedly wicked. “Absolutely.”

      The flushing of a toilet sounded, then one of the stall doors opened and Marie’s curly red hair sprung into view. She claimed the sink on the other side of Dulcy. “In retrospect, it probably wasn’t a good idea,” said Marie.

      Dulcy slumped against the sink in relief. “Thank you. At least someone sounds reasonably sane.”

      Marie smiled at her in the mirror. “But you have to admit, the guy was downright…tempting.”

      “Native American.”

      Dulcy stared at Jena.

      “What? Didn’t he look Native American?”

      Marie nodded.

      “Not full-blooded, mind you. But he definitely has some of that hot Native American heritage in his background.”

      Dulcy really didn’t want to discuss this. She wadded up the towels and rounded Marie to stuff them into the wastebasket.

      “That’s exactly what I thought,” Marie said, washing her hands and drying them. “All that wonderful brown skin. Those chiseled features. That…that mouth.”

      “He’s not,” Dulcy said, closing her eyes against the seductive image that her friend’s words conjured. “Just because a guy has long dark hair and a great tan doesn’t mean he’s Native American.”

      Jena’s gaze homed in on her in the mirror. “So you did notice what a wowie he was.”

      Dulcy raised her chin. “I’m engaged, not blind, Jena.”

      “Yes, but you’re not married yet.”

      She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m even discussing this with you.” She held up her hand. “No, let me rephrase that. I am through discussing this with you. I am not going to do anything with any strange man just because I’m getting married in a week. Get it?”

      “Got it.”

      “Good.”

      Marie smiled and linked her arm with hers, then Jena hesitantly did the same on the other side of her. “Now that that’s out of the way…let’s go have some fun.”

      FUN. THREE HOURS LATER Dulcy supposed that someone might have found the molten temptation flowing through her veins fun, but she found it downright alarming. A woman in love with the man she was about to marry wouldn’t salivate over another man, would she? She’d always thought love made one blind to all others, no matter how tantalizing…or how much one had had to drink.

      In hindsight, she should have insisted she, Jena and Marie go up to their rooms and settle in with every last item on the room service menu and a pay-per-view movie immediately after the “anonymous male” incident. But she hadn’t. No. Instead, she’d downed more tequila—in moderation—scarfed down more corn chips and a large number of the nachos they’d ordered, and danced until she was sure her feet would fall off.

      And during every single move she was heatedly aware of the stranger watching her from across the room. That is, when she didn’t catch her own gaze plastered to him and his strikingly manly physique.

      Did he have a Native American background? She admitted that with his dark hair and eyes and skin, all made darker still by the intimate lighting in the club, he very well could have. And the contrast between his provocative dark looks and Brad’s handsomely waspish features couldn’t have been more profound.

      Dulcy absently fingered the sexy silk negligée in a box at her elbow, a gift from Marie, and watched a woman approach the man she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from. He’d talked to no fewer than four other women during the course of the night, and danced with two others, but she couldn’t deny her relief when none of them joined him at his table. As if sensing her attention on him, he slid a dark, suggestive glance in her direction, and then led the woman onto the dance floor. She felt as if she were about to swallow her tongue whole when he skimmed his hands down the woman’s back as he pulled her close, even as his gaze was fused with Dulcy’s. Good God…

      “Don’t be such a prude, Marie,” Jena was saying across the table. “Of course it’s all right to bring sex toys into the marriage bed.”

      Dulcy forced herself to pay more attention to her friends, and less to the man who was touching another woman but seemed to be suggesting he’d rather be touching her.

      Marie was twirling a spiked dog collar around her finger. “But there are sex toys…and then there are implements of torture.”

      Jena smiled. “You mean there’s a difference?”

      Dulcy caught herself rubbing her index finger and thumb against the decadent material of the nightgown and forced herself to place the lid back on the box. “I hope you got a receipt for this stuff, Jena,” she said softly, indicating the array of materials that seemed cruel even for a pet.

      “That depends.”

      “On what?”

      “On whether or not you plan on returning the items yourself.”

      Dulcy made a face and peered into the bag in which she’d instantly stuffed the highly wicked items that served as Jena’s gift. “Tell me you got them on the Internet?”

      “Nope. There’s this great little shop downtown I know you’re going to love.”

      Dulcy groaned and snatched the collar from Marie. “I don’t think so.”

      “What’s this one for?” Marie asked, poking at a miniature version of the dog collar about two inches in diameter.

      “Never mind.” Dulcy took that one, too, then put it in the bag with the other items that gave a whole new meaning to the word unmentionables.

      She was aware of the slow song ending, which probably meant another fast song would soon start up. And Jena would undoubtedly pull them up for another fifteen-minute set. Dulcy didn’t think her feet could stand it. She found herself glancing toward the dance floor, only realizing why she’d done so when she spotted the man named Quinn being led off by the woman he’d just danced with. But rather than heading back toward his table, she was navigating a path toward the door and the lobby beyond. Dulcy quickly averted her gaze. She didn’t have to guess where they were heading. СКАЧАТЬ