Harlequin - Jennifer Greene by Hot Touch (first ebook reader .TXT) 📗

all her inhibitions blew away when he touched her, as if he were the hottest, sexiest guy ever born. As if she’d never lived until he touched her.

Fox remembered that whole fantasy from when he was sixteen. That’s how he daydreamed it’d be with a girl—but then of course he grew up. Real women took manners. Real women took finesse and care to ignite. They had to know a guy before they could trust him, and it took serious trust for sex to be good.

Well—any sex was better than no sex. But the best stuff was worth taking the time to do right.

With her it was as if someone had created her only for him. She knew just how to taste. Just how to sound. Just how to touch to make his world go dizzy and his mind go daft.

It was so weird. He’d been weak as a kitten for months, yet suddenly he felt powerful enough to move a couple of mountains. For a long, black time, he’d shut off emotion, yet this damned impossible redhead had him thinking about love again. About waking up next to somebody. About being able to weave his fingers through that, long, long silky red hair every night, any night.

“Hey.”

It seemed to be his voice, coming out thicker than molasses, interrupting them. Not hers. He lifted his head. She didn’t lift hers. He was the one stuck doing the honorable thing and inserting a little sanity into this madness. Where the Sam Hill was her common sense? She was giving him five millionyes signals. It was the middle of a Saturday afternoon, for Pete’s sake. Her dogs were sitting there with cocked heads as if they were trying to comprehend the totally strange behavior of the humans. The sun was beating in like a benediction. He was hurting. And God knew, pain wasn’t new, but he hadn’t experienced hurt coming from massive sexual frustration until two minutes ago.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded lowly.

“Huh? Weren’t you the one who suddenly came on to me?”

“But you didn’t stop me.”

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“Like that makes you less guilty for starting this?”

“No. It just makes me completely confused about why you let me kiss you. And why you kissed me back.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her cheeks were punched with color, her eyes hectic bright.

Her hair had been tumbled before, but man, now he’d really made a wreck.

Had she been this breathtaking the first time he’d met her? How come he hadn’t noticed it then?

She averted her eyes. “Fox…I feel bad for you. You’ve been through so much. And you’re still going through a lot of pain.”

“Ah…so the only reason you kissed me back is because you felt sorry for me?”

She wrapped her arms under her chest, tight. “I know…no guy wants to think that a woman pities him.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Butpity isn’t the right word, Fergus…it’s more like compassion.”

“So this is all about compassion?” Fox wondered if she’d ever considered selling heaters in the Amazon.

She gave a little laugh. “Okay. There was more to it than that. I’ll let you in on a problem I have.”

“Sure.”

“Guys often seem to think that I’m really into sex because I’m a masseuse. For me, that’s been a real conundrum. Obviously, I care about people or I wouldn’t have chosen this line of work. But when I touch someone as a masseuse—like I have been with you—it really is about compassion and nothing else. There’s no sexual component at all.”

Fox struggled to get his mind completely off Charlie. He sensed she was trying to tell him something serious, something critically important, but it was hard to concentrate past his hammering need and her handing out this total nonsense. “I’m not sure what you mean here. Are you saying that you didn’t feel anything sexual?”

“It’s not personal,” she assured him. “I’m just trying to be honest. I’m just not a very sexual person. I’m more maternal, I guess.”

“Maternal,” he echoed.

She nodded vigorously. “Which is why I work with babies.”

“Because you’re maternal but not sexual.”

“Exactly,” she said.

Wednesday evening Fox still couldn’t get that conversation out of his mind. He picked up a glass of water, yet quickly forgot to drink, forgot the buzz of his brothers’ conversation in the next room, forgot the homemade lasagna steaming as his mom lifted it from the oven.

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What on earth had Phoebe been trying to sell him? That she didn’t like sex? That she wasn’t a sexual being? That she was just into compassion? Was he supposed to just nod his head and say, oh, sure, horses fly?

Memories kept swirling back. Except for mouth-to-mouth kisses, he’d barely touched her in any intimate way…yet he felt as if he had. And even though he’d been stark naked, she’d only physically touched him above the neck—yet she seemed to touch every emotional chord and hormone he’d ever owned.

So.

He’d already figured out that she was a frightening woman. Unsettling. Unnerving. Unfathomable.

But unsexy?

How could Phoebe conceivably believe that about herself? Why would she want to?

“Fergus, would you pay attention,” his mother said irritably.

Fox mentally jerked himself awake, but still knew that this was a precise measure of what a mess that woman had made of him. His mother was right here, carrying her world-famous lasagna, and yet all he could think about was sex and Phoebe.

Thatwas power.

No wonder he was scared of her.

“I was listening,” he assured his mother. His brothers loped into the kitchen, undoubtedly driven by the same addictive smell of the gourmet dish.

“I was just trying to tell your youngest brother,” his mother said to Bear and Moose, “that people with means simply don’t teach school. And since he doesn’t seem inclined to teach again, this is an ideal opportunity to reconsider other career choices.”

“Okay,” Fox said patiently, “what is it you think would be a better career than teaching?”

His mom’s eyes lit up, thrilled to be asked. Bear and Moose took the