A Stranger's Touch

by Tori Carrington

  Dulcy rocked slightly in her chair, feeling much better now than she had earlier this morning. She would feel even better if not for the restless awareness lurking just beneath her skin. The heat crept up on her when she least expected it, like now, when she took a moment to glance away from what she was doing and her mind hiccuped.

  Truth be told, that same heat had been there for a long time—a scalding, alarming heat that one red-hot night with Quinn had only served to heighten. If not for him, and the unleashing of those needs, she might believe herself the same person she was a few days ago. The practical, sensible woman who chose corporate law over domestic cases like that she’d encountered this morning. The fiancée of a man dozens of women would kill to be marrying in six days. A woman basically satisfied with her life, who didn’t spend every spare moment wondering if she’d been missing out on a whole different world of sexual wonder that she’d experienced with Quinn.

  Dulcy sighed and dropped her head into her hands. Okay, two seconds and she’d basically undone three hours’ worth of psychological reconstruction. She glanced at her watch and snatched up the telephone receiver, pressing the button that would put her straight through to Brad’s private office line at Wheeler Industries. Four rings later she received his voice-mail announcement. She frowned, realizing it was the same one he’d recorded before leaving the office last Friday. She slowly replaced the receiver. That’s funny. Brad was due back from a golf date at his country club late last night. And surely he would have been in the office this morning. In fact, she was convinced he was, because he’d told her about an important board meeting scheduled for nine. Maybe that was it. He’d gotten caught up and hadn’t had a chance to update his voice-mail message.

  She plucked up the receiver again and dialed the official office number, only to be told he hadn’t made it in this morning.

  “Is this Miss Ferris?”

  Dulcy frowned into the phone. Brad’s secretary had never addressed her directly in the five months since she’d started calling.

  “Yes, Jenny, it is. If you could just ask him to give me a call when he gets in, I’d—”

  “Well, that’s just it, Miss Ferris,” the woman said, lowering her voice in that gossipy way that Dulcy heard around coffee machines but never dared participate in. “You see, I don’t know if Mr. Wheeler will be coming in this morning, or ever again.”

  Dulcy switched the phone to her other ear and pulled a file in front of her, reminding herself why she didn’t participate in office gossip. So much of it resembled what was splashed across the supermarket tabloids—a sort of scandal sheet for everyday people. “What do you mean you don’t know if he’ll be coming in this morning? Has he called? Left a message?” She decided to ignore the “or ever” comment.

  A mild ruckus came from the direction of the waiting area. Dulcy listened to Brad’s secretary with half an ear as she craned her neck to get a look outside her door.

  “…You see, Mr. Wheeler’s missing.”

  The words registered just as Dulcy spotted one very coiffed, very irate Beatrix Wheeler, Brad’s mother, going nose-to-nose with an equally determined Mona.

  “What do you mean I need an appointment? I don’t need an appointment to see my own daughter-in-law to be. Do you know who I am?” Beatrix was saying in her best born-to-be-queen voice.

  The telephone receiver clattered to the desktop. Dulcy scrambled to pick it up, mumbled something incoherent into the mouthpiece, then managed to hang up. She rose from her chair and smoothed her skirt, anticipating the moment Beatrix would make her way to her office. She began to edge around the desk, her new position giving her a wider view of the waiting area and the dark, brooding man standing behind Beatrix.

  Oh my God…Quinn.

  Naughty, hot, erotic images slid through her mind, one after the other, setting her nerve endings on fire. Suddenly she was all too aware of the conservative cut of her business suit…and the decadent underwear Marie had given her as a wedding present underneath. Underwear she had sworn when she opened the box that she wouldn’t wear, but which she didn’t hesitate to put on this morning, even though it was meant for her honeymoon.

  Her knees gave out. She frantically grabbed for her desk to keep from crumbling to the floor in a heap, and instead knocked her pencil holder and clock from the surface.

  The racket quieted the standoff in the other room. Dulcy watched Beatrix glance her way, then swivel as if turning on the enemy. Dulcy watched her approach as she shakily ran her hands over the carpet in search of the dropped items. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She knows. She knows. Brad knows. She knows, Brad knows, and the wedding’s been called off. Finally her fingers butted against the clock. She fumbled to pick it up, then unsteadily got to her feet, her back to the door. She briefly closed her eyes and said a little prayer, then slowly turned to face evil incarnate in the shape of Beatrix Wheeler, ignoring the devil in blue jeans standing next to her looking as shocked as she felt.

  “What did you do with my son?” Beatrix demanded.

  WELL, AIN’T THAT A BITCH.

  Quinn Landis couldn’t have felt more stunned had a fifteen-hand Appaloosa fallen from the sky and landed right on his head.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell…not even a remote possibility…this couldn’t be…

  But even as he stood outside the office and stared first at the nameplate that heralded the woman inside as Dulcy Ferris, then at the woman he knew as Dee—scrumptious, insatiable, provocative Dee—he knew that there was a chance that, yes, indeed, the two were one and the same.

  He stepped a little more firmly into the doorway, planting his feet shoulder-width apart and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets. Dee’s—Dulcy’s gaze skid to him, then retreated, her cheeks fire-engine red, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped the crystal desk clock she held.

  So, Quinn, tell me, how does it feel to know you screwed your best friend’s bride-to-be? he asked himself.

  “What?” Dulcy stuttered.

  For a moment, Quinn was afraid he’d said the words aloud. Then he realized she hadn’t direction the question at him, but rather at Beatrix Wheeler.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Ferris, but the woman was quite insistent.” Mona, who’d gone up against Beatrix in the waiting room seemed to indicate she was all for trying again. Especially when Beatrix glared at her and mumbled something under her breath.

  Dulcy distractedly waved her hand. “It’s all right, Mona.”

  Beatrix looked a breath away from pouncing on the pretty blonde. Then she smiled. Which was ten times worse than any frown and just as deadly. She smoothed down the front of her wool-blend jacket. “Sorry, dear, that didn’t come out quite the way I intended.”

  Quinn grimaced, watching as the Wheeler family matriarch put on her best predatory suit of armor.

  “Brad. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you, Dulcy?” Beatrix asked.

  “If he’s not at the office or at his condo…well, then, no, I don’t know where he could be.” Her gaze slid to Quinn’s. “I haven’t even seen him since Friday.”

  Beatrix crossed her arms over her formidable chest. At nearly six feet, she was tall, broad, and would have been imposing, even without the wealth and power she’d been born with and wielded like a fine-edged sword.

  “I don’t mean to insinuate anything, dear, but, coincidentally, our information has it that that’s when Brad disappeared.”

  Someone rammed into Quinn from behind. He shifted to allow the person to pass.

  “Excuse me,” a woman said, skirting him.

  “What’s going on in here?” Another voice, another collision. Quinn sighed and stepped off to the side in case anyone else cared to join the group.

  The women he knew as Jena and Marie seemed to see him at the same time he recognized them. Marie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my.”

  Jena, on the other hand, looked over the situation at hand and a decidedly devilish twinkle entered her eyes. “Well, this is intere
sting.”

  Dulcy crossed the room, passing right in front of Quinn. He told himself not to breath in her scent, to shut off his brain entirely when it came to Dulcy Ferris. But then the aroma of bananas—bananas?—reached his nose and he couldn’t help taking a deep breath.

  “No, no,” Dulcy said urgently to Jena, giving her a quelling look. “Mrs. Wheeler’s just told me that Brad’s missing.”

  “What?” Marie exclaimed.

  “I didn’t say he was merely missing. I came to see what you did to him—” Beatrix cleared her throat. “If you knew where he might be. It’s just so unlike him to be so irresponsible.”

  Dulcy swung on her heels so fast, she nearly toppled over. Quinn automatically reached out to steady her, his fingers hot against her cool arms left bare by her sleeveless blouse. He didn’t imagine her shiver. And he was hard-pressed to ignore his own immediate response to her. He released her so quickly she nearly fell again.

  Jena made a sound of disapproval. “Do you have evidence of Dulcy’s involvement in Brad’s vanishing, Mrs. Wheeler? Because if you don’t, you’re giving me some primo evidence for a case of false accusation.”

  “False accusation? Why you little—”

  Dulcy stepped between the two women and held her hands in a T shape for time-out. “Hold on a minute here. I’m not even sure what’s happening and we’re filing cases already?” She paced one way, then the next. “Mrs. Wheeler, why don’t we all go into the conference room where we can discuss this calmly and maturely. Despite what you might be thinking right now, I did not have anything to do with Brad’s disappearance. For God’s sake, until five minutes ago I didn’t even know he was missing. But if there’s anything I can do to help find him, then of course I’m eager to try.”

  Quinn crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring Marie’s frequent glances his way as if she was trying to put two and two together. He moved to shake his head, but she opened her mouth first. “First things first. I want to know what he’s got to do with any of this.”

  Dulcy’s gaze flew to his face and all the color that was there moments before drained from her skin.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Beatrix said. “That’s Quinn Landis, Brad’s best friend and the man who’s going to stand up for him at his wedding.”

  Dulcy made a strangled sound deep in her throat, but Jena’s laugh covered it. “He’s the best man?”

  Dulcy glared at her, Quinn grimaced and Beatrix raised her chin. “Yes, as much as the fact displeases me, he is.” She sighed dramatically. “Now, can we please get to the issue at hand? My son is missing and I, for one, would like to find him.”

  “Of course you would,” Dulcy said, touching the older woman’s arm. She immediately drew back when she saw the gesture was unwelcome. “Why don’t we all step into the conference room?”

  5

  OKAY, THE FLOOR JUST MOVED—Dulcy was sure of it. Was New Mexico on a fault line? She couldn’t remember ever having experienced an earthquake, but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be a first time, did it? She sat at the conference table and put pressure on her feet to try to stop the movement. It didn’t work.

  The southwestern-style conference room was jam-packed with people. In addition to Jena, Marie and Barry, Beatrix had brought in a meaty-looking guy she referred to as Bruno, the head of security at Wheeler Industries. Mona found reason to enter the room frequently, be it to deliver water, coffee, tea or pastries, aim glares in Beatrix’s direction.

  But it was Quinn’s presence that undid Dulcy.

  Somehow he’d managed to procure the chair right next to hers. Although he hadn’t looked directly at her during the past forty-five-minute discussion, she was aware of his presence. She hadn’t remembered him being so…large. Even sitting, he towered over her by a good half a foot. And his hands… She swallowed deeply, watching where he wrote something down in a pocket notebook. His fingers were long, thick and tanned, backs peppered with springy dark hair. The same fingers that had stroked her, teased her and slid up into her waiting slick body only a scant couple of days ago, making her say wanton things she never would have dreamed of saying.

  A little sound escaped her. Quinn shifted in his chair until those rich brown eyes were staring directly into hers. Dulcy’s throat closed so tight she wondered if she’d ever be able to swallow again.

  Her gaze skittered away and back to the conference table. Only she would find a way to spend the only reckless night of her life with the one man she shouldn’t: Brad’s best man. Gave a whole new meaning to the term.

  She reached for the water pitcher to fill her glass. Avid conversation went on around her, the participants needing very little input from her, thank God. Her hand shook so much that the pitcher of ice and water rattled. Marie reached out from her other side and took it from her, then poured water into her glass. Dulcy ignored her friend’s probing gaze, then smiled her thanks as she lifted the glass to her lips with first one hand, then both.

  Barry leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. Before they’d entered the room, Barry had suggested that it might be better to let him and Jena and Marie handle the meeting, seeing as she was so close to the situation. Dulcy readily agreed, relieved that she wouldn’t be facing this alone and infinitely glad she had all three of them on her side.

  “So the police haven’t been contacted,” Barry said now.

  Beatrix looked affronted. “Of course the police haven’t been contacted. Do you know what the media would do if they caught a whiff of anything newsworthy going on in the Wheeler family, Mr. Lomax? We have stockholders to think about. Employees. Contracts.”

  Dulcy felt light-headed, barely registering that the only person Beatrix appeared to speak to civilly was Barry. The Wheeler family matriarch seemed barely able to keep herself from scratching Dulcy’s eyes out, despite her carefully arranged smiles and use of endearments. Then there was Quinn. She bestowed a steely stare on him whenever he dared ask a question or contribute to the conversation.

  “We take care of our own,” the meaty guy named Bruno said from where he stood behind Beatrix.

  Jena rolled her eyes. “God, you sound like something out of a really bad B movie.” She pulled her yellow legal pad closer to her. “Okay, enough talking. It’s time to get down to business. And I think the first thing we have to do is contact the police.”

  Quinn’s jeans-clad thigh made contact with Dulcy’s leg under the table, the denim soft against her bare skin since she hadn’t been able to bring herself to put on stockings that morning. Something similar to a bolt of lightning jolted through her. She pushed her chair back so quickly it nearly fell over. “Excuse me, but I need some air.”

  Marie appeared ready to come after her, but Jena stayed her with a hand on her arm, then continued the argument as to why they should contact the police. Dulcy stumbled out of the room and made her way to the restrooms on the other side of the waiting area. Only when she was inside the ladies’ room did she stop. Actually, she did more than stop: she collapsed back against the tan-and-brown ceramic-tiled wall and gulped air.

  Brad was missing. She’d had sex with his best man. Heart-pounding, breath-stealing hot sex. And if Beatrix Wheeler had her way, she’d be put behind bars for the rest of her life.

  Then again, given the dim future that lay ahead of her, maybe prison gray wasn’t all that unappealing.

  What was going on? Three days ago she’d been a blushing bride-to-be who’d had little to worry about except whether her bridesmaids’ dresses would be delivered on time and what flavor icing she wanted on her cake.

  Oh boy, what a difference a reckless night could make.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. She should have refused to go to that damn bar. She should have listened to Brad and insisted they take Beatrix along. If she had, then she would have known Quinn was Brad’s often talked about but never met best friend and best man, and would never have given herself over to the bad-girl who’d taken po
ssession of her body.

  Think, she ordered herself. Think. Preferably of something other than him.

  When was the last time she’d seen Brad? What had he said to her? Well, aside from suggesting she invite Beatrix to the bachelorette party? The sound of her swallowing echoed through the empty lavatory. Thursday night. Yes, that was it. She’d met him at Seasons for dinner next to Old Town. But he hadn’t stayed for the entrée. In fact, she remembered thinking he looked a little edgy when their appetizers had arrived. He kept looking at his watch and smoothing his neat blond hair. She remembered this clearly because she had spent that day wondering if she was doing the right thing by marrying him. A small case of cold feet, she’d told herself. But she’d relaxed the moment she met him outside the restaurant. Brad Wheeler was, as Marie had so eloquently pointed out, one grade A hottie. It was more than just his good looks. He never smiled, he grinned. And she didn’t think there was a single person out there who didn’t like him on sight. He was one of those guys who dominated a room the moment he entered it and made you feel comfortable and even flattered that he would choose you to talk to.

  Then there was Quinn. Her chest tightened. Where Brad was all brightness and light, Quinn was a dark, mysterious presence with his black hair and dark eyes. Like a shadow that tempted you nearer, then sucked you in entirely the instant you got too close. He had the mouth of a saint, the hands of a sinner. And, Lord help her, despite everything, she still wanted him with an intensity that made her want to whimper.

  “Case of the guilts?” a deep male voice said quietly.

  Dulcy jumped so high she was surprised she didn’t hit her head on the ceiling. She popped open her eyes to stare at where Quinn stood inside the ladies’ room, his shoulder propped against the closed door, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black jeans. She hadn’t heard him come in. Then again, she wouldn’t have noticed if a herd of elephants had gone stampeding through the room.