Touch Me

by Sahara Kelly

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Touch Me

  ISBN 9781419919923

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Touch Me Copyright © 2009 Sahara Kelly

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication May 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  TOUCH ME

  Sahara Kelly

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

  Harley: H-D Michigan, Inc.

  Ritz: Ritz-Carlton Hotel Co. Touch Me

  Chapter One

  “Sunstone. Nice name for a store.” Delilah Jackson wandered through rainbows. “Does it mean anything?”

  Eden Morell nodded. “It’s about the warmth of sunshine and the rock that’s the foundation of my life right now.” She paused. “Sunrock sounded too Neolithic.”

  “Or too Fred Flintstone.” Fenella Whitfield turned an amethyst geode over in her hand, watching purple fire dart from its center.

  Laughter rang out, surprising Eden yet again. She was truly blessed to have met these incredible people, four writers of romance novels, four soul mates, four women who shared her love of the written word albeit in different ways and styles.

  Dee’s western romances were hotter than the desert sun, while Dini’s sci-fi adventures were kick-ass exciting. Fenny’s murder mysteries were definitely can’t-put-it-down type novels and Stella’s legal thrillers snapped sharply at the shins of those who held the law in their hands.

  And then there was the strong sexual component, something that could easily be described as erotic, but wrapped as it was within strong tales with vibrant characters? No. It was simply part and parcel of the passion developing throughout their books.

  As she’d done more than a few times since she’d met them, Eden asked herself if that’s what was missing from her stories. And whether she had the skill to put it in.

  The rainbows of light from the many crystals hanging in Sunstone’s windows danced over Dini’s short blonde hair, turning her into a magically petite creature. Her throaty chuckle of glee when she found a carved dragon spitting fire at a chained maiden didn’t exactly fit the delicate image she presented, but that was Dini.

  Eden was growing to love them all.

  Dee—bold and courageous, unafraid to speak her mind but the first to hug when a hug was needed. Fenny—ladylike and elegant, yet possessed of a strongly protective nature when it came to her friends. And the dirtiest sense of humor Eden had ever run into. Dini? Well, Dini was unique. A little crazy, a little naughty and totally secure in her own individuality. She was almost exactly like her successful comic strip creation, Steampunk Suzie. Uninhibited, adventurous and so much fun to be around. Now that she had found herself a man—a cop no less—Dini’s smile would turn surprisingly gentle at times. Eden envied her that.

  And Stella—she and Eden were the newbies in this elite group, but never made to feel that way. Stella was sharp, edgy, brilliant and outspoken. And yet even she had found a new road that allowed her to open up and reveal some unexpected facets of her personality.

  There was something, mused Eden as she watched them, some bond that they’d forged, some sisterhood thing that might have originated in their writing but had surpassed it with their friendship.

  It was a gift. And not one to be taken lightly. She sighed.

  “What’s up, honey?” Fenny was leaning on the counter.

  “Nothing.” Eden smiled. “I’m just contemplating how fortunate I am to know you all.”

  Dee snorted. “You haven’t seen Fenny on a tear yet. Give her a few shots of tequila and the next thing you know she’s declared war on the Lesser Antilles.”

  “And she’s going to let me do the bombing.” Dini nodded enthusiastically.

  “What’s wrong with the Lesser Antilles?”

  “Nothing at all.” Fenny shrugged. “It was just easier to say after that damn tequila than…um…Lichtenstein.”

  “But I can still do the bombing, right?” Dini looked like a bloodthirsty elf.

  Dee giggled. “Ignore her, Eden. Jonas took her out to the Bomb Squad’s practice range or whatever they call it. She’s been on cloud nine ever since.”

  “Yes, yes—” Dini bounced excitedly. “It was wonderful, Eden. They were all so nice to me. They let me see all the different kinds of bombs they defuse. They’ve got a mass of signatures in their database and one nice man bought me coffee and told me everything I ever needed to know about C4 and Semtex. You should see my notes. I’m set for at least four more novels.”

  Eden blinked. “Well. Wow. That must have been something, Dini.”

  “And you know what was the kicker? They want to make Suzie their mascot. Isn’t that fabulous?” Dini folded her hands to her chest and sighed with much fluttering of eyelashes.

  “You wanton wench.” Dee grinned wickedly. “You seduced them all, didn’t you? A smile here? A touch of the hand there?”

  “Oh no.” Dini assumed an innocently surprised look. “Me? Of course not. Jonas was right beside me the whole time. He’ll tell you.” Her lips quirked. “If the nice men wanted to talk a little about Suzie and get a few autographs—and a picture or two—well, it was a way for me to say thank you.”

  “Of course, dear.” Fenny patted her shoulder maternally. “We all know how polite and kind you are.” She slanted a glance down at Dini. “And that you probably left ‘em drooling, hard as nails and ready to go jerk off behind a bunker.”

  Dini giggled wickedly. “I do hope so.”

  Dee shook her head. “See? A wench if ever there was one.”

  Dini curtseyed. “Thank you.” She tapped a finger on her lips. “And you know, I was thinking…maybe I’ll get some stickers made for those really boring helmets those guys wear. Suzie in one of their protective suits—unzipped of course, gotta have some cleavage showing—” She turned to Stella. “I can do that, right?”

  Stella, who was delightedly shaking a snow globe with a baby dragon coiled on top of it, nodded. “Sure can, hon. You’ve got copyright to Suzie. I told you that.”

  “Just checking.” Dini nodded her thanks.

  “Stella, how’s your sister? Calliope?” Eden noted Stella’s interest in the little dragon.

  Stella rolled her eyes. “The same. I swear if I could ever get that girl to pay attention to herself she’d find a nice man and have herself some fun!”

  Dini
laughed. “I could introduce her to some really neat demolition experts.”

  “Nice idea.” Fenny wandered around. “Eden, I have to say you’ve created a really super place here.”

  “Oh. Er, thanks Fenny.” Eden blushed.

  “No, I’m serious.” She stopped in front of a display of crystals. “Sometimes these kinds of stores—well, you walk in and immediately wish you’d had tofu burgers for lunch, or that you knew which planet was in your ascendant and had straightened your chakra that morning. Know what I mean?”

  “Or you get looked at like they’re assessing your aura and it’s failing dismally,” Dee chimed in. “For those of us with little or no knowledge of that stuff, it can be intimidating.” She snickered. “I’m not the sort of person to worry whether these pants make my chi look fat.”

  “Don’t get any of those vibes here, Eden. That’s what I’m saying.” Fenny returned to the counter and watched as Eden continued mixing and measuring various compounds.

  “I’m so glad.” She tipped some herbs into a little muslin bag, sealed it, then wrapped it in sparkly tissue. “I wanted a touch me store. Yes, there’s a lot of glass and I’d get more than a bit pissed off if someone threw a stone through the window, but these things—they’re mostly what nature’s created. They’re meant to be touched, felt, sniffed—appreciated, I guess.”

  “Like that?” Fenny nodded at the growing pile of tiny packages. “Ground bat gizzards?”

  “Of course.” Eden chuckled. “Not. They’re fragrance sachets. Herbs for relaxation to put under your pillow. Herbs for stimulation—”

  “To put under your mattress?” Stella’s mouth curved into a wide grin.

  Eden blushed. “Er, well I recommend you put ‘em near your workstation. I have others for that kind of stimulation.”

  “You do?” The chorus was nearly unanimous.

  Eden rolled her eyes. “Guys, they’re herbs. They give off a scent that some people find pleasant. They do not—I repeat—do not do a damn thing for your sex life. You do that, not something that smells pretty.”

  “Shit.” Stella looked disappointed.

  “Oh, like your sex life needs any help.” Dee flashed a wicked grin at Stella.

  “You can talk, baby.” Stella stuck out her tongue at Dee.

  “Girls.” Fenny shook her head at them. “Behave or you won’t get cookies at recess.”

  “Since we’ve gotten around to the topic of sex…” Eden interrupted the incipient uproar with a quiet diversionary comment.

  “As we always do,” grinned Fenny.

  Eden took a breath. “I have a question.”

  Dini unstoppered a bottle and sniffed. “Mmm. Nice. I like.” She put the stopper back and prowled on. “Ask away, Eden. I recommend inserting tab A into slot B, of course, and repeating as necessary. For starters anyway.”

  Eden rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t my question, Dini, but thanks for the tip. I’ll make a note.”

  “What was your question?” Dee cocked her head interestedly.

  Eden looked at them, four women, so different yet sharing so many experiences common to everyone who’d ever hooked a bra or snagged a hole in a pair of pantyhose. If she couldn’t ask them, who could she ask?

  “How hard is it to write sex?”

  —

  Eden stretched as the chimes on her door rang and the last of her customers left. It had been a long day even though it had started on the right note with a surprise visit from her friends.

  She’d gotten some useful information too.

  “It’s just writing what you feel when you have sex, only in the words of your characters, Eden.” Fenny had answered her more succinctly than the others and that was the phrase that Eden had been chewing over while she worked.

  “Go find yourself a nice guy, doll.” Dee had thrown in her two cents. “Rumple the sheets for a while. Let loose. Then shoo him out and write it all down.”

  Eden chuckled to herself as she tidied the counter and automatically put away the fragrance essence bottles in their correct places. If only they knew.

  There was a flaw in the whole thing, she realized. She didn’t really enjoy sex. She loved the cuddling and the contact and the kissing—but after that? It didn’t do much for her. If she was lucky and the planets were aligned, she might—might—have an orgasm.

  But most of the time? Meh.

  Which was why she’d avoided adding much heat to her medical-themed romances. They sold well, and her technical knowledge was invaluable. Not every romance had to include erotic episodes, thank God.

  A challenging medical case, a solid back story and some interesting characters, a few passionate kisses…she was good to go. But of late, her editor had urged her to up the heat level, get those interesting characters naked and give her readers a little more than mystery amongst the IV tubes and heart monitors. Get with the times, she was told. It’s about sex, Eden.

  Trouble was, Eden wasn’t about the sex.

  And that was something she hadn’t had the nerve to share with the girls. They’d left as more customers arrived, Dee with a hug and a kiss, Dini with a handful of candles. Fenny had grinned and told her not to forget their wine evening next week and Stella had blown her a kiss on the way out after a last longing look at the snowglobe with the baby dragon on it.

  Eden was going to put him aside. Stella, she knew, was waiting for word on her latest submission. When she got the thumbs up, Eden would give it to her as a little souvenir. Friends did stuff like that for friends.

  Maybe over the wine next week, she could pick their brains some more. About sex. Eden snorted to herself and grabbed a dust cloth, heading over to the window display. There was an hour or so until she closed, so she might as well use the time taking care of some chores.

  With her three years of medical school and many more spent absorbing the intricacies of holistic medicine, it was utterly surprising that she was still so ignorant about the wonders of sexual intercourse.

  She knew the nuts and bolts. She could name the organs involved, the autonomic reflexes that caused orgasmic spasms and probably still pick out the various areas of the cerebral cortex where activity diminished during the sexual arousal process. That was medicine.

  She might have turned her back on it long ago, but it lingered nevertheless.

  However, she still considered herself a bit of a failure in the groaning-screaming-eye-rolling department. She wasn’t frigid—her vibrator worked just fine. But that was oddly clinical, impersonal and more like a pleasantly sating workout than a sexual experience. The one time she’d tried it with candles and a Barry White CD, she’d felt like an idiot and spent most of her private masturbation moments worrying she’d fall asleep and the house would burn down while Barry urged her to “get it on”. It hadn’t been the best self-induced orgasm in the world either.

  The setting sun turned her crystals to fire as she absently whisked off dust particles and left them gleaming. Without realizing it, Eden’s thoughts turned to her brief marriage. Eddie Morell had been the man of her dreams, or so she’d thought. Star of the University of Florida football team, he’d swept her off her feet and into a whirlwind affair.

  Had she enjoyed sex then? Well, sort of. It was Eddie. She’d been passionately in love with him and that made it all wonderful. Didn’t it?

  Eden sighed. Looking back on it now, she acknowledged that it hadn’t been fireworks in bed with Eddie either. It was the love she felt for him that put the shine on the sex. The horniest she’d ever felt was when she’d been pregnant. And of course, in the natural fucked-up way of things, Eddie hadn’t wanted to touch her after she started showing.

  Closing her eyes, Eden pushed away the memories that clawed at her heart. She’d never fully reclaim that piece of her that died with tiny Mattie. Nor would she ever forgive Eddie for walking away when she was so desperately in need of comfort.

  She sighed. It was over, many years had passed and she’d moved on. Only now and again did she
experience a few moments when grief pushed past her carefully erected barriers. She’d learned to live with it as too many other mothers did.

  The medical profession, one she’d chosen for her own life’s path, had failed Mattie. So she’d decided then and there, it wasn’t for her. Thank God she’d stumbled into the world of holistic health.

  Eden’s world had changed, unexpectedly and tragically, but she’d come to terms with it, deciding that if she couldn’t cure people with technology and pharmaceuticals, perhaps she could help them achieve good health in other ways.

  And sex? She could take it or leave it. She’d dated a little, but the weight she’d put on since college left her in doubt when it came to her own sex appeal. Added to her less-than-enthusiastic opinion about the whole thing—well, she knew it wasn’t surprising she hesitated to start writing hot sex into her novels.

  “So, Eden. How the hell do you write hot sex when you have no frickin’ clue what that is?” She posed the question to her reflection in a round Victorian gazing ball.

  Her store sparkled and glittered in the deep reds and yellows of the sunset. Her crystals glowed, her jars of herbs and bottles of essences shone brilliantly. Flashes of light careened from glass to prism, creating a visual spectrum of beauty that was breathtaking.

  But not a single thing answered Eden’s question.

  And then she turned as she heard a loud throaty growl in the street outside the bay window of her store.

  It was a motorcycle—slowing down—and coming to a rumbling halt right in front of Sunstone.

  Chapter Two

  Eden found she was holding her breath as the man parked his bike, swung a long leg over the saddle and started undoing his helmet. Ohmigod. He was coming into Sunstone. Shit. What the hell could a biker want in her place? A crystal suncatcher for his handlebars?

  As he pulled off the helmet, a tumble of black hair fell loose, down to his shoulders, and Eden watched in amazement as he eyed her store, tucked the silver-steel bullet headgear under one arm and strode toward her door. She also couldn’t help but notice blood on side of his face.