By Cait London
Tempest, Claire, and Leona: triplets blessed—or cursed—with a different additional experience they'd each one deny, given the opportunity . . . Tempest was once born with the uncanny skill to profit every thing approximately an object—or even a person—just by means of the contact of her bare fingers. yet she is familiar with this reward comes at a value, so she protects herself by way of conserving these she loves at a distance, but if a sinister enemy threatens all that she holds pricey, Tempest is compelled to arrive out to Marcus Greystone, who she as soon as touched willingly . . . and with passionate abandon. Marcus hasn't ever forgotten the sensuous evening he and Tempest shared—before she left his mattress and not using a notice. Now that she wishes his support, Marcus isn't really letting her move simply. it really is his likelihood to teach Tempest that his contact may also electrify. yet a meeting hurricane of violence is following Tempest, and a killer waits to get his palms on her . . .
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Extra info for A Stranger's Touch
Catch. And that outfit looks great on you, by the way. The belt buckle is a nice piece of work—yours, I imagine. The design is Celtic. A tribute to your family— Greer Aisling is your mother, right? ” She’d taken Storm as a last name to place distance between herself and her family, and perhaps her past. Stunned that he would make the connection, Tempest stared at him as Marcus continued, “Oh, come on, Tempest. Let’s get beyond this. You researched me, didn’t you? You know about me, that I stepped into my father’s shoes, running Greystone Investments.
Marcus took his time in the shower, pacing himself deliberately, until he emerged naked from the bathroom. He found Tempest sitting on the edge of his bed. She looked away immediately to Predator, gleaming beneath a lighted alcove. ” He wasn’t going to make it easy. Marcus took his time drawing on black silk pajama bottoms. He usually slept nude, but the concession seemed fitting with Tempest—although he wasn’t quite sure how he’d come to that conclusion. That night in Santa Fe, she’d had no problem watching him move, almost as if she were studying a piece of her art and enjoying it; as for her own body, she hadn’t been shy in exposing herself.
They shouldn’t have left me alone with two pieces of flint, asking me which was the oldest,” she said, before dropping the file. Marcus’s smile seemed amused, his hard veneer softening for just that heartbeat. ” Tempest dropped the file onto the table. “How did you get that information, Marcus? ” This time he shrugged again, but without the smile. The soft light caught the reddish lights of his dark hair, the planes of his face, that blunt nose, his sharp 40 | Cait London cheekbones. The rest of his face was in shadows, the light gleaming on his broad shoulders, catching the power in his crossed arms.
A Stranger's Touch by Cait London