At First Touch by Tamara Sneed

her breath heat the shell of his ear.
    If Wyatt didn’t know better, he would think that “Hi, Wyatt,” meant “Take me back to my house and pound into me until I can’t walk anymore.” He wanted to bury his face in her hair and smell it and touch it and pull it as he entered her—
    Wyatt swallowed the lump in his throat and met her gaze. Everything about her screamed sex, but the look in her eyes twinkled with something else. Mischief.
    â€œQuinn,” Wyatt greeted carefully.
    â€œMind if I join you?” she purred.
    Without waiting for a response, she slid into the booth next to Wyatt, her thigh pressing into his. Wyatt grimaced and moved farther over until he was pressed against the window, but she only followed him until every inch of her thigh pressed against every inch of his. Quinn had never willingly sat next to him, let alone touched him, since he had known her. Something was definitely up, and it had nothing to do with what was in his pants.
    Quinn smiled at Dorrie, who looked transfixed with awe, and offered her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Quinn Sibley. I hope I’m not intruding.”
    Dorrie stared at Quinn for a moment, then appeared to snap out of whatever daze she was in and shook Quinn’s hand. “I know who you are. I watch Diamond Valley , or…I used to, until they killed you off.”
    Quinn’s pleasure was evident as she said, “Really?” Quinn playfully jabbed Wyatt in the arm and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were having lunch with a woman with such good taste?” Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her, and Quinn turned to Dorrie. “Sometimes Wyatt has the worst manners. What is your name?”
    â€œDorrie Diamond.”
    â€œWhat a beautiful name,” Quinn gushed, obviously not remembering her comic book comment from yesterday. “You stopped watching Diamond Valley because of me?”
    â€œOf course,” Dorrie said, nodding eagerly. “Sephora was the best part of that show. The only reason to watch it.”
    â€œI thought so, too,” Quinn agreed.
    Wyatt decided that whatever game Quinn was playing had gone on long enough, especially since she had placed her elbow on the table, touching his.
    He cleared his throat and said, “Quinn—”
    Dorrie interrupted him, her gaze still on Quinn. “Ms. Sibley—”
    â€œPlease call me Quinn,” Quinn said, patting Dorrie’s arm.
    Dorrie gave Quinn a wide smile that she had never given him. “Quinn, I always wondered, what is Gregory like in real life?”
    Quinn laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder in a cascading waterfall of brown silk. “I’m not surprised. Every woman in America wants the lowdown about Gregory Rotelle. He seems so debonair and sophisticated on television, but believe me, honey, the man deserves an Emmy for even being able to portray a human. In real life, he’s an ass. He spent more time in hair and makeup than most of the women. And, for the record, the hair is not real.”
    Dorrie giggled, her pale skin coloring slightly. “No!” she gasped, moving her hand to cover her mouth.
    Wyatt grew more annoyed. He still hadn’t gotten a laugh out of Dorrie.
    â€œOh, yes. His real hairline starts somewhere around the top of his ears,” Quinn said with a conspiratorial wink, causing Dorrie to collapse into laughter.
    â€œQuinn,” Wyatt said in a low, quiet voice that neither woman could ignore. Dorrie glanced at him and stared back down at her plate, her smile disappearing, while Quinn looked at him with an innocent expression that would have fooled only a blind man. He clenched his teeth and demanded, “What do you want?”
    â€œWyatt!” Dorrie admonished in a whisper, as if Quinn wouldn’t be able to hear her.
    â€œIt’s all right, Dorrie,” Quinn said sweetly, patting the woman’s arm again. “I’m