Harlequin - Jennifer Greene

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Dear Reader,

Welcome to another fabulous month of novels from Silhouette Desire. Our DYNASTIES: THE

ASHTONS continuity continues with Kristi Gold’sMistaken for a Mistress . Ford Ashton sets out to find the truth about who really murdered his grandfather and believes the answers may lie with the man’s mistress—but who is Kerry Roarkereally? USA TODAY bestselling author Jennifer Greene is back with a stellar novel,Hot to the Touch . You’ll love this wounded veteran hero and the feisty female whose special touch heals him.

TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE SECRET DIARY presents its second installment with Less-than-Innocent Invitation by Shirley Rogers. It seems this millionaire rancher has to keep tabs on his ex-girlfriend by putting her up at his Texas spread. Oh, poor girl…trapped with a sexy—wealthy—cowboy! There’s a brand-new KING OF HEARTS book by Katherine Garbera as the mysterious El Rey’s matchmaking attempts continue inRock Me All Night . Linda Conrad begins a compelling new miniseries called THE GYPSY INHERITANCE, the first of which isSeduction by the Book. Look for the remaining two novels to follow in September and October. And finally, Laura Wright winds up her royal series withHer Royal Bed . There’s lots of revenge, royalty and romance to be enjoyed.

Thanks for choosing Silhouette Desire. In the coming months be sure to look for titles by authors Peggy Moreland, Annette Broadrick and the incomparable Diana Palmer.

Happy reading!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor

Silhouette Desire

Hot to the Touch

JENNIFERGREENE

Published by Silhouette Books

Americas’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

SILHOUETTE BOOKS

ISBN 1-55254-341-2

HOT TO THE TOUCH

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Copyright © 2005 by Alison Hart

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ®

are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

Visit Silhouette Books atwww.eHarlequin.com

Books by Jennifer Greene

Silhouette Desire

Body and Soul#263

Foolish Pleasure#293

Madam’s Room#326

Dear Reader#350

Minx#366

Lady Be Good#385

Love Potion#421

The Castle Keep#439

Lady of the Island#463

Night of the Hunter#481

Dancing in the Dark#498

Heat Wave#553

Slow Dance#600

Night Light#619

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Falconer#671

Just Like Old Times#728

It Had To Be You#756

Quicksand#786

*Bewitched#847

*Bothered#855

*Bewildered#861

A Groom for Red Riding Hood#893

Single Dad#931

Arizona Heat#966

†The Unwilling Bride#998

†Bachelor Mom#1046

Nobody’s Princess#1087

A Baby in His In-Box#1129

Her Holiday Secret#1178

The Honor Bound Groom#1190

**Prince Charming’s Child#1225

**Kiss Your Prince Charming#1245

§Rock Solid#1316

Millionaire M.D.#1340

††Wild in the Field#1545

††Wild in the Mooonlight#1588

††Wild in the Moment#1622

Hot to the Touch#1670

Silhouette Intimate Moments

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Secrets#221

Devil’s Night#305

Broken Blossom#345

Pink Topaz#418

Silhouette Special Edition

†The 200% Wife#1111

Silhouette Books

Birds, Bees and Babies1990

“Riley’s Baby”

Santa’s Little Helpers1995

“Twelfth Night”

Fortune’s Children

The Baby Chase

Gifts of Fortune

“The Christmas House”

Harlequin NEXT

Lucky#2

*Jock’s Boys

†The Stanford Sisters

§Body & Soul

**Happily Ever After

††The Scent of Lavender

JENNIFER GREENE

lives near Lake Michigan with her husband and two children. Before writing full-time, she worked as a teacher and a personnel manager. Michigan State University honored her as an “outstanding woman graduate” for her work with women on campus.

Ms. Greene has written more than fifty category romances, for which she has won numerous awards,
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including two RITA® Awards from the Romance Writers of America in the Best Short Contemporary Books category, and a Career Achievement Award fromRomantic Times magazine.

Contents

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

One

Respect was a touchy issue for Phoebe Schneider. She’d been a skilled physical therapist for several years, and since no one had twisted her arm and forced her to become a masseuse, it was pretty crazy to complain. Maybe a lot of guys assumed that being a masseuse meant she was loose as a goose, but guys, by their hormonal nature, always indulged in wishful thinking.

At twenty-eight, Phoebe knew perfectly well how the world worked. She just had a little hot spot about the respect thing…say, the size of a mountain.

Today, though, was one of those rare, fabulous days when Phoebe felt so great about her job that any price she had to pay was worth it.

From the windows of the Gold River Hospital conference room, the Smokies loomed in the distance.

The mountains were still shawled in snow, the wind still February sharp, but inside, the temperature was toasty. The pediatrics neurologist, pediatrics head and ICU nurse rubbed elbows at the table. Phoebe wasn’t just the youngest of the group, but distinctly the only masseuse.

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What tickled her pride bone most, though, was that they were all listening to her. Of course, they’d better—because when the subject was babies, Phoebe was known to fight down and dirty.

“We’ve been through this before. The problem,” she said firmly, “is that you’re all looking for an illness.

A pathology. Some kind of disease you can fix. But when you’ve ruled out all those possibilities, you have to look at other choices.” She clicked her mouse, which changed the screen image on the far wall to that of a three-month-old baby. “George isn’t sick. George is cold.”

“Cold—” Dr. Reynolds started to interrupt.

“I meant emotionally cold.” She clicked the mouse again, showing a picture from the day the baby had been brought into the hospital. A nurse was lifting George from a crib. The baby was indistinguishable from an inanimate doll, because his little arms and legs were as rigid as stone. “You already know his history. Found in a closet, half-starved. A birth mother incapable of mothering or even basic care. This was simply a baby who was born into a world so hostile that he had no concept of emotional connection.”

She showed the next series of slides, illustrating the changes over the last month since she’d started working with the baby. Finally she ended the presentation—which ended her consulting job for this group, as well. “My recommendation is that you not place George in a regular foster care situation for a while yet. We think of bonding as a natural human need, but George’s situation is more complex than that. If you want this little angel to make it, we need him connected 24/7 to a warm, human body—and I mean that literally. We have to force him to trust, because even at this young age, he has learned to survive by tuning out. He simply won’t take the chance of trusting anyone—unless we put him in a situation where he’s forced to.”

Halfway through the meeting, the social worker tiptoed in late. Phoebe saw skepticism in the neurologist’s face, dubiousness in the social worker’s. She didn’t mind. The docs wanted to be able to prescribe medicine that would promptly fix the baby. The social worker wanted to foster the baby out and get him off her hands.

Everybody wanted easy answers. Phoebe could only seem to come up with time-consuming, expensive and inconvenient answers, which not only regularly annoyed everyone, but also tended to go down harder because they came from an upstart, redheaded, five-foot, three-inch baby masseuse.

No one ever heard of a baby masseuse when she came to Gold River. No one ever heard of it in Asheville, either, where she’d started out. Heaven knew, she’d never wanted to create a job that didn’t exist. But darn it, she’d kept running across throwaway babies that the system had only lazy, lousy, inadequate answers for. It wasn’t her fault that her unorthodox ideas worked. It wasn’t her fault she fought like a shrew for the little ones, either.

When it came down to it, maybe she’d just found her calling. Yelling and arguing seemed to come to her naturally.

When the meeting broke up around four, the powers that be tore out as if released from prison. Phoebe started humming under her breath—she’d won the program for Baby George—further proof that it paid to be a shrew. And now, because the meeting ended early, she could get home and give the dogs a run before dinner.