By Cait London

Tempest, Claire, and Leona: triplets blessed—or cursed—with a unique additional feel they might every one deny, given the opportunity . . . Tempest used to be born with the uncanny skill to profit every thing approximately an object—or even a person—just through the contact of her bare fingers. yet she is familiar with this present comes at a value, so she protects herself by means of conserving these she loves at a distance, but if a sinister enemy threatens all that she holds pricey, Tempest is pressured 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 with out a be aware. Now that she wishes his aid, Marcus is not letting her pass simply. it is his probability 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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The bronze metal had somehow personified the man’s colors and texture; that sleek dark brown hair was touched with just a shade of red, and she’d remembered gripping the thick crisp texture in her fists as— Tempest closed her eyes for a moment. She knew now why that sculpture would appeal to Marcus, one predator recognizing another. She braced herself to be casual as he turned to open a hidden refrigerator and reach inside. She had just backed up a few steps toward the front door, when Marcus straightened and smiled coldly.

Marcus already knew that she would take what she wanted and walk away without looking back—except if she wanted something more. And Tempest wanted that brooch. He switched off the light. “Good night, Tempest. By the way, I thought you might like an undisturbed sleep, so I took the liberty of turning off the telephones and blocking cell phone reception, too. ” “If you’re alive,” she murmured quietly as she turned and walked out of his room. He listened to the sounds as she moved through the penthouse, testing the locks, opening the refrigerator, sliding a drawer open and closed, the big-screen television purposefully tuned too loud.

You planned this. ” “Uh-huh. And you fell for it. I knew when I didn’t answer, that you’d be coming. ” He hadn’t moved, and Tempest gauged the distance across the sunken living room, up the steps to the foyer to the penthouse’s front door. Marcus’s deep voice rasped dangerously across her skin, chilling it as he said, “It’s locked, sweetheart. Special locks, I’m afraid. The patio door, too, and even if you could manage the locks, I’m not about to let you go just yet. You’re a class-A burglar, Tempest.

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