Touch Me

By Beverly Rae

Sloan Janson’s best friend gets married days after being matched by a so-called matchmaker. He’s convinced his friend is the victim of a money-hungry con artist. He’d ready to track down the matchmaker and expose her, but from the moment he meets her, he wants to expose her in a much more personal way.

Cally Matthews can tell a person their true love’s name simply by touching them. Although helping people find each other is wonderful, matchmaking is both her gift and her curse. Then when Sloan Janson comes to her small Texas town, ready to discredit her, her special ability goes haywire.

Torn between regaining her ability and hoping for love, Cally must make an impossible decision. Will she make the choice? Or will she run?

Genre: Erotic Paranormal/Fantasy Romance
FULL-LENGTH NOVEL – 18+ only – 90,000+ words
Publisher’s Note: TOUCH ME includes romantic love along with hot cabin sex, a spitting mad cat, and one wild ride of a storm.

*Previously published but has been extensively revised, including an additional epilogue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beverly Rae
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781941974056

Beverly Rae

When I enrolled in an online writing course in 2004, I had no idea that I’d started a new career. I love writing and had never even thought I could make it my life’s work. I’m married to my real life hero who has supported me from the beginning and given me all the time in the world to realize my dream. I live in Georgia and spend my days in my office writing with my dogs at my feet. What more can a girl ask for?Most of my books are paranormal romances, some MF and some menage, with graphic sex and a laugh or two. Keep checking back and you’ll see more of my books showing up. If you’d like more information about me or my books, go to www.beverlyrae.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

You’re what? Sloan Janson stared into the face of his best friend, Rob Dillon.

Rob gave him his usual shit-eating grin. I’m fucking married, man. I know it’s the last thing you ever thought you’d hear me say. Hell, it’s the last thing I ever thought I’d say, but here I am. Married. Rob held up his left hand to show off the simple gold band.

Sloan did his best to wrap his mind around it. Was this a joke? He sucked in air as the bartender placed another bottle of beer in front of them then dropped their burgers in a basket on the counter. But how? Why? You go off on a fishing trip and come home married? Who does that? You’re supposed to bring back a fish, not a wife.

He took a swig and wished he’d ordered something stronger to drink. Where’d you meet this girl, anyway? I thought you went out to the lake to get away from it all. The whole need to take some time for yourself routine? The only thing you were supposed to catch was large-mouthed bass.

Sloan waited for a logical answer and, although his pounding pulse reverberated through his head like a maniacal drummer, he couldn’t resist a humorous nudge, hoping against hope it was one of Rob’s lousy practical jokes. Is it too late to throw her back?

Ha, ha, man. Very funny. Rob scowled first and then morphed the scowl into a smile in typical, easy-going Rob style. I don’t think you’re getting it. I love this girl.

Is it love or really lust?

But for God’s sake, why’d you get married? Not to mention so damn fast? Whatever happened to dating? You know, the part where you get to know each other first? Have some harmless sweaty sex? Remember the good stuff?

Sloan jabbed his fork into a napkin, punching a hole in the fabric. If, after that, you still want her around, you meet her mother so you can see what she’s going to look like after three kids and twenty years of marriage.

I don’t know what you want me to say, Sloan. It was love at first sight. Actually, it’s a hell of a story. Rob bit a chunk out of his burger before continuing. I was out on the dock at Lawson’s Lake when a girl in the tiniest thong swim suit ever waved at me as she zipped by in a speedboat. Hell, man, what was I supposed to do? I had to wave back.

Well, sure. What red-blooded twenty-something male wouldn’t wave back to a hot girl? Especially one zipping by in a fast boat. As Sloan’s imagination grew, so did his shaft. His mind wandered to the image of a fast woman driving an equally fast machine. At least, until Rob finally drew him back to reality. Back to a reality where his best friend was now chained for life to a girl he didn’t really know.

I didn’t think she even saw me, but then she turned the boat around and headed straight at me.

Rob continued his story between chews, but Sloan left his lunch untouched. He couldn’t choke any food past the enormous clump in his throat. His dick and the clog in his throat put him in between a rock and a logjam.

She came right up to me and introduced herself. Damn, man, I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s smokin’. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body made for sex.

Sloan again struggled to find any sense behind Rob’s actions. Okay, buddy, I can see how you might get hung up with a great-looking girl because—

Because that’s not the type of girl I usually get? Because what hot babe would want an average-looking guy with a lousy physique and half a head of hair? Rob frowned. That’s what you’re thinking, right?

Rob was twenty-three and going pre-maturely bald. Although he tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, Sloan knew better. Rob—

"No, don’t. It’s okay. I know the women don’t think I’m good-looking, but she does. You’re right. I never could get a knockout before this. Yeah, man, believe it. She came after me."

Sloan’s mind raced with wild thoughts. So she came on to you? He attempted to envision a hot babe crawling all over Rob, but couldn’t quite get there. Instead, he gave up and fell back against his seat. He didn’t doubt his friend, but still…

When the idea struck, both anger and worry filled him. Aw, hell, man. Don’t you see? Somehow, she found out about your family. It’s fucked up, but maybe she was after the inheritance instead of the man.

Okay, so his words had come out harsher than he’d wanted. Maybe he could have laid it out in a more tactful way. Or maybe not. He hated like crazy to see the happy glint in Rob’s eyes dim, but he had to get through to him. Everything in him, every gut-bone feeling, shouted at him. Rob had returned from this trip with more stinking than just the fish he’d caught.

Although both of them came from families with money and position, neither man flaunted his wealth or expected any special consideration because of his family’s status in the Dallas community. Both families owned large cattle ranches with oil rigs spotted throughout their many acres. They’d had the best of both worlds, living on a ranch, but close enough to the big city to get a taste of everything cultured—and not so cultured.

They’d grown up together, becoming best friends from the first day they’d met. As soon as they realized what it was like to be a part of their high profile families, they’d always avoided getting involved with people who were only interested in their name and didn’t really care who they really were. But Rob had always been too trusting and now his naiveté had gotten him into real trouble.

Rob’s face screwed up, eyebrows pulling together. Listen, this was a new place I went to. I’ve never been to Lawson’s Lake or the town of Lawson before last week. In fact, I used my mother’s maiden name to rent the cabin and I paid cash for everything. There’s no way Lisa could have known who I was.

Sloan started to speak but Rob’s hand flew up, stopping him cold.

Wait a sec. There’s something more you need to know. Lisa came looking for me because she knew I was her soul mate. He lifted his hands, ready to defend against Sloan’s laughter. Yeah, I know. It’s stupid, sappy, and all that shit. But, man, I’m convinced. Until it happens to you, you just won’t get it. Lisa and I were meant for each other. We’re talking about fate. Destiny.

Okay, let’s say I’m buying this. How do you know? Because blue birds sang around your heads? Because the sun broke through the clouds the first time you kissed? This is bullshit and you know it. Just admit it was all about the sex.

No. Believe me. I know what I sound like.

Then how? How do you know? I swear to God, Rob, if you say you just know, I’ll pour your beer over your head.

I did just know, but it was more than that. The matchmaker, Cally Mathews, touched her and told her so.

The air around Sloan thickened with a clinging depression making breathing more difficult. Stunned, he watched Rob gulp down the last of his hamburger.

How can the guy eat when he’s sitting in a leaky boat headed over a roaring waterfall without a lifejacket?

"Wait. Who told her you’re her soul mate? A matchmaker? Do those things even exist? And you believed her because she touched her and just knew? You’re bullshitting me, right? What is this? A prank?"

Sloan forced out a chuckle he didn’t feel, but the look on Rob’s face silenced him fast enough. Oh, man. You’re serious?

I’m deadly serious. Cally can touch people and tell them who they belong with and who their soul mate is. I know it sounds nuts. Hey, at first, I didn’t believe it, either. But I do now. We’re proof that it’s true.

Something had happened to his friend, but what? Could he have been drugged? Could he have suffered some kind of hallucinatory sunstroke? Whatever happened, he was determined to fix it.

Okay, listen up and try to stay calm. Rob, you’ve got to know how all this sounds. Do not, I repeat, do not go around repeating that story to anyone else, okay?

Glancing at the couple sitting on barstools near them, Sloan wondered if they’d heard Rob’s crazy story. To be safe, Sloan lowered his voice another notch. Everything’s going to be okay because I’m going to take care of this. I’ll make it right. I’ll find the best doctors available to treat your, uh, psychosis, or whatever the hell your problem is. You’ll be as sane as anyone else in a few days. Or maybe a couple of months. However long your recovery takes, you can count on me to stand by your side. But until then, let’s keep this story between the two of us, okay?

Rob glared, a large scowl dragging his cheerful features downward. He took a sip of his drink and shook his head. Not cool, man. I’m not crazy, so don’t go treating me like I’m a mental case. I’m telling you the way it was and the way it is. Try opening up your mind for a second and maybe, just maybe, something new might seep into that cement block you call your head.

Stabbing pain reverberated in Sloan’s left temple, heralding the crushing headache to come. All right, take it easy. Let’s go with the assumption that you’re mentally sound.

And not drunk or physically ill.

Still, part of him wasn’t ready to dismiss the temporary insanity theory. But do you hear yourself? Come on, Rob. Tell the truth. This is one of your stupid jokes, right? Tell me I’m right.

He plastered on a fake grin and hoped for the best. Rob had pulled a lot of pranks on him during the years, some very elaborate, but he didn’t get the feeling he was pulling one now.

Sloan, I’m telling you the truth.

He was just about to give up when another option came to him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

Okay, now I understand. Listen, man, there’s no reason to be ashamed. Just admit it. You got drunk one night, met a girl by the lake, and ended up married before you could sober up. Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time a nice guy got plastered and screwed up. That’s it, isn’t it? Come on. Knock off the act and tell me I’m right.

Damn it, Sloan. His answer came through gritted teeth. If you can’t handle the truth, then screw you.

But a matchmaker? Shit, I feel like we’re stuck in some woman’s magazine or in one of those tear-jerker movies girls like. Besides, matchmakers today use computers and personality profiles. Not a set-up during a fishing vacation. And they can’t tell anything by simply touching someone.

The whirl of emotions caused an equally turbulent riot in his stomach. Fear wrapped around his gut and crushed his insides into an angry ball. He hated the idea of Rob getting conned. They’d had each other’s backs all their lives and he wasn’t about to stop now. But Rob couldn’t expect him to buy it hook, line, and sinker.

Hell, why not give some psychic hotline a call, for fuck’s sake? That’d make as much sense as using a matchmaker. At least you’d have some fun wasting the money instead of giving half your assets away during the inevitable divorce.

Which brought up another concern. Oh, shit. Please tell you got her to sign a pre-nup.

I don’t need one.

Aw, shit. It’s worse than I thought.

They’d agreed early on that pre-nuptial agreements were a must. If and when they ever found the women they’d marry. As far as Sloan was concerned, it was a huge if.

He stared at the earnest expression on Rob’s face, and renewed his efforts to figure out what had gone wrong. Had his friend really lost his mind? Or was Rob determined to play out this sick joke to the bitter, not to mention, unfunny end? No. He had to believe Rob would spill the truth soon and let him off this weird roller coaster.

Maybe Rob had been set up. Taking a swig of his drink, he considered the possibility and felt a spark of optimism. Some friend he was. Here he sat, hoping his best friend was the victim of a scam. Yet being scammed was better than being crazy, right?

He fidgeted in his chair, barely controlling his eagerness, then eased into his theory. This person, this so-called matchmaker, is she a relative of Laurie’s?

Crap, Sloan. As a reporter, you’d think you’d be better with names. Her name’s Lisa and no, they’re not related, although they are good friends. But that’s got nothing to do with our marriage. Trust me.

Sloan had tried his luck as a PI and hadn’t liked it. He preferred taking care of cattle than snooping on unfaithful wives and husbands. Then he’d lucked into becoming a free-lance reporter for one of the largest newspapers in the state and took assignments whenever they interested him. Snooping wasn’t his thing, but finding out the truth was.

But how do you know they didn’t plan all of it? Come on. This whole thing reeks of set-up.

Shit, Sloan. I knew you’d have a hard time understanding, but I didn’t expect you’d freak out. Relax, man. I haven’t gone off the deep end. I’m just as sane as you are. He made a face. Okay, so that’s not saying much.

He couldn’t find it in him to laugh at Rob’s joke. Frustration flowed through every pore. Raising his glass to his mouth, he downed the drink in one gulp and tried again, hoping this one last attempt would bring his friend around. Okay, let’s give this some more thought. It’s a hell of a problem and it might take some time and money to unwind, but we can get you out of this mess.

Exasperation stole the pleasant look from Rob’s face as he placed both hands on the table in front of him, pulled himself forward, and brought his face closer to Sloan’s.

Okay, enough is enough. You’re determined to think the worst. Lisa was very up front from the minute I met her. She climbed out of the boat, asked me my name, smiled this knowing smile, then kissed me. Then, as I reeled from the best kiss I’ve ever had, she told me about Cally, the town’s matchmaker. Besides, man, you’re not listening to me. I don’t want out.

Sloan ran his fingers through his hair and signaled the waiter for another beer. He closed his eyes in an effort to block out all the noise around him, and tried to organize his thoughts. Sure, Rob was the gullible type, but he wasn’t stupid. Nobody could trap him so easily. He went thought the options again.

Could this woman have drugged Rob? No, not likely. And Rob wouldn’t have taken anything on his own either because Rob hated drugs to the point of grumbling when he took an aspirin for a toothache. No, drugs were out. And he’d said he hadn’t been drunk. Rob wasn’t a party animal and it was doubtful he’d have gotten drunk enough to marry a girl he didn’t know. Then what had happened to get his levelheaded friend to be careless enough to marry a girl he’d just met?

He studied Rob’s face, praying to find an answer, but all he saw was a very happy man. Not even a glimpse of remorse. At this point, he’d take almost any other reason than the one Rob wanted him to buy.

Sloan, the whole thing is amazing. There’s this girl, born and raised in Lawson, who has this uncanny knack for matching people with their perfect partner. She calls it her gift. The whole town knows her and everyone I met believes in her. Lisa introduced me to several couples Cally’s matched.

Rob paused, but when Sloan opened his mouth to speak, he quickly continued, stopping him before he could get a word out. I know it’s hard to swallow, but I’m telling you, as soon as Lisa kissed me I was a goner.

His mouth opened a couple of times, but the words lost their way from his head to his mouth. Could it be real?

Rob, taking his silence for acceptance, continued driving home his story. Look, I know my story sounds like one of those sappy made-for-T.V. movies, but I’ve waited for her all my life. On top of that, I need her to be with me. I mean, down in the gut, big time, aching-to-be-with-her in every possible way. And she’s the same way about me. Three days after we met, we went to the local justice of the peace. Rob’s grin grew even wider. I would’ve gone sooner, but she wanted to get to know me first.

Get to know him? In three days? Sloan held back a groan.

Where is that drink? Sloan waved to the bartender and got another beer just as he’d finished the second one.

And you honestly believe there’s a girl who hooks up people with their perfect match just by touching them? Rob, I’m sorry, but this is too much. I’m not buying any of this.

Okay, so don’t believe me.

A tense silence came between them and Sloan tried to think of something more to say. Anything to get Rob’s head on straight again. Instead, he watched Rob stare into space. Then his friend’s features took on an expression he recognized all too well. Sitting up straighter, he prepared for a challenge.

All right, man, here’s an idea. Go to Lawson and find out for yourself. Do your investigative reporter thing. At best, you prove me and a whole town wrong. At worst, you meet Cally and get a story. Who knows? Maybe she’ll do the same for you. As for me? I’m a believer no matter what you say. Lisa and I are so happy it’s—

Yeah, I know. It’s amazing.

Sloan slumped against his chair and stared at Rob’s happy face. How’d this happened? Rob should’ve known better after helping Sloan when his own impetuous marriage crumbled after only a few hellish months. He’d fallen for a girl at eighteen and, after a month of blinded bliss, they’d eloped to Vegas and gotten married by an Elvis impersonator. That alone should’ve been a clue that he was making a mistake. It had been Rob, not his family, who’d gotten him out of the marriage.

If Rob wouldn’t listen to reason, he’d have to take him up on his dare and dig up the truth. No matter what it took, he’d save Rob from himself.

* *

Streams of morning light filtered through the drapes to rest on her back, warming a rectangular patch of her skin. The two cups of herbal tea she’d prepared sat untouched while the sweet fragrance of raspberry drifted upward on the steam. Sitting next to her friend on the sofa, Cally could almost touch the expectancy in the room. Only the tick, tick of the clock’s second hand marked the passage of time.

The warm, tingling vibration seeped from Sara’s skin into Cally’s fingers, spreading bit by bit into her hand, snaking little trails up her arm until stopping at her shoulder. Cally rolled her shoulders and neck around, preparing for the next step. Closing her eyes, she waited, letting her measured breaths soothe her. After a minute, she forgot about her breathing and willed herself to concentrate on the sensations.

Anything yet? asked the tall, slender brunette, eagerness putting an edge to her whispered words.

Cally shook her head, keeping her eyes closed, and tried to relax. Once she did, the words would come. In a slow arc, she moved her head around, trying to loosen the tension creeping into her neck. Yet, all the while, she kept her hand resting on Sara’s arm. Taking long, deep breaths, Cally willed her body into acceptance. Slowly, the second wave of vibrations began flooding into her.

That’s it. The words are coming.

She heard Sara’s sigh and knew the girl’s impatience grew, but she could not, would not, rush the process. After a small stop in its course, the prickly movement started flowing quicker, gliding along Cally’s shoulder to the base of her neck. Cally could sense the answers’ approach and wanted to tell Sara, but she didn’t dare speak.

Without warning, the silhouette of a face entered her mind and emerald eyes blocked out all other thoughts. Surprised, Cally forced the image away, bringing her concentration back to the words waiting to burst forth. She didn’t sense that the face was the one she was seeking. Still, why had it come?

The answers came in words etched across her mind’s eye and as images, sometimes blurry, sometimes as clear as a sunny day, but always enough to grasp the information she needed. And always for the person she was touching.

Then why had this face come to her? And why in silhouette? A dark image with amazing green eyes?

But this was Sara’s time. With her focus returned, the words tumbled from her mouth.

His name is Michael Rogers. People call him Big Dog, although I don’t know why. She wondered about the nickname, but pushed her curiosity aside and continued before the words could get away. He’s a kind man with a good heart. His hair and eyes are brown and he’s tall. He’s about the height of your brother. His smile is more like a goofy grin. Football is his passion—

Oh, no.

She bit her bottom lip and choked back a giggle. He enjoys watching as well as playing the game. He’s receptive and ready for love now, so he’ll be open to your heart and words.

And you’ll need to be open to the pungent aroma of sweat-drenched jerseys.

A tiny smile brushed Cally’s lips before she regained control. And yet, the silhouette still pushed at the edges of her mind. She frowned and forced it away again.

Another image of Sara’s future mate emerged. A very enticing image. An image explaining how he’d gained his nickname. Big Dog stood naked in her vision, with his exceptionally long shaft sticking straight out, as hard and thick as a jousting pole. A wickedly sensual smile spread his mouth and he ran his lips over his teeth, an obvious request to taste the juices of a woman as a thirsty canine might lap up a cool drink of water. I understand why he’s called Big Dog now. You’ll find out soon enough, you lucky girl.

Cally’s eyelids attempted to flutter open, but she managed to keep her eyes closed. She’d lose the connection if she opened them. Yet as hard as she struggled to stay focused, she couldn’t stop the dark face from floating across her mind. The startling, moss-colored orbs stared unblinking at her. Intuitively, she knew such intelligent eyes didn’t belong to Big Dog. After all, his name was Big Dog, not Big Smart Dog, for a reason.

"Fortunately, he’s near Lawson, but he’ll return to his home in a few days so you’d better hurry. You’ll find him at the campgrounds near the lake. Go to him and let go of your inhibitions. Take him as you’ve always dreamed of taking the man you love. But be prepared to leave your home soon and go with him. If that’s your choice."

With the words out, Cally allowed her body to relax and the tense feeling dissipated in rippling waves. She opened her eyes and wasn’t surprised to find Sara crying, tears streaming down her joyful face. Happy tears were a common reaction after finding true love.

You’re sure? He’s the one for me?

I’m sure. And you’ll be just as sure as I am once you’ve met him. She knew Sara didn’t doubt her ability. Everyone in Lawson trusted her gift. Still, she understood why the anxious girl needed reassurance.

Sara gathered her purse and reached into the bag to pull out a stick of licorice and bite off a piece. She chewed rapidly, excitement radiating off her. Can I please pay you something? Anything?

Her offer was sincere, but Sara knew the answer. It was always the same. I don’t take money. Shoot, if I wanted to make money matching people, I’d get on television or go on tour. She flashed a brilliant, star-like smile. Imagine. Fame and fortune for little old me.

She put on an air of mystery and quipped, You may call me Madam Cally, Matchmaker to the Rich and Powerful, from now on. She sat up straighter while her hands ran over a pretend magic ball resting in front of her. Chanting in a low, measured manner, she closed her eyes and kept up the fantasy. Oh, Mystical Crystal Ball. Oh, Great Magical Orb. Tell me the answer to my riddle. Sneaking a peek at Sara, she brought home the punch line. Will Sara learn to throw a pigskin?

Cally never took money for using her ability. Instead, she asked her clients to pass on the favor, thus letting more people benefit from her gift.

Seriously, Cally, I need to pay you something.

No, thanks. But maybe you can do something else for me.

Sure. Anything.

Could you lend Missy a hand and help her pick out a new dress for her birthday party? She’s throwing her first teenage party and wants to look perfect like you always do. She rolled her eyes at Sara. God knows why, but she thinks you’re wonderful.

Sara responded with her usual modesty, missing Cally’s joke. Beats me where she got such an idea. I’m no one to look up to.

Having a sweet personality to match her gorgeous exterior, Sara was unaware of her effect on people. Which, of course, made her all the more special in Cally’s opinion.

She laughed and added another good-natured barb. Yeah, right. What’s to admire? Just great looks, intelligence, and a sunny personality. I don’t get what Missy sees in you. But she thinks you’re the coolest person she’s ever known and she’s way too shy to ask you for help. I remember her saying so when she picked up her little sister from my classroom on the last day of school. And since you’re practically next-door neighbors… Letting her words slide, she waited, giving Sara time to say yes.

"That’s all? Of course, I’ll help her. It’ll be like having a little sister to have