Full Contact. Tara Quinn Taylor
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“You’re going to have to come closer.”
Jay continued, “Otherwise, you can’t ride on the same bike I’m on.”
It took almost a full minute, but Ellen managed to mount without coming into contact with his body. He gave her some brief instructions about moving with him, leaning and not leaning, general principles of keeping the bike balanced.
“Where do I put my hands?”
“On me,” he said, staring straight ahead. “That’s the point of this exercise.”
“I know that. Where on you?” It sounded as though she was gritting her teeth.
“Your choice. You’re the boss. For this exercise, my body represents your safety. It is fully at your disposal—like a tornado shelter in a storm, or a fort during battle. Trust it.”
Her touch wasn’t much, a light resting of her fingers on the top of his shoulders, but as soon as he felt it, he started the bike and put it in gear.
“Hold on.” With a twist of his wrist he upped the throttle a notch. And received slightly more pressure on his shoulders.
“Faster,” she said, five more minutes down the road.
He increased the speed once more and she laughed out loud.
And that’s when the whole damn thing went bad. The laugh, the touch of her hands…whatever…generated heat in Jay that he had no right to feel.
Dear Reader,
Ever wonder why true love lands on some people but not on others? Or how you can come across real and lasting happiness?
Ellen Moore might have wondered those things. She certainly had reason to wonder. But Ellen doesn’t allow herself to ask why. She presses forward. Makes things happen. And she’s so busy raising her five-year-old son and working and helping other people that she doesn’t have time to wonder about much of anything.
Jay Billingsley is a black-leather-vested biker dude on a mission. He’s also a renowned medical massage therapist, able to help victims of violence overcome aversion to physical touch.
Ellen and Jay seemed like a perfect fit to me when I first sat down to write this book. But, not surprisingly, the two of them had different ideas. This is their story. Told by them. And it’s a much better version than mine….
Welcome to Shelter Valley! I hope you enjoy the visit enough to want to come back and stay a while.
I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at [email protected]. Or visit me at www.tarataylorquinn.com. I’m also on Facebook and Twitter.
Tara Taylor Quinn
Full Contact
Tara Taylor Quinn
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The author of more than fifty-four original novels in twenty languages, Tara Taylor Quinn is a USA TODAY bestseller with over six million copies sold. She is known for delivering deeply emotional and psychologically astute novels of suspense and romance. Tara won the 2008 Reader’s Choice Award, is a four-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, a multiple finalist for the Reviewer’s Choice Award, the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Holt Medallion and appears regularly on the Waldenbooks bestsellers list. She has appeared on national and local TV across the country, including CBS Sunday Morning. Tara is the author of the successful Chapman Files series and, with her husband, recently wrote and saw the release of her own true love story, It Happened on Maple Street, from HCI books. When she’s not writing, fulfilling speaking engagements or tending to the needs of her two very spoiled and adored four-legged family members, Tara loves to travel with her husband, stopping wherever the spirit takes them. They’ve been spotted in casinos and quaint little small-town antiques shops all across the country.
For Courtney VanGarderen.
May you always have the strength to reach
for your happiness and never,
ever settle for less than that.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER ONE
“YOU SURE YOU DON’T want me to come in with you?” Shelley asked.
“I’m sure.” Ellen Moore’s voice, infused with confidence and cheer for the sake of five-year-old Josh climbing out of the backseat of her sister’s car, sounded strong and healthy to her.
Because she was strong and healthy. She could do this. No big deal. Thousands of women all over the country shared parenting with divorced spouses.
Though maybe not all of them had their younger sisters driving them to the airport for the month-long parental switch.
Martha Moore Marks, the girls’ mother, had been adamant about Ellen not making the trip alone. That was fine with Ellen. Her sister Shelley wanted Ellen’s opinion on an outfit she was considering for an upcoming vocal performance with the Phoenix Symphony, so they could take care of that while they were in the city. Then the sisters were treating themselves to lunch at their favorite Mexican restaurant in Fountain Hills—a quaint Phoenix suburb—before heading home to Shelter Valley.
“I want to wear my backpack.” The solemn voice of her son grabbed Ellen’s attention. And heart. “I don’t want Daddy to think I’m a baby or something.”
“He’s not going to think that, bud,” she said, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her little guy’s dark, silky hair. At home, especially when he was sleepy, he’d let her get away with it, but not here. Not now.
Instead, she helped him secure the straps of the new full-size backpack he’d specifically requested for the trip. The canvas bag—loaded down with his electronic handheld game console; extra discs; dried fruit snacks; animal cookies; cheese crackers; his Cars insulated water bottle filled with juice; two of his favorite nighttime storybooks, both starring Cars characters; and the stuffed Woody doll she’d bought him for Christmas the year before—replaced the smaller plastic one that had been suitable when he’d been going to preschool and day care.
He was starting kindergarten a couple of days after he returned from visiting his father.
“Remember, put Woody under the covers with you at night,” she told him as Shelley popped the trunk on her Chevy sedan. Ellen hauled out