Night of the Cougar (6 page)

“I guess that’s how you managed to survive being half-frozen yesterday.”

He rolled onto his side and faced her, grasped her waist with his hand. “That, and you. You saved me.”

Heat traveled over her with his words and with the way he was looking at her again. Her nipples peaked in anticipation, but the reality was, she was sore as hell at the moment.

As he cupped her breast and ran his thumb across the tip, she covered his hand with hers to still the motion, but he grasped it and made her cup her own breast.

“Sometimes it’s just about the pleasure in the touch. About experiencing all the sensations before passion overwhelms.”

She moaned and nearly came just from his words, but he kept up that gentle touch, exploring the weight and shape of her, bending his head to taste and tenderly teeth the hard tip of her.

She held his head to her, caught up again in desire, but it was slow-growing this time and so heady she didn’t want it to end. “If this is your way of making me want to leave, it’s failing badly.”

His laughter spilled his warm breath against her breast. “Christ, Jamie. Don’t you know how torn up I am about making you go.”

Reaching between their bodies, she nestled his erection against her belly and stroked it softly, wanting to explore him as he was exploring her. She learned every inch of him before lowering her hand to the soft nest of curls between his legs and cupping his balls.

Against her belly came a more noticeable vibration, not unlike the rumble of the cougar. “I guess you like,” she teased.

“I like. Too much,” he said, and bent to kiss her breasts again. They were sensitive from their earlier loving and at his kiss, she moaned from the sensation of his mouth, warm and mobile, along her flesh.

She didn’t know how they managed it, but somehow an hour passed with them just lazily caressing each other, enjoying the pleasure of each other’s touch and bodies until the midmorning sun spilled onto the bed, as if to warn them that they couldn’t linger like that all day.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, and at her look, quickly added, “For food?”

Grinning, she said, “Starving.” For good measure, she gave one final stroke along his cock and he jumped beneath her hand.

“Later,” he said, and she was pleased that he seemed to have changed his mind about having her go. Although she knew the argument would arise again.

For now, she would accept their tentative truce.

As he slipped on his jeans, she grabbed his robe, but asked, “Have you seen my clothes?”

“They were muddy and wet. I washed them for you this morning when I was hoping that you could head back down the mountain,” he replied, and she followed him to the laundry room on the lower level of the lodge, which also held the kitchen. He pulled her things from the dryer and handed them to her.

“What more could a girl ask for?” she kidded with a smile, and her heart did a little twist at the promise in his eyes as he responded.

“How about a man who can cook?” he teased, his emerald eyes alive with merriment.

“I take that to mean that you’ll make something to eat while I get dressed?”

“Sure, but don’t expect anything too fancy,” he replied as she dashed back up to the other floor to change in his bedroom and then find her knapsack. Her editor was likely wondering what was up, but she was surprised to find that he had yet to call.

Tucking her phone into her jeans pocket, she skipped back down the stairs to the kitchen, where Galen was busy frying up some bacon. The smoky smell mingled with that of the bread he was toasting in a small oven. A metal basket with eggs sat on the counter beside a bowl and whisk. She walked over and said, “Scrambled?”

“Sure. I eat about six of them myself, though,” he warned, and she peeked over at the bacon to see he probably a full pound cooking in the large cast-iron skillet.

He had a big appetite, but then again, he was a big man. And a were-cougar, although even as that thought came, it sounded as impossible as it had the day before. But the night had proved that he wasn’t crazy and that it wasn’t impossible.

Cracking another two eggs for herself, she whisked them up and poured them into a second cast-iron pan he had set on the stove to heat along with some butter.

They worked in a companionable and comfortable silence, clearly attuned to each other despite the fact that they had barely spent any time together, even a year ago. But it had been the same way, back then, which was maybe why they had bonded so quickly.

While the eggs were cooking, she set places at a breakfast bar off to one side of the kitchen that looked out onto a deck along the lower level of his home. The view from this side was different, providing vistas of the valleys and mountains to the west of Cat’s Claw. In the far distance there was even the hint of a church steeple above the tree line. Everywhere she looked, the area was covered with the snow that had fallen the night before.

He joined her a moment later, carrying plates heaped with eggs and bacon. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Although she was a city girl at heart, she couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking. “Gorgeous and very relaxing. I can see why you chose to come up here to heal.”

He placed the dishes on the bar and then returned with the toast, butter and jelly. “Coffee, mugs and fixings are on the counter.”

“You like yours light and sweet, right?” she asked, and walked over to prep the coffees.

Galen tried not to be pleased that she remembered something as mundane as how he liked his coffee. Of course, they had shared at least three breakfasts when they had first met and been so powerfully attracted to each other.

He sat on the stool at the breakfast bar, admiring the way her jeans molded to the shape of her ass. He wanted to touch again, but he drove away that want since he knew that as soon as breakfast was over, he had to convince her to return to town. Although he only shifted a few days a month, he feared what could happen to her if she stayed and he got free. But he worried just as much about how they could both be hurt emotionally by becoming even more involved.

But his thoughts scattered when she turned and the lush curves of her breasts stretched the sweatshirt, which seemed to have shrunk a bit thanks to his laundering skills.

They sat kitty-corner to each other with Jamie facing the windows while he looked toward her and the kitchen. Their knees brushed occasionally as they ate, silent once again as hunger demanded fulfillment.

She made short work of her portion of the eggs and bacon, dragging a smile from him as she enthusiastically said, “That was delicious.”

“Nothing better than fresh from the farm.” He had a number of local farmers and dairymen leave fresh supplies at his gate every few days. A weekly delivery from the local general store filled in anything else he might need.

“Definitely,” she replied with a mischievous grin, snagging a piece of bacon from his plate.

“You’ll pay for that,” he warned gruffly, but it didn’t keep her from snatching a piece of his toast also.

He was about to tease her with the details of just how he intended to punish her when her cell phone rang.

She made a moue of annoyance when she read the number and left the breakfast bar. Running a hand through the shoulder-length strands of her hair, she began to pace and said, “Good morning, Frank.”

Frank, her editor. A hard-ass from what Galen recollected of their discussion about him so long ago.

“Is it a good morning?” Frank challenged, and Galen was thankful that the cougar powers that lingered also included very acute hearing.

“Not really. There was a major storm up here that’s kept me snowbound. It may take me some more time to reach Hawke.”

Galen tried not to let her impersonal use of his last name bother him, not to mention the fact that she had apparently come up here primarily to interview him.

“You have a day, Jamie. If you don’t have it by then…”

“I know the punishment, Frank. I’m a big girl. I can handle it if that’s what you decide to do.”

He had a guess as to what “it” involved, and once again anger rose up in him at the reason for her visit. He told himself that it didn’t matter. There could never be a lasting relationship between them now anyway, but her ulterior motives still stung. Despite his misgivings, in his heart he had hoped she had come up here to see him.

Jamie ended the call with a determined button push and walked back to where Galen sat. He shoved around the last of his eggs and a lonely bacon strip, his gaze locked on the plate.

She leaned against the breakfast bar and bent her head so that it would be nearly impossible for him to avoid her.

“It’s not what you think.”

His head shot up then and the earlier warmth in his eyes iced over, leaving them the dead green of fallen pine needles. “I think you came up here for another scoop and that if you don’t get it, your bastard editor is going to fire your ass.”

“You overheard, I guess.”

He shrugged. “Supersensitive hearing. The cougar again.”

With a resigned sigh, she hopped back up onto the stool and laid her hands on her thighs. She rubbed them, nervous energy growing inside her. “I was told to come up here and get an interview, and yes, Frank will likely fire me if I don’t, but then again, I kind of expected that he would anyway.”

“And why is that?” Galen asked, and finally picked up the last bit of bacon and ate it.

“Because I knew that even if I got to see you, the questions I asked would have nothing to do with the interview and everything to do with me. With us,” she said, motioning to the two of them before plowing ahead.

“That dedication was for me, but so was the apology. Why, Galen? Why bother if you didn’t want me to come back?”

He rested his big hands on the edge of the breakfast bar, gripping it tightly as he seemed to consider her words. Shaking his head, he said, “Did you read the book?”

She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t get past that damned dedication page.”

“Maybe you should.”

Anger rose up quickly at his demand. “You want me to read the book to find out what’s in here?” she asked and reached out, laid her hand over his heart.

One side of his mouth quirked up in the beginning of a grin. “That’s one thing I loved about you right off the bat—your directness.”

“Damn it, Galen. Don’t use a word like ‘love’ unless you really mean it.” She hopped down from the stool and paced a step or two before facing him, hands held out in pleading.

“Do you know what it was like to find out you’d been in a near fatal accident? To reach out to you and have you turn me away, again and again?”

A guilty flush of color swept over his features. “I can imagine. I was out of it for days and when they finally let me go, I had planned on calling you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” she challenged.

“You can still ask that after what happened last night? After seeing what I am now?” He tossed the words right back at her.

“Damn it, Galen. Do you think that matters to me?” she said, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around him. His body was rigid beneath her hands, the tension obvious.

“It matters to me, Jamie. I can’t give you any kind of life anymore.” He reached down and gently drew her arms away from him. Shooting a half glance out the windows, he said, “We need to get you back down the mountain before it gets much later. There’s another storm coming soon.”

Hurt by yet another rejection, she snapped back. “Is that another cougar trait? Sensing the storm?”

He surprised her with a chuckle and the hint of a smile. “Try the Weather Channel. I checked while you were getting changed.”

Even that tiny upturn of his lips was enough to tug at her heart. It would be hard to leave him, but she had never been one to give up. She’d be back whether he liked it or not.

“Let me get my things,” she said, and he seemed shocked by her ready acquiescence. Good. Maybe it would give him something to think about as they trudged down the mountain.

She nearly ran up the stairs while he followed. They separated on the main level to go their different ways. Near the couch, she tugged on her calf-high hiking boots, hoping they would be enough protection against the cold and foot-high snow. Wrapping her thick scarf around her throat, she looked for her hat, but it was nowhere to be found. She had likely lost it on her flight to safety.

With her knapsack secured over her shoulders, she glanced down the hall to find Galen coming her way, his long, determined strides eating up the space between them.

“I thought you might need these.” He handed her gloves, but then opted to slip the knit cap over her head, the simple gesture surprisingly intimate. He stroked a hand along the fringes of hair that stuck out from beneath the cap and hesitated, his gaze wistful for a fleeting moment.

Then he was all action, hurrying to the door, making her nearly run to keep up with those long-legged strides.

The cold hit them as soon as he opened the door. High drifts of snow against the house greeted them along with uneven mounds of wind-driven snow on the path leading down to the logging road. On a good day it was nearly a fifteen-minute walk on foot. They’d be lucky to trudge down in an hour. She wondered how long it would take to dig out her Jeep once they reached it.

Galen took the lead, plowing through the snow with his powerful legs and making it a bit easier for her to follow in his wake. With each stride, however, her legs grew more and more tired. Snow leaked in through every seam in her boots, creating a wet chill that was seeping into her bones.

More than once, Galen had to stop for her to catch up to him. On one such rest, a sudden movement in the brush just ahead of them had him sweeping his arm around to keep her behind him and protected.

She peered around his body and watched as first one head and then another popped up out of a mix of snow and underbrush.

“Wild dogs,” he warned as one of them shook off the snow and leaves and trotted out to block their path. It was soon joined by another four dogs of varying sizes. Most were mixed breeds and one of them was limping badly, clearly injured.