Page 9 of Cougar Chronicles

“It’s Jack,” he said. “Jack Sherwood. No more cowboy.” He opened the door, picked up her portfolio and bag of groceries and waited for her to walk in.

Her nerves rattled as she entered. He followed her in and set the portfolio and groceries on her kitchen counter.

“Well, thank you for your help,” she said. “I can manage now.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Not so fast. You haven’t told me your name yet, sugar.”

“Sugar’s fine.”

“The hell it is.” He walked to the door, shut it, and leaned back against it. “You left me that morning without even waking me to say goodbye. I thought we had a good time. I wanted to see you again. Why’d you pull a stunt like that?”

Holly’s heart raced. He’d wanted to see her again? This had to be some kind of sick joke. “It was a one-night stand, cowboy.”

“Jack.”

She sighed. “Do you understand what a one-night stand is? One night of mind blowing sex? I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept.”

“That’s not what I’m about.”

“Well, that’s what I was about that particular night,” Holly said. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Really I am. I was in a bad place that night and all I wanted was…” She closed her eyes and sighed again.

“You ever going to tell me your name?”

“I think it’s better to leave it—” She opened her eyes. “Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

Jack had grabbed her purse from the counter and fished out her wallet. He opened it and pulled out a credit card. “Holly. Holly S. Taylor. What’s the S stand for?”

“None of your goddamn business.”

“Susan?”

“No.”

“Sheila?” He gave a short laugh.

“Hell, no.”

He smiled a heart-stopping smile. “Sugar?”

Holly couldn’t help but return his grin. “It’s Solange, if you must know. It’s my mother’s name. She’s French.”

“Very pretty.” He replaced the credit card and handed the wallet to her. Her skin tingled when his fingers grazed hers.

“Listen,” he said. “You’re never going to convince me the sex wasn’t amazing that night. I know you felt it.”

She shuddered. His voice was like hot silk. “I n-never said it wasn’t amazing.”

“Truth is,Holly, nobody’s gotten under my skin like that in…well, ever.” He advanced toward her like a wolf stalking its prey.

She backed away, not paying attention to her whereabouts, until she found herself trapped against her own refrigerator. A fairy magnet dug into her back.

“When I saw you sitting in that class today, all fresh and beautiful, I was both ecstatic and angry at the same time. You know what I mean?”

“N-No.”

He placed his palms on the refrigerator, on either side of shoulders, trapping her. His scent drifted around her—cedar wood, spice, and male musk. She could inhale it forever and never tire of it.

“I think you do.” He looked above her head for a moment, as if composing himself, and then gazed back into her eyes. “When I woke up that morning and you were gone, I turned that suite inside out searching for something—anything—that would lead me to you.”

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