Surging upward, he took her in one powerful thrust, lifting her off her feet. In response, she wrapped her legs around his waist and grabbed his shoulders for purchase.
He braced one hand on the tiles and turned them so that the jets were sluicing warm water across her breasts and down to where their bodies where joined. As hot as the water was, she was so much warmer as she held him inside her.
He shifted his hips, drawing out before another intense thrust freed her release.
She arched her back and cried out his name, dug her fingers into his shoulders. He waited for that first wave to pass before he began the rhythm that would take her to yet more pleasure.
Jamie held on, nearly boneless from the passion he was rousing. Heart hammering in her chest and insides vibrating as swell after swell washed over her, she felt pleasure like none she had ever experienced with a man before. Her response dragged Galen to his own rough climax.
Pulling him toward her, she nibbled her way up his jaw to the shell of his ear.
“I love you, Galen. Nothing can ever change that.”
He stilled, buried deep inside her, and groaned like a man in pain. “I wish things could be different. I really do.”
She cradled his face in her hands and met his troubled gaze. “Love will find a way, Galen. Believe that.”
He wanted to believe. So much. But he had always been a practical man and with what he had seen of life as a cop, maybe he understood more than most that some things weren’t meant to be.
All desire and hope shriveled up inside of him. As he slipped out of her loving depths, he gently urged her to her feet. In strained silence, they dried off, and he snagged his T-shirt and sweats from the floor and dragged them on. They returned to his bedroom, and he grabbed her clothes, holding them up as he said, “I’ll dry these , and then I’ve got some work to do. You can grab my robe or any of the clothes in my closet.”
He didn’t wait for her to finish dressing before almost running from the room. He needed to be away from her in the hopes that he could make sense of all that had happened with them in the past two days.
Jamie watched him run, thinking that at that moment he looked a lot like that pack of wild dogs, scared and defeated.
In some ways, he was like the Galen she had first met a year ago, hiding up here in his lodge and behind the pages of his books to get over the loss of his partner and his own near-death.
Now he was hiding in his work again and his words came back at her then. Did you read the book?
She recalled the look in his eyes, full of both hope and apology, as he’d said it.
She tossed aside the towel and snatched up his robe. The soft terry cloth smelled of him and as it rubbed against the sensitive tips of her breasts, they puckered. She wondered if maybe she was the animal, what with her seemingly being in heat when she was around him.
Shoving back that awakening need, she went to the living room and her knapsack. She pulled out her copy of Galen’s book and contemplated hunkering down on the couch before the fire, but wanted to be somewhere more private. Someplace where she could feel closer to Galen.
Returning to his bedroom, she ignored the leather ties and straps around each of the four posts and climbed into his bed. The gas fireplace had heated the room to toastiness, but she still pulled up the comforter for added warmth. Fluffing the pillows behind her head, she turned up the light on the nightstand beside the bed and started reading.
Chapter Nine
He had been down in his office on the lower level for hours, but had gotten little writing done. Instead, he had spent the better part of the afternoon staring out the window at the snow accumulating outside, which was showing no signs of letting up.
There was no way Jamie would be able to leave tomorrow or even the next day, if the storm kept up.
Switching on the large-screen television on one wall of his office, he flipped to a local cable weather and traffic station. The angry red crawler along the bottom of the screen warned of blizzard conditions in the area. The reporter’s comments and animated weather predictions weren’t comforting.
Heavy snow throughout today and tomorrow. Accumulations of as much as three feet with four possible at the higher elevations, like Cat’s Claw Mountain.
Four feet.
She wouldn’t be able to leave for days, he thought.
Inside of him came a lightening of his soul, and the pressure and pain around his heart eased at the thought of being with her for several more days.
He was a damn fool, he knew. Once the snow let up she had to go, he told himself. But for now she was his.
A deep rumble of pleasure erupted within him and this time he didn’t fight it.
Facing his keyboard once again, he finally got to work.
* * *
Jack Fitzgerald, Galen’s fictional detective, had finally fallen in love.
With her.
Okay, maybe not with her, but with someone just like her, right down to the little birthmark she had on her left hip.
As Jamie tore through the pages, eating up the action-packed scenes peppered with some poignant and sexy exchanges between Jack and Caitlin, the heroine, she understood why Frank had said the work was Galen’s best. It wasn’t to say that his other books had been bad. His bestseller status attested to the fact that readers loved his work.
But this book was inspired because of the many layers of emotion in every scene. Complex and intense, the emotions would resonate with readers who not only wanted Jack to solve the case, but wanted to discover whether or not the relationship with Caitlin would end with a happily-ever-after.
Hell, she wanted to know almost as badly as she wished for her and Galen to find happiness somehow.
The hours passed, and with an occasional glance out the windows along one wall of the bedroom, Jamie noted the ever-increasing piles of fluffy white building against the sides of the lodge and along the nearby hills and valleys.
She smiled, knowing that with each thick snowflake that fell, the odds of spending more time with Galen increased.
“I guess you’re enjoying it,” he said from the doorway, startling her.
Not wanting to reveal the real reason for her joy, she dog-eared her spot in the book and closed it. “It’s…wonderful.”
“Really? You don’t find Caitlin a little too mouthy? Or demanding?” he teased, sauntering into the room with a decidedly masculine swagger.
She sensed the change in his mood. Playful. Sexy. The difference was a good thing that she wouldn’t second-guess.
“Definitely a problem child. I can’t imagine why Jack would want to keep her around,” she kidded back, and laid the book on the nightstand.
“I’m hungry. Got anything to eat?” she said.
Galen chuckled and arched one blondish eyebrow. “Demanding, much?”
“A girl’s got to eat to keep her energy up,” she replied, and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Galen wagged his head. “Mouthy and demanding. Luckily, I had a delivery made before the storm, so we have lots to eat.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She ripped off the comforter, slid to the edge of the bed and slipped her feet into his oversize furry slippers.
He dutifully followed her as they went down to the kitchen and she opened up the fridge. It was packed with enough food for well over a week. Fresh vegetables and berries, cheeses, milk, cream and assorted cuts of beef and chicken were crammed onto the shelves.
She pulled out a package with two thick strip steaks. “How about these with some veggies?”
“I’m game. I like mine rare,” he said. At her questioning glance, he added, “I always have.”
“Thank the Lord. I wasn’t ready to watch you chow down on anything raw,” she confessed, and started yanking out potatoes and salad fixings from the fridge.
“How about some wine?” Galen asked, staying out of her way for the moment since she had assumed control.
“I could go for a nice c
ab.”
He strolled into a combo pantry and wine cellar just off the kitchen and stood there, trying to remember where he had put the cabernets. He had always been a beer kind of guy, but his editor and publisher kept sending him gifts to celebrate his various milestones and he had finally relented and had the floor-to-ceiling wine cellar installed to handle the offerings plus a few of his own eclectic purchases. He finally located a cabernet and returned to the kitchen, where Jamie was busy wrapping up the potatoes in aluminum foil.
“Is this one any good?” He held up the bottle so she could read the label.
“Napa Valley, 2008. Should be good. Why don’t you open it and let it breathe a bit,” she said while she slid the potatoes into the oven and went to work on fixing a salad.
“Bossy and pompous I should have written,” he teased, but did as she asked.
“So you admit that I’m the fictional Caitlin.”
He slapped his forehead with his hand playfully. “Damn. I forgot how humble you are as well.”
She grinned and elbowed him mischievously. “Why don’t you set the table?”
He was sure she meant the breakfast bar, but he had something more elegant in mind for tonight’s dinner.
Walking back into the pantry, he grabbed some of his fine china, silver and crystal as well as a linen tablecloth as white as the snow outside. He put it all on a serving tray and went to the dining room just down the hall.
Although he rarely had guests, the architect with whom he had worked on renovating the old ski lodge that was now his home had insisted on a dining room.
Galen was glad, because he loved the rustic quality of the room, which had once been a parlor where skiers warmed up after a day on the slopes located a few miles away. He quickly laid out the settings on the immense oak table and added nearly half-a-dozen candles. He lit them and then turned his attention to starting a fire for added light and warmth.
He kept the lodge chilly because in his new state he didn’t feel the cold as much, but he knew Jamie did and he wanted her to be comfortable. When the fire was going, he dimmed the lights in the room and returned to the kitchen.
Jamie was at the grill, tossing his steak beside the one that had already been cooking for a bit. She looked decidedly domestic. He had only seen a little bit of this side of her during their time together, and he decided he liked it. She worked competently and efficiently, much as she did everything else, but there was passion there also. It was evident in the way she handled and tasted what she was preparing.
He smiled, thinking that he could get used to seeing her like this, but he held back from saying it. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them, given the precarious state of their relationship.
She looked up at him then, contentment on her face. She was feeling the same as he was, and it wrenched his gut into a pretzel that he would have to disappoint her again. She must have sensed his mood since her eyes lost some of their warmth.
“Dinner won’t be much longer,” she said, almost apologetically.
He wanted to soothe her and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. “There’s no rush, Jamie. We’re not going anywhere.”
She said nothing, only embraced him and laid her head on his chest.
They stood there for silent minutes, just holding each other, until the timer she had set dinged and sent her into action at the grill.
Galen moved away, grabbing the salad and wine and taking it out to the dining room. After he had set them on the table, he stood by the windows and watched the snow as it whirled and danced, driven by the wind, before it settled on the ground. Like people, each flake was unique and apart, but alone they soon disappeared. It was only when they were together with others that they finally amounted to something.
In his heart, he sadly wondered if he was like that singular snowflake, destined to be nothing other than a momentary glimmer of life.
Jamie came in a moment later, carrying a plate with the steaks. “I wasn’t sure where you’d gone. This is lovely.”
She laid the plate on the table and then walked over to where he stood by the windows. “The steaks can rest for a few minutes and by then the potatoes will be done.”
“Thanks for cooking,” he said, but made no motion to touch her.
“Not a problem. I was starting to feel like a slug, just lying there in bed and doing nothing.” She wrapped her arms around herself, almost as if uncertain of what to do with them.
“You weren’t doing nothing. You were reading,” he reminded her, and smiled, recalling her earlier comments about the book.
“I was at that—and reading a very good book I might add,” she teased, but as a faraway ding sounded, she scurried away.
Galen took the moment to pour their wine, transfer the steaks to their plates and scoop out some salad for each of them.
Jamie returned quickly with the potatoes slathered with butter and sour cream.
“It all looks great,” he said, and held out her chair for her.
“Thanks,” she said as she took the seat kitty-corner to where he sat at the head of the table.
They ate in companionable silence, satisfying their earlier hunger. The only sound was the clink of cutlery until the plates were nearly licked clean.
“I guess we were hungry,” Jamie said.
Galen rubbed his stomach. “Definitely. Feel like some dessert?”
“Maybe later,” she replied, standing and reaching for a dirty dish, but he covered his hand with hers.
“It’s only fair that since you cooked, I’ll clean. Why don’t you pour some more wine and go relax.”
As if she hadn’t been relaxing for hours before dinner, but she wasn’t about to turn down his generous offer. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
He nodded and she left the dining room, stopping off at his bedroom to retrieve the book and then settling herself on the couch in the living room.
Galen must have stoked the fire off and on during the day. There was a nice flame going and, beneath it, a sizable pile of glowing embers. She took a spot on the couch closest to the fire, grabbed a throw from nearby and settled in to read.
Much as it had before, the story immediately sucked her in. She flipped the pages quickly, pausing every now and then for a sip of the excellent cabernet he had poured. The sounds of dishes clinking and running water drifted out from the kitchen.
About half an hour later, Galen came in with a serving tray bearing the bottle with the last of the wine and bowls filled with luscious ripe strawberries and whipped cream. He placed the tray on the large square leather ottoman before her and refilled their glasses. After, he stretched out on the floor in front of the fire, pillowed his head on one hand and with the other, began to read from a book he had taken from the top of the ottoman.
Jamie returned to Jack and Caitlin’s story, devouring the growing romance between them as well as the action-packed suspense that had earned Galen such a large following. The story was moving so quickly that she forgot about the wine and berries until she reached the end.
“You did it. You gave Jack a happily-ever-after. Why?”
Galen laid down the book he was reading and turned his head in her direction. “When I wrote the book I was actually thinking it might be possible for someone like Jack.”
Someone like him he meant.
Shifting from the couch, she sat at his side and laid her hand on his midsection, stroking it tenderly. “It is possible for everyone, Galen. Even you.”
He laughed harshly and stopped the motion of her hand. “How, Jamie? How can we ever have that now, with what I am?”
She pulled her hand away from beneath his and twined her fingers with his. “Do you really think you were any less damaged before the accident?”
Her question clearly shocked him. A very visible recoil made him jerk beneath their joined hands, but she pushed on.
“You weren’t living before, Galen. Not really. You were hiding up here,
living your life vicariously through Jack Fitzgerald, super dick.”
He sat up and angrily raked a hand through his hair. “ That’s a low blow.”
Trying to ease the sting of her words and his anger, she said, “I can’t blame you after what happened. You needed to heal, and you did.”
Cradling his face in her hands, she scooted on the floor until she was pressed along his side. “It’s time, Galen. I want to help you heal now.”
Just like she had a year ago, Galen thought. It had been her spirit and loving that had made him want to live again, to savor all that she had to offer him. Now, here she was once more, giving of herself without hesitation.
“God, Jamie, I love you, but it scares me to think of what could happen if you stay here,” he admitted. Reaching across his body, he lifted her up into his lap.
She straddled his hips and pressed herself against him. Leaning forward, she whispered, “We will find a way, Galen.”
Galen wanted to believe. He wanted to imagine that, like Jack, he could have his happily-ever-after. With her in his arms, with the beat of her heart against his, with the soft curve of her breasts and the warm spill of her breath against his face, he imagined it might be possible.
A rumble began inside him, growing into a contented purr that vanished in a heartbeat as he tensed.
“No, Galen. It’s okay. It’s part of who you are now,” she said, and stroked her hands along his shoulders before tilting her head up to graze her lips along his jaw. “I’m not afraid, love.”
He sighed and laid his forehead against hers. “I’m afraid, Jamie. Afraid I’ll hurt you.”
She chuckled and took hold of his hand, eased it beneath his robe to rest over her breast. “I’m pretty sturdy. See,” she said, and then urged his hand down across the toned muscles of her abdomen.
He groaned as her actions roused him, and the animal inside, which remembered the smell and taste of her, wanted another bite. “What if I can’t handle the cougar?”
“How about you let me worry about taming the beast?” she said, reaching down between them, stroking her hand over his rapidly growing erection.
Night of the Cougar Page 6