Night of the Cougar. Caridad Piñeiro

whipped his head around then, nailing her with the intensity of his gaze. “Funny thing, time. Do you know how much time the shooter got?”

      She racked her brain, trying to remember if any of the newspaper accounts she’d read had mentioned the sentence, but failed to recall. At the shake of her head, he plowed on, possibly even angrier.

      “He didn’t. The Feds wanted him to flip on someone. Gave him immunity and a new life in the Witness Protection Program.”

      Which explained the birth of Galen’s detective hero Jack Fitzgerald. In Jack’s world, justice was always served, in one way or another, and the assorted criminals always got their asses kicked for good measure.

      “I’m sorry for your friend and for what happened, but not for where it led you. I suspect you like this life a lot better.”

      Better? Galen considered her statement as he released his death grip on the mug. She slipped her hands into his. They were smooth and slightly cool against his rough palms. Surprisingly, even just that simple touch produced a tangle of emotions within him. Comfort was something he hadn’t experienced in some time, maybe because he hadn’t allowed himself that sentiment. Desire again wove through him and brought a tightening to his groin.

      It had been a long time. Too long. After coming up here to heal, he’d shut himself off emotionally, and even physically at first. What few relationships he’d had in the five years since retiring from the NYPD had been mostly situations of friends with benefits and, even then, it had been some time since his last benefit.

      As Jamie moved her hand along his, it stirred his imagination. Brought images of those capable hands caressing him, of every curve and valley of her long, lean body plastered against his.

      “It’s getting late,” he said, twining his fingers with hers. “Had you planned on staying in the inn tonight?”

      She peered out the window at the growing darkness of the winter afternoon and then toward the desk in the lobby. “I guess I should. It’s too late to drive back to New York tonight.”

      “I’ve got spare rooms in my lodge. You’re welcome to spend the night.”

      A wicked gleam entered those crystal blue eyes, making them sparkle like sun-kissed frost. “I think we both know that if I go with you, I won’t be staying in a spare room.”

      He grinned, liking her directness. He had never cared for women who played games, and he wanted to be just as straightforward.

      “I don’t normally do this kind of thing, and I suspect you don’t either.”

      She nodded and tenderly squeezed his fingers. “I don’t, but instead of worrying about what happens next—”

      “Let’s savor the now.”

      * * *

      The “now” was to happen in an imposing multilevel lodge that seemed as if it had been built into the side of the mountain. It had taken nearly half an hour to reach it from town. They’d driven a paved logging road that arrived at a large stone and iron gate declaring the boundaries of Galen’s property.

      “This is beautiful,” Jamie said as he led her through the solid hand-carved wooden doors and into a large room that was clearly a renovation of something quite old. The open living space was filled with comfortable couches and chairs situated around a massive stone fireplace.

      “Definitely beautiful,” he murmured, and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Let me get the fire going.”

      She wanted to tell him the fire was already going, just from that one guileless touch, but she held back.

      He pushed off ahead of her, powerful strides carrying him to the fireplace where he tossed in kindling and wood. By the time she walked over, the tinder had caught and the first fiery crackle shot into the room’s slight chill.

      He had ripped off his shearling jacket and tossed it on a chair. While he tinkered with the fire, she walked over and grabbed the jacket, intending to place it on the pegs in a hallway where another coat hung. The jacket held his warmth and his smell. Something piney, reminding her of the forest around them, and totally masculine.

      Like the kindling, desire burst into life within her.

      She hung his coat and placed hers beside it, rubbing her arms with her hands to ward off the chill, although the fire had really caught and was beginning to throw off some heat.

      Galen was on one knee before the fire, tending it. She walked to where he knelt and raked her fingers through the tousled strands of his hair.

      “The fire feels good already.”

      He grunted a response and rose, once again stirring her with his sheer size. She dropped her hand to his nape, and he shivered.

      “Your hand is cold.”

      He reached up and grasped it gently, then joined it with her other hand between his palms. “Let me warm you up.” He rubbed her hands briskly, but that was far from how she had envisioned him chasing away the chill.

      Still, she liked that he wasn’t rushing to jump her bones. It spoke volumes about the kind of man he was.

      That only made her want to jump his bones, right then and there.

      Easing her hands from his, she said, “I have a better idea for how you can warm me up.”

      Before he could protest, she quickly slipped her hands beneath his black knit sweater. “Way cold,” he murmured again, but chuckled as she worked her hands up his body to cup the thick swell of muscle on his chest.

      “But getting warmer,” Jamie teased, and leaned closer. The very obvious ridge of his erection beneath his jeans brushed against her.

      “Let me check on that,” Galen replied, easing his hands beneath the thermal fabric of her shirt. She jumped at the chill of his fingers and the sexy roughness of his palms. She liked men who worked with their hands. As he dragged them upward to cup her breasts, they left a trail of heat along her body.

      In one smooth move, he undid her bra and yanked her shirt over her head, baring her to his gaze. “So very gorgeous.” He covered her with his hands, stroking the tight nubs of her nipples with his thumbs.

      “No fair. I’d like to see also,” she kidded. He bent a bit so she could pull his shirt over his head and then explore the broad plains of his shoulders and chest while he continued to caress her with his hands.

      So big, she thought to herself and wondered if his cock would be as impressive, but as he shifted one hand to the small of her back and pressed her close, she had her answer.

      She nearly moaned at the size of him against her belly, and between her legs, dampness wet her panties at the thought of all that driving into her. The thought yanked a moan from her and he stilled.

      “Did I hurt you?” Concern rang in every word.

      “Only if you stop touching me.”

      He groaned, and the sound reverberated through that powerful chest and into her, making her clit swell with need and her vagina clench in anticipation. Dropping one hand down, she cupped him through his jeans, stroking him, urging him to do the same to her. As he opened her jeans and slipped his hand to her center, he sucked in a shaky breath.

      “So hot and wet. I want to feel that, Jamie. I want to taste you.”

      She nearly came right then and there from his words and the first tentative sweep of his long, thick fingers across her cleft. As it was, her knees nearly buckled, and he steadied her before backing her toward the large leather sofa in front of the fireplace.

      Galen eased her onto the surface of the couch and then knelt before her. Not an easy thing to do in his condition. His cock was so hard that not even his normally comfortable jeans were helping. And the sight of her, golden from the flames of the fire, those gorgeous breasts right there…

      He