The Cowboy and the Cougar
Read The Cowboy and the Cougar Online
Authors: Helen Hardt
Warning
This e-book contains erotic scenes that some may find objectionable.
It is intended for adults only as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.
Store your e-books carefully where they cannot be accessed by younger readers.
The Cowboy and the Cougar
Helen Hardt
The Cowboy and the Cougar
Copyright @ 2009
Helen Hardt
This e-book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the Names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
18121-C
Aurora CO 80013
First published by
www.AspenMountainPress.com
This book is licensed to the original purchase only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. The e-book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-60168-261-1
Released in the
United States of America
Editor: Celina Summers
Dedication
To all my friends at Colorado Romance Writers, and special thanks to Lizzie T. Leaf who suggested I write a story for this series.
Chapter One
"Sugar, you look like you just lost your best friend."
The voice was deep and husky. Very sexy. Holly Taylor didn’t look up from her empty martini glass. She speared the remaining gin-soaked olive with her sword-shaped toothpick, twirled it in the last drop of alcohol, and popped it in her mouth. The piquant saltiness exploded across her tongue. She closed her eyes and inhaled.
She’d get through this. She had no choice.
"What can I get you?"
Holly opened her eyes at the female bartender’s squeaky voice. Damned annoying, especially for a swanky hotel bar, but the woman poured a mean martini.
"Scotch, neat," the familiar male voice said, "and another for the lady."
Nope. Not another. Holly was driving. No matter what lay ahead, she couldn’t get drunk and drive home. She turned her head to thank the gentleman and met the darkest, smokiest, most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.
The rest of him wasn’t bad, either.
"You okay?" he asked.
Uh, yeah. Her mouth hung open and she quickly shut it. "Thank you, sir—"
Sir? He had to be at least ten years her junior!
"—but I don’t want another drink."
His eyes twinkled behind their ebony curtain of lashes. "I’m not sure anyone’s ever called me sir, sugar. And you look like you could use another."
Holly stared. She couldn’t help it. His eyes weren’t his only magnificent feature. His face was perfectly sculpted, with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. A few days’ growth of black beard dusted his strong jaw. Onyx hair fell to his shoulders in thick waves. And what shoulders they were—broad, meaty and clad in a white western shirt complete with silver snaps. His jeans, hat and boots completed the picture. Here was a real, honest-to-goodness cowboy in the middle of The Livingston Palace bar in
Denver
.
Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous.
The bartender set down another martini. Holly opened her mouth to speak, but the stud next to her touched her forearm.
Sparks
crept to her cheeks and warmed them.
"It’s okay. I’ll take care of you."
Take care of her? She let out a sigh. If only her life were that simple. She fingered the stem of the martini glass with her free hand and looked into his amazing eyes. He smiled. What the heck? Maybe a few minutes in this handsome young man’s company would take her mind off her problems.
"Thank you," she said. "I may need to take you up on that."
"Any time, sugar." His lazy half-smile dipped as he picked up his drink with his other hand. When the tip of his tongue touched the rim of his glass, Holly’s pulse lurched. She imagined that pink flesh snaking around a hard nipple. One of
her
hard nipples, both of which currently strained against her bra, aching.
Her companion let out a soft laugh. "You gonna drink that? Or just squeeze it till it shatters in your hand?"
Holly looked down at her white-knuckled fingers wringing the glass stem. She exhaled and forced her hand to relax. Lifting the drink to her lips, she said, "Cheers," and gulped the martini.
The gin stung her throat as she set the glass back down on the bar.
She’d had a shit day.
But it was about to get a whole lot better, she hoped.
Her neck chilled, and she inhaled and gathered her courage. "You live around here, Cowboy?"
"Not too far. You?"
Not too far.
He hadn’t asked her name. He was wise to keep the conversation impersonal. No names. That would be best. No ages, either. If this young stud knew she’d just hit forty he’d no doubt run for cover.
"I don’t think I’m going home tonight," she said. "I think I feel like a room. A suite maybe. A jacuzzi suite."
The cowboy’s full lips curved into a grin and his fingers tensed on her forearm. "Are you asking for company?"
Holly’s heart fluttered, but she steadied herself despite the two martinis. She wasn’t drunk. It took more than two drinks to get her tipsy. All signals from the man said go. She hadn’t had sex in a while. Damn, had it been two years now?
She was forty. Forty and alone, with no one to hold her and comfort her as she cried about what was to come.
She didn’t have to be alone tonight.
Tonight, she could escape, albeit temporarily, and make love to a hot younger man. If he were willing, which he seemed to be.
She pushed her empty martini glass toward the bartender and then covered his hand which still warmed her arm. His hands were as beautifully formed as the rest of him, with long thick fingers that would feel really good in lots of places. The soft hair on his knuckles tickled her.
Why not get straight to the point? She met his dark gaze. "If I were asking for company, would you be up for it?"
He downed the rest of his Scotch and smiled. "Can’t think of a better way to spend the evening, sugar."
Holly gulped. She was really going to do this. "Do you have protection?"
"I was a boy scout—" He leaned toward her, and his warm breath caressed her cheek. "—I’m always prepared."
* * * *
She wouldn’t tell him her name and didn’t want to know his.
She’d touched two slender fingers to his lips when he’d tried to introduce himself. "You’re Cowboy to me tonight," she’d said. "And I’m Sugar."
Okay, he’d play along, though he’d insisted on paying for the room. She’d stayed far from the front counter as he reserved the best suite The Livingston had available. She probably didn’t want to get curious and peek at the name on his credit card.
Fine. For now. He had every intention of knowing this beauty’s name and everything else about her before the night was over. Specifically, he wanted to know what or who put that forlorn look in her beautiful eyes.
His hand to her back, he escorted her into the empty elevator. The doors closed.
And she attacked.
His body slammed against the wall of the elevator and her smooth hands cupped either side of his face. She pulled him toward her luscious red lips.
"Kiss me, Cowboy."
She crushed her mouth to his. Though his intent was to play with her a little, hold her off, make her beg, he couldn’t resist the temptation of her honeyed mouth. When her tongue touched his, he sucked it between his lips. It was soft. So soft and wet, and she tasted like the martinis she’d drunk. Gin, a touch of vermouth and some spicy lime. Jack wasn’t sure where the lime had come from, but it was the perfect compliment.
Her lush body molded to his, and her bountiful breasts mashed against his chest. She was tall, his sugar. Tall enough that he, at six-three, didn’t need to strain his neck to kiss her. The silky fabric that covered her plump tits rubbed against him and ignited his loins.
Hell, his loins had been on fire since he’d first seen her. So beautiful and so sad. He’d wanted to help her, hold her, and take away whatever was hurting her.
If he could do that by fucking her, so be it. Yep, that was him. Jack Sherwood. Altruist.
Fuck.
She grabbed his ass and any further thoughts of altruism fled his mind.
This was not altruism. This was lust, pure and simple. He wanted her, and clearly the feeling was mutual.
The elevator dinged and opened, and he broke the kiss with a loud smack. Her lips, scarlet and swollen, curved slightly into a shy smile. She met his gaze then looked away quickly.
"Don’t get bashful with me now, sugar," Jack said. "You’re one hell of a great kisser."
"Who’s bashful?" She met his eyes and her own green orbs smoldered.
He smiled. "My mistake." He pulled her from the elevator and down the hallway to room 1145, and then trapped her against the door as he fumbled for the keycard in his pocket. Again, her body felt perfect against his and his arousal ached in his jeans. He pushed it into her soft belly and arched his eyebrow at her gasp.
"You all right?"
"Yeah, sure Cowboy." She grabbed his ass and pulled him harder against her. "I’m fine."
"Damn, sugar." Fine indeed. His jeans had tightened so much he had a hard time finding the keycard, but he had to find it, and fast. Otherwise he was about to fuck the daylights out of her right there in the hall.
He eased away from her to withdraw the card from his pocket. In a flash her warm hand was at his crotch, cupping him.
"Ah," he groaned and shut his eyes.
Thank God he’d decided to step into the
Livingston
bar after his appointment earlier.
This was going to be one hell of a good night.
