Page 8 of Cougar Chronicles

Quickly she gathered her papers together and shoved them in her portfolio. If she left now, a few minutes before class was actually over, she could escape before cowboy left the room. She’d draw another sketch—one that wasn’t x-rated—at home and bring it to class next week.

Yeah, that would work.

She stood up quickly and quietly and walked out of the room. A sweltering heat swept over her. Cowboy was watching her. She could feel it.

She stopped in the ladies’ room and splashed some cold water on her face. It didn’t work. She was still hot and bothered, but at least she looked a little better—not pale and wan as when she’d first looked in the mirror. The frigid water had added rosiness to her cheeks. She stood at the counter, grasping the Formica, breathing in and out.

Calm down, Holly. It’s over.

After one final deep breath, she hurried to her car and drove the short distance to her downtown loft. Her arms full with her portfolio, briefcase and the small bag of groceries she’d picked up before class, she keyed in the code with her nose and slipped through the door. The elevator was closing so she ran and slid through just in time. She hit the number three with her elbow and collapsed against the elevator wall for the short ride up.

When the door opened, she tightened her grip on all her belongings and headed toward the door to her loft. Dropping the groceries to the floor, she fumbled one-handed in her purse for her key.

Sheesh, it was hot in the hallway. Beads of sweat trickled from her hairline, down her forehead and into her eyes. She blinked at the sting. Why was it so damn hot?

With an exasperated sigh, she threw down her portfolio and began emptying her purse.

“Need some help, sugar?”

Four

That deep, whiskey-smooth voice…

She turned, and there they were—those piercing dark eyes. He looked incredible, almost as delicious as he looked naked. His western shirt was forest green, silky, and unbuttoned at the top. A few black strands of chest hair peeked out. His jeans fit as snugly as she remembered, and he wore scuffed brown leather boots. She could see him on horseback, riding the range, the wind tearing through that gorgeous sable hair.

She looked away and huffed. “What are you, some kind of stalker?”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Can’t say I’ve done anything like this before.”

“How’d you get in here?”

“Some doormen can be bribed.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a doorman.”

He gave a lazy half-smile. “Okay, you got me. Some horny women can be bribed.”

Horny women?

“Sheila.”

Her man-hungry neighbor had been known to be free with the passcode. Now Holly’d have to call management and get it changed again.

“That her name?”

“Did she have bleached blond hair and a voice hoarse from smoking?”

“That’d be the one.” He fingered his stubbled jawline.

Holly tried not to gape.

“Damn her anyway.” Holly continued her relentless search for her keys.

Cowboy gently pried the purse from her grasp and pulled out her keys. “This what you’re lookin’ for?”

She grabbed her purse. “Yes. Thank you, cowboy.”

He miraculously picked the right key and fit it into her lock.

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