Читать книгу Night of the Cougar - Caridad Pineiro - Страница 7

Chapter Three

One year later

New York City

Jamie drove away the desire she felt, creating an ache in her chest that she had to quell.

Forget about him, she thought as she gathered her research for another story she was working on for a future issue. Forgetting was hard to do, however, as she called the Cat’s Claw Inn to reserve a room for the next few days. She would head up tomorrow morning and stay at the inn while she tried to get Galen to see her again.

The innkeeper’s perkiness grated against Jamie’s frazzled emotions and she hurried the woman off the phone by rattling off her credit card information and cell phone number. Dropping her phone back into the cradle, she wished she’d made the reservations online.

Stuffing everything into her leather knapsack, she headed home, but even there she couldn’t escape Galen.

As soon as she entered, her gaze settled on her copy of Galen’s book sitting on her desk. She dropped her keys on a foyer table and her knapsack on the floor and slowly, reluctantly, walked over.

The cover and top few pages had a curl at one corner from the many times she had opened the book and tried to read it. She had never gotten past that damning dedication and note.

She once again flipped through the pages until she reached that spot. In the printer’s neat typeface it read, “To J. Thanks for pulling me back into the world.”

But in smudged ink in larger masculine script Galen had written, “I’m sorry.”

She was sorry, too. Sorry she’d had wild animal sex with him. Sorry she had made a fool of herself with all those calls after he’d been hurt.

Sorry that she had ever met him.

Tossing the book back on the desk, she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. Then she headed to her bedroom, intent on driving him out of her mind with a good read.

But not even the latest romance from her favorite author helped. If anything, every time the sexy hero sauntered onto the pages bare chested in his formfitting jeans, she pictured Galen.

Disgusted, she gulped down the rest of her wine and hunkered down to sleep, hoping Galen would stay out of her dreams.

* * *

The skies were a leaden-gray and a ferocious wind rocked her Jeep Wrangler as she drove from New York City to Cat’s Claw Mountain the next morning. The first flakes of snow had begun in Connecticut and grown heavier with each passing mile, slowing her arrival at the inn. Once she had checked in and dropped off her bags, she had headed up the mountain to Galen’s, hoping to beat out the worst of the storm.