The Cowboy and the Cougar (The Cougar Chronicles #1)(11)

Jack’s husky chuckle was too low to resonate over the din of the restaurant, but Holly felt its vibration. Very sexy. Then again, everything he did was sexy.

"You do like a good steak, don’t you, sugar?"

"Yes, I do."

His smile was pure sin. "So many women these days won’t eat red meat. Heck, they won’t eat anything but rabbit food."

"Well, I enjoy eating," Holly said, "and life is too short not to do the things we enjoy."

"True enough," Jack agreed.

He had no idea how true. The man hadn’t even hit thirty yet. The whisper of a chill skittered up Holly’s neck. She hated thinking about his age. Thinking about his age led to the myriad reasons they could never be together long term. That saddened her, truly. She liked this man more with every minute she spent in his company. He was so much more than a hot cowboy. He was a father, a son, a rancher. Her lips curved. A nude model.

She had to end it tonight. The more time she devoted to him, the harder the heartbreak would be when it ended.

And it would end. That was inevitable.

"So you ready?" Jack said.

Holly nodded and rose. "Yeah, let’s go. Thanks so much for the dinner."

"My pleasure." He stood and helped her with her light sweater. "The gallery’s only a block away. Nice night for a walk."

She nodded again. "I’d like that."

"You okay, sugar? You sound a little down all of a sudden."

Just thinking about turning you loose tonight.

She sighed. "I’m fine, Jack. Just a little tired. But I don’t want to miss this exhibit. I’m a huge fan of Professor Fleming’s work. I hope this exhibit will be his big break."

"He’s hoping so, too." He took her hand and guided her around the tables and out the door of the restaurant.

He continued to hold her hand as they walked. The spring night was balmy and downtown Denver was hopping. Every woman who passed them seemed to be checking Jack out and Holly couldn’t help but wonder what they thought of her, the older woman, on the arm of the hot young cowboy. Her skin prickled with conspicuousness. They didn’t talk during the short walk and Holly breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the small gallery.

A hostess greeted them with glasses of wine and a tray of hors d’oeuvres, which Holly declined. She was so full from dinner she might never eat again.

"There’s Mark," Jack said, gesturing. "Want to go say hi?"

Holly shook her head. "I’m sure he’s busy."

"Not too busy for his favorite godson." Jack pulled Holly along behind him as he made a beeline for Professor Fleming.

"Jack, good of you to come," Professor Fleming said as they approached. "Meet my agent, Mary Rivers."

A small blonde woman held out her hand. Jack shook it, and then said, "This is Holly Taylor."

"A pleasure, Ms. Taylor," Professor Fleming said. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

Holly cleared her throat. "I’m in your perceptual drawing class at the community college."

"Ah, yes, that’s it." He reddened just a bit, but Holly noticed. "Then you were there when Jack—"

"Yeah, she was, but that’s not how we met, so get your mind out of the gutter." Jack exchanged a smile with the older man.

Holly’s cheeks warmed. Get his mind out of the gutter? If he knew how they’d actually met, he wouldn’t think the whole nude model thing was that bad.

She stifled a giggle. "I’m really excited about this exhibit, Professor."

"Please, call me Mark and I hope you enjoy it," he said. "I know Jack’ll take good care of you."

"Count on it, Mark," Jack said, then excused himself and Holly and led her to the first wall of oil paintings.

Holly didn’t enjoy abstracts much, so she was glad Mark had only a few in his exhibit. She much preferred landscapes and portraits. She drank in the colors, the textures, examining each painting closely, then from farther away.

"Wow," Jack said beside her, his warm breath caressing her neck.

"What?"

"You’re looking at each one like it’s unique."

"Each one is unique, silly."

"That’s not what I meant. Heck, I don’t know what I meant. It’s just...beautiful, the way you sink into the art, like you’re becoming one with it."

"I kind of am, I guess. I love art. I always have. I should have learned to create way before now, but—" She sighed. "—life gets in the way sometimes. Decisions get made for the wrong reasons."

Jack said no more and Holly went on to the next painting. It was a little boy on a chestnut horse. Clad in jeans and cowboy boots, he looked to be about five or six years old. Mark had captured his youthful beauty with tiny strokes of the brush. The child’s dark hair and eyes gazed outward, as if he were looking through Holly.

"Gorgeous," she said under her breath.

"You like that one?" Jack said.

"Yes, it’s wonderful. The horse and the child almost seem like one being and the child’s innocence is depicted so beautifully. I can’t believe Mark is only now showing this stuff."

"Oh, I think it’s kind of like you said. Decisions get made. He didn’t decide to get serious about his own work until later in his life."