Evelyn Louisa Lewis knew she was dreaming since the chase she was on was one she took several nights a week…she was a crazy eyed, needy cougar with a credit card between her teeth and all the best shops in San Francisco at her claw tips. It was a good dream. The humans she passed were all in awe of her. They gazed longingly at her, whispered words such as ‘sleek’ and ‘gorgeous’ behind their hands at one another and were generally jealous of her fabulousness…
They did not, however, call her ma’am. That would imply that she was o-o-old. A shudder was her first clue that the dream was about to end. The painful scratching between her breasts and the flaming itch on the inside of her thighs suggested that reality was going to suck worse than losing her lovely dream world.
“It’s time to rise and shine, ma’am.”
Slowly, last night was coming back to her. Jefferson Elmore Huntsmore, first son of the SF clan’s alpha, playboy extraordinaire and the giver of fabulous trinkets had enticed her into a game of chase. Normally she’d have turned her nose up at such a loathsome waste of her time, but the prize for winning was a trinket worth several carats—and she wasn’t talking veggies here.
Evelyn moved her legs, trying to get the circulation back to them, but the itch grew worse. What the hell had she allowed that freaky cat to do to her last night? She didn’t feel as though she’d had sex. Except for the itchy thighs, but they were unmated cat’s after all so maybe they traded some oral favors to take the edge off…yeah, that had to be it.
“Jefferson, if I’m ever crazy enough to let you between my legs again—make, damn, sure you’ve shaved.”
“Well ma’am, I’m not sure who this Jefferson guy is, but at the chance of being that up close and personal with your lovely legs I’d be sure to shave and moisturize.”
Not Jefferson. Evelyn threw open her eyes and realized three things at once. He really wasn’t Jefferson Elmore Huntsmore, this was not her bed and that she was falling; and falling; and falling!
In all of his twenty-six years of life, Riker could honestly say he’d never seen a naked woman fall from those heights and land on her feet the way this one just had—and she didn’t even appear to be hurt. But she had to be, right? Broken ankles? Destroyed knees? Ruined back? Something?
Instead of calling for emergency transport out of this part of Yosemite National Park, or offering her a hand, all he could do was stare. She was gorgeous. Thick brown hair, hazel but almost yellow eyes and curves just where he liked them had his mouth watering and made him wish he was Jefferson. And she was still standing after that amazing drop from the tree limb, way up there. His head bent back and look to the limb in question, then back to the beauty who’d come down from it, still processing the how of it, never mind the why…
“Hey listen, sorry about…” she started, waving her hands both to the tree and herself though explaining nothing.
“What are you, ma’am?”
“Shit,” she whispered, crossing her arms across her breasts and taking away at least half of his confusion. “Hello, Ranger, I’m screwed.”