Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL Page 2

  And most locals were smart enough to be snug at home, curled up by the fire with mugs of hot chocolate, not riding around in a late-autumn blizzard.

  He drove for two miles and was nearly ready to give up when he spotted an older model white sedan parked by the roadside. It looked deserted, but the tingle down his spine intensified.

  Cooper parked behind the car and got out. A blast of icy wind slammed into him, slicing his cheeks like tiny darting needles. Damn, that was cold! The snow had stopped and turned to freezing rain. Driving on these roads was gonna be hell, but the truck was steady and he knew this turf.

  His sole concern focused now on the occupant of the car. Using his Maglite flashlight he always carried in the truck, he shone light into the car.

  A slender woman and a dog lay on the backseat curled up beneath a quilt. Neither responded as he opened the door. The dome light overhead didn’t even turn on.

  Damn it! Cooper was glad she’d had the sense not to lock the car doors. He checked her vitals. Alive, but groggy, suffering from the early stages of hypothermia. He gathered her into his arms. His heart raced. She was so tiny and fragile. Storms blew in fast in this region, and what started out as a sunny day could quickly turn into bone-chilling temperatures.

  He surveyed the fashionable, ankle-length black suede boots, thin trousers and light sweater. Dressed for a cocktail party, not the northern climate.

  The woman, barely conscious, moaned as he picked her up and placed her into the back cab of his truck. Coop covered her with the thick wool blankets, slammed the door shut with the heater running, and returned to the sedan.

  A small brown-and-white dog lay on the seat, looking half dead. Its fur was clipped short in a puppy cut and its eyes were closed.

  A sparkling rhinestone collar with a heart pendant ringed its fat little neck. Next to it was a fancy-looking dog purse with a gold monogram that looked expensive enough to feed his horses for the next three months.

  Despite the freezing rain dripping down his neck, Coop stopped and stared. “This is the vicious killer? I had stuffed animals more ferocious.”

  Sheesh.

  He gathered the dog into his arms and raced to the truck, placing the dog gently on the seat next to Meg. Then he made a quick call to Fiona, assuring his mother he’d found Meg and would return home shortly.

  Coop cranked up the heat to full blast, then climbed into the backseat. He removed his jacket and wrapped the dog in it until it resembled a furry burrito.

  Had to get this wet clothing off Meg. With a murmured apology, he removed her damp sweater, trying to avoid looking at her breasts, but it was tough. She had lovely breasts, full and generous, and a lacy red bra that was mouthwatering.

  Focus.

  As he went to drape her in a blanket, he saw enormous yellow and blue bruises on her arm.

  Cooper went still. Rage boiled inside him. He gently touched one and heard her moan. Cooper pulled her upper body into his lap and tucked her hands between his thighs, knowing that area held the most warmth.

  Yeah, it was doing wonders for his groin, but he’d survive.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Green as the Caribbean he loved for scuba diving. Confusion flickered in her irises, then she blinked and panic set in. She tried to pull her hands from between his thighs.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, please don’t make me do that. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

  Jaw tightening, he forced her hands to remain between his legs. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now, but you’re in danger of getting hypothermia.”

  Had to get her back to the cottage, get her warm before the storm got worse. Cooper gently disentangled himself from Meg. The little dog looked up, whined. She’d feel safer with the dog in her arms. As Cooper reached out for the dog, the animal growled.

  And promptly bit his hand.

  Chapter 2

  Such delicious warmth.

  Meg slowly opened her eyes. She’d been back at the car, Sophie curled beside her, wondering how they would survive the storm and not freeze to death. The cold had pierced her bones like icy knives.

  And then she’d closed her eyes, trying to keep her dog warm by holding Sophie tight. The nightmare had been too real. Sophie, kicked out of the house by her husband, wandering the streets during a south Florida cold snap. Curling up in a doorway to stay warm, whimpering and afraid, confused as to why her owners had abandoned her...

  She drove, as she had in the past when it really happened, searching the streets for her beloved dog. But this time during the nightmare, a handsome stranger picked Sophie into his arms and scowled at Meg, as if blaming her for Sophie’s condition.

  Now as she stirred, she became aware of lying in a warm bed, blankets piled atop her. A lamp glowed softly on a nightstand.

  Meg realized she wore only panties and a bra.

  And in addition to being half-naked, there was a hard male body next to her, also half-naked. Panic swept through her. She startled and moved away, but a strong, muscled arm hooked around her waist.

  “Relax,” a deep male voice said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  The voice was strange, tinged with amusement and a New England accent. The body belonging to that accent was hardened with thick muscle, not soft with fat like Prescott’s. She became aware of the scent of him, all cedar and spicy aftershave, a pleasing masculine smell, not the fancy and expensive cologne disguising the vodka Prescott had consumed far too much lately.

  “Get away from me,” she mumbled. “Why are you doing this?

  “No one dies on my watch, Princess, and you were entering hypothermia. Body heat is the best way of keeping warm. I daresay your little dog knows this, otherwise she’d be nipping at my toes instead of snuggled beneath them.”

  He added, with a wry sound, “And if you got frostbite, the local doc would have to amputate those pretty pink toes of yours.”

  She had to get out of here, but oh, the warmth beneath the blankets and the firm, muscled body beside her gave off heat like a blast furnace.

  Meg blinked hard, trying to summon precious energy. “Her name is Sophie.”

  “Should have called her Ouchie.”

  Meg’s mushy brain couldn’t register the joke, until she lifted her head and saw her rescuer hold up his hand where a half moon marked the skin. “Bit clean through my glove.”

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry.” Mortified, she struggled to sit up, more concerned about her dog biting a total stranger who had saved them from death than her lack of clothing.

  He pushed her down. “Easy now. You need to stay under these covers a while longer.”

  “My dog...”

  “No worries,” he said easily. “I trust she’s had her shots, and I’ve had mine, so you needn’t worry about your furball getting a disease.”

  Meg realized he was joking. The tension gripping her sore, tight muscles eased a little. She peered upward to get a closer look at him. A thick shock of wavy dark brown hair was cropped short. He had an intense gaze, thin cheekbones and a wide mouth. Handsome, with a hint of Irish blood in those ice-blue eyes.

  A dusting of black hair covered his muscled chest. Washboard abs rippled beneath smooth, tanned skin. He was mouthwatering, a prime example of masculinity. Meg stared, still struggling with the unreality that this man had rescued her from the cold and warmed her with his body.

  “You’re Cooper Johnson?”

  “The one and only,” he drawled. “Your host over the next several days.”

  She pulled the blankets up to cover her breasts, well aware her lacy red bra provided thin covering in the chill, and her nipples had turned rigid.

  From the cold. Not the pull of attraction toward this handsome stranger. It didn’t matter if her libido sat up and started sh
immying.

  All she had to do was think of what Prescott would do if he found her, and her heated blood turned to ice.

  “Where’s Sophie?”

  Cooper lifted the bottom of the blankets. Snuggled at his feet, wedged partly beneath the covers, her dog snoozed. Relief filled Meg. She tossed back the covers, climbed down the length of the bed and gathered her dog into her arms, checking her over anxiously.

  “She seems okay.” Meg drew in a deep breath as the awakening Sophie licked her face.

  Sheer male interest flared on Cooper’s face. He rearranged the blankets around his waist. Realizing he must have had a bull’s-eye glimpse of her rear end, Meg flushed. She clutched the dog just a little too tightly, and Sophie squirmed.

  The interest faded as his expression shuttered. He scratched the bristles on his hard jaw. “You feeling okay now, Princess?”

  At her nod, he flung back the blankets, displaying a pair of long, muscled legs. A dusting of hair didn’t hide a wicked-looking scar on his left thigh. Her fascinated gaze traveled upward to the black Jockeys he wore...

  And the very large bulge beneath them showing a blatant male reaction.

  Seems as if Cooper Johnson was equally attracted to her.

  Not that she’d do anything about it. Not in her lifetime.

  His mouth curved into a knowing smile as he reached down to the floor, retrieved a pair of jeans. Cooper slid into them and stood, buckling the belt.

  “Had to get you warm. Can’t help the consequences. I’m a guy, and you’re a very attractive woman.”

  He shoved a hand through his thick hair and the move flexed the biceps of his right arm. A tattoo of a snake writhed with the motion as well. Sailors got inked, from what she knew. And he was a Navy SEAL.

  Not regular Army, like her brother had been.

  SEALs were tough, Lacey had told her, but their missions and lives were shrouded in secrecy. She wondered what happened to him that he was here now with her.

  It wasn’t her business. She released Sophie and held out her hand. “Thank you for rescuing us, Mr. Johnson. And my name is Meg.”

  Surprise flickered across his face as he sat on the bed. “Cooper.”

  His grip was firm, but not crushing, and he quickly released her hand. Then as he started to reach for her, Sophie growled.

  Meg gripped her dog. As his gaze landed on her bruised arm, she flinched.

  Cooper’s gaze narrowed as he muttered a low oath. “Is that what your husband did to you? Jarrett said you were in trouble, but he didn’t give details.”

  “Ex-husband. Soon, anyway. I keep calling him my ex because I’ve x-ed him out of my life.” Meg felt her flush deepen, this time from shame. “It wasn’t that bad, this time.”

  “This time is the last time,” he said in a low, deep voice that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

  His expression turned intent. Totally concentrated and fierce, as if someone had flipped a switch inside him. She shivered. One would not want to cross him.

  “I’m sure you have a story to tell me. Like why you’re driving. Why didn’t you take Jarrett’s offer of a bus ticket here?”

  Keen, assessing. Little would escape this man.

  “Too slow. I needed my own wheels. And I knew my ex would be able to trace my car, so I bought an older model for cash for the drive here from Palm Beach.”

  Two nights in cheap motels, trying to sleep, fearing to shut her eyes in case Prescott had sent someone after her...

  “Why did you buy such a lemon?”

  Meg struggled with her pride. How ironic that she was once the heiress of Taylor Sporting Goods, one of the country’s largest producers of sports equipment, and she didn’t have a penny.

  “I know it sounds implausible, but it’s all I could afford. My ex controlled all the money in our household, and all my accounts.”

  She’d managed to save a little money and hide it. And she didn’t dare use her easily traceable credit cards.

  Silence fell between them as he gave a pointed look to the diamond encased in an old-fashioned gold setting hanging from her neck. Meg fingered the necklace. “This was my grandmother’s. I suppose you deserve an explanation, since you’re kind enough to give me a place to stay.”

  He rubbed the sexy dusting of dark bristles on his chin. “Let’s wait until you’re ready. Know this, Meg. We’ve had dogs on the farm before and mostly they stay outside. Your dog...”

  At this pause, she tensed, ready for him to tell her he didn’t tolerate dogs who bit and he was going to toss Sophie outside, no matter that it was freezing. Prescott surely would have.

  “She’s safe here, just as you are. I don’t tolerate abuse. Anyone who hits women, children or animals—” his hard blue gaze flickered to Sophie “—even animals who growl at them, will be strictly dealt with. You can relax. No one will get you here.”

  Relief swept through her. “You’re not going to make Sophie stay outside?”

  He lifted a dark brow. “In this storm? Relax, she’ll stay here with you. I only want one question answered.”

  She tensed.

  “Your last name. Need to know that in case anyone comes asking.”

  His words sent a shiver of fear sliding through her again. Prescott knew people. Lots of people across the country. “Meg... Caldwell,” she said, giving her brother’s first name.

  Cooper nodded. “Good. I’ll let my mom know. She runs the bed and breakfast at our farmhouse.”

  Doubt filled her. “Is it really safe here? My ex has a lot of money and influence.”

  “And I have a nine-millimeter and plenty of ammo.”

  His reassurances should have made her feel safe, but they only made her aware of what kind of danger she placed this man and his family in. She couldn’t stay long. Just long enough to recover, figure out a plan and then move on.

  Then Meg remembered her suitcase and all her most precious belongings were in the car. She had to retrieve them, snowstorm or no snowstorm. Anyone could find her things and know who they belonged to. One call to Prescott and he’d be here in the corporate jet. Her chest hurt and her heart constricted painfully and she found it hard to breathe.

  “My things... I have to get my luggage. The quilt in the car, it’s an heirloom.”

  As her voice rose, he remained calm. Steady. Not ruffled one bit at the hysteria in her voice. “Easy, Princess.” He pointed to the closet. “Everything from the car is in there. This is your room for the night. I put your cell in the kitchen on a charger. Your car is dead. I’ll have Mike, the local tow truck driver, haul it to his shop and fix it.”

  “Thank you.” She released a deep breath. “If I had someplace else to go, I would have. I don’t plan to stay.”

  That deep blue gaze burned into her. “What about your family?”

  Familiar hurt squeezed a tight knot in her chest. “I don’t have any. My father died in a car crash shortly after my parents’ divorce.”

  “And your mother?”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “She went to Europe to be with her lover after Dad’s funeral. I haven’t seen her since.”

  “No brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles?” Cooper gave her a disbelieving look.

  “One brother. He was killed in Iraq shortly after he enlisted in the Army.”

  “I’m sorry.” His tone softened. “What unit?”

  “Does it matter? He’s dead.” Meg’s chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Caldwell’s reckless disregard for safety while in combat was the reason she wanted to manufacture body armor for soldiers. She thought of her older brother’s bright, cheerful grin and how he’d always let her tag along, always promised to be there to keep her safe and happy because their parents didn’t care about them...

  Caldwell broke that promise the day he e
nlisted.

  “No aunts or uncles?”

  “No. I was raised by my grandmother, and her funeral was a week ago.” She lifted her chin and gave him the impervious stare used when it was necessary to keep others at bay. “Are you finished with the interrogation yet?”

  He gazed around the bedroom. “You and my sister are about the same size. I got you clean, warm clothing from the upstairs guest room in case you didn’t pack any winter clothing in your suitcase. You might want to consider wearing it. It’ll keep you warm more than those trousers. Feel free to borrow anything else of hers while you are here. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. Mom made a pot of stew. It’s on the stove.”

  Her mouth watered at the mention of hot food. The ice inside her melted a little. “It sounds delicious. Thank you. And please, thank your sister for me as well, for lending me her clothing.”

  Cooper tensed as if someone had shoved a rod down his back. With a nod, he left the room, making her wonder what she had said that made him shut down like that.

  What Cooper Johnson felt was none of her concern. And Meg knew she didn’t dare tell him or his family the full truth. Guilt pinched her. He was better off not knowing he’d given shelter to a possible killer.

  She needed to regroup and plan and get out of here.

  Before Prescott found her, and she endangered anyone else.

  Chapter 3

  The princess, no, her name was Meg, was certainly pretty. With those big eyes, the tumbling curls spilling down her curvy backside, generous breasts and wide hips, she was stunning. Coop had always preferred curvy women, and Meg fit the bill.

  But she was an assignment for Project SOS, not a potential date. At least she’d had the courtesy to thank him for pulling her rear end out of trouble.

  And it was a very nice rear end. He’d gotten a sample as she’d crawled down the bed to get her dog. A thin triangle of red silk stretched across her pretty bottom, the kind of bottom a man could cup and squeeze as he drove deep inside her in the dark of night.

  Forget it. She was clearly traumatized and the last thing Meg needed was him panting all over her as if she were steak and he hadn’t eaten in a month.