Shielded By The Cowboy Seal

“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 shimmying.

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 enlisted.

“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.

Well, it has been a few months since you had sex, his libido cheerfully reminded him.

Get used to celibacy. We have a job to do.

He stirred the pot of stew his mom had made, glancing out the window at the darkened skies. The snow was really coming down now, blowing in the fierce wind. He hoped Betsy was doing okay. Normally he’d spend the night with her in the barn, checking on her. Maybe once he got the beauty queen settled, he’d head there.

She sure was a beauty queen, too. Those big green eyes, perfect cheekbones and lush mouth made for kissing...

Hearing footsteps, Coop spooned out a generous portion of stew into a bowl and set it on the kitchen table upon a hand-sewn place mat, where a spoon rested. Meg entered the kitchen, the dog on her heels. She carried a can of dog food and a monogrammed dog dish and went to the can opener on the counter.

As the opener whirred and clicked, Sophie whined and pawed at Meg.

“Down, Sophie,” he said mildly.

The dog sat on her haunches, looked up at Coop and growled again. He shot the furball an amused look as he found a spoon for Meg to dish out the dog food.

“Well, hello to you as well. Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal your chow. Mom’s stew is much better. But if you’re staying here, you will learn manners.”

After setting the bowl of dog food on the floor, Meg slid into the seat with an appreciative sigh. “Thank you. This looks delicious.”

As he started out of the kitchen, she blinked. “Aren’t you eating? I hate to eat alone.”

Sighing, he fetched another bowl. Ever since his leave, he kept up with PT, but watched his calories, mindful of his weight. Two dinners tonight. But he’d work it off tomorrow.

He joined her at the table. “It’s not filet mignon, but it’ll fill you up on a cold night, Princess.”

She frowned. “You don’t like using my name? Why do you keep calling me ‘Princess’?”

Cooper blinked. “You look straight out of the pictures I’ve seen of beauty queens. And I give nicknames to everyone. I do on the teams and around here.”

“Oh? And what did they call you?”

He considered. “Usually Coop. Farm Boy, too, because I grew up on a farm. Sometimes Beast because I get real ornery when I get hungry.”

As they ate, she kept stealing glances at him, maybe wondering if he’d rocket off into a temper because of his beast rep. Knowing she had been abused, he hastened to add, “I may get mean, but that’s only around the guys. You’ll see.”

“I won’t be around here long enough to find out,” she told him. “This is temporary.”

“Doesn’t matter if it is, you’re going to need new clothing if all you packed are clothes fit for Palm Beach. Like those fancy boots you were wearing.” He shook his head. “Totally inappropriate for New England weather.”

“Those are my eight-hundred-dollar Jimmy Choos. They’re suede,” she shot back.

“Jimmy’s shoes? Who’s Jimmy?”

“Jimmy Choo,” she said very slowly, as if conversing with someone with the mental capacity of a three-year-old. “He’s a famous designer.”

He knew this, knew all about expensive shoes because an ex-girlfriend raved about them. “So you like wearing shoes with a guy’s name on them? Your Jimmy’s shoes aren’t fit for snow and slush and mud. They’re worth about ten dollars now at a yard sale.”

“What’s a yadh?”

“Yard.” He spoke slowly. “My accent is coming out. Happens when I get tired. Better get you to a store tomorrow to fetch you some real boots.”

“Real boots?” Meg frowned. “What do you wear around here?”

He stuck out his foot. “Tractor Supply. Steel toe.”

Meg stared, a look of incredulity on her pretty face. “You expect me to wear Tractor Supply? I expect you’ll next want me in Farmer John overalls and a chambray work shirt?”

More like out of them, wearing nothing but skin. He swallowed hard at the mental image. And a pair of red suede pumps with stiletto heels. Coop imagined her wearing those only for him with the crimson panties and bra. Hoo-yah.

He assumed his best poker face to hide his thoughts and adjusted his jeans.

“Jeans will do just fine. We don’t put our hired hands to work in fancy yoga pants. You’ll need something that will wash out real good after you muck out the stalls.” He cocked his head. “You did come here to work in the stables. That’s what Jarrett said.”

“I, er, no, I...”

Laughing, he waved a hand. “I’m teasing.”

“Thanks,” she said through gritted teeth. “Not. Lacey didn’t tell me you were such fine entertainment.”

He sat back, enjoying the glare. Made her eyes all sparkle like Fourth of July. “Got you to stop thinking about it.”

“Thinking about what?” Meg dug into her stew and ate a spoonful.

All seriousness now, he glanced down at her dog. “What you’re running from.”

She didn’t look at him. “I didn’t pack much. There was no time, and I couldn’t risk my ex-husband seeing my warm clothing gone. He’d guess that I fled north.”

Wise move. “I’d have done the same. Tomorrow we’ll go into town, get you dressed for this weather.”

A faint pink flushed her cheeks. “I’ll be okay with what I have. I can’t afford to pay for it right now...”

Knowing how that admission must have dented her pride, he softened his voice. “No worries. Part of SOS’s services. Jarrett will foot the bill.”

The dog gulped down her food and finished, then sat by Meg’s side, growling at him. Cooper pointed his soup spoon at Sophie.

“Hey, watch it, mutt, or you won’t get dessert.”

Meg’s mouth curled into the first real smile he’d seen from her. She was so pretty, her mouth all rosebud red, her cheeks flushed.

“Sophie is not a mutt. She is a purebred shih tzu.”

“A shih-what?”

“Shih tzu.”

“Sounds like something I suffered downrange in Iraq that the medic had to treat with antibiotics,” he muttered.

Coop stared in frank bewilderment at the growling mop of fur. Any temporary bond created when he’d rescued the dog had been broken, as evidenced by the bared fangs.

“Sure has a sharp set of teeth for such a little thing.”

Guilt flashed across Meg’s face. “She’s very protective and loyal. Unfortunately, she hates men.”

“Selective,” he murmured. “Or did she learn from her owner?”

Her big green eyes narrowed in apparent anger. “She learned it from my ex-husband, who tried to starve her to make her mean.”

Coop looked at the dog. “You had it rough, huh? Guess I can’t blame you for biting me if you thought I was a threat to your mom here.”

Meg blinked. “Most people think I’m exaggerating about my ex. He’s very well respected in the community. He’s on the board of several charities and he’s known for his contributions to society.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not a jerk. What people show in public can be very different from their private lives.”

“You believe me?”

She sounded incredulous, as if she’d stated her ex was a little green alien instead of a bastard. Cooper carefully set down his spoon. “I believe the dog. Dogs, like horses, learn to be mean when they’re treated badly. It’s self-defense.”

Judging from the bruises Meg sported and the suspicious looks she cast him, the princess had been treated the same.

“Let me try something.” He picked up a piece of meat from his stew and held it out to Sophie. “Look, Sophie. Good stuff.”

More growling. Cooper avoided looking straight at the dog. Looking head-on at the canine would indicate aggression. “It’s okay. Come on.”

Sophie trotted forward, snatched the meat from his outstretched fingers and pranced backward, as if afraid he’d suddenly hit her.

Cooper leaned back, well away from the dog as she ate the meat.

“Good girl,” he crooned.

Sophie sat back and licked her nose.

“Lacey told me you’re good with dogs. You’re a Navy SEAL and Jarrett was your leader. Did you work much with dogs when you were deployed?”

Grief pinched him as he thought of Max. He stiffened. “I’d rather not talk about me. Let’s get you and the furball settled for the night.”

It took a few minutes for the tour. Meg gripped the dog as he showed them the master bedroom upstairs and the bathroom with the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. The guest room where she’d sleep was downstairs next to another bathroom. He stood in the living room, wondering if she’d noticed how worn the plaid sofa was, with bits of fabric fraying at the armrest, or how the chair by the fireplace sagged a little too much.

Beneath the northern window overlooking the barn was a small table and two chairs. Brie had found the set at an antiques fair in Maine. He remembered that day so clearly it hurt. He’d taken her for an outing before one of his deployments, and they’d eaten hot dogs at a stand. It was a crisp, cool May day with pink and purple pansies and petunias starting to bloom, and she’d seen that little table with a long scratch down the middle and declared it needed a little TLC and would fit perfectly beneath the window.

He’d sanded, buffed and stained it, and she’d hugged him so tight he could barely breathe.

Soon after, she announced she was going to work in the inner city where she could do more good in protecting women and children. He’d tried to talk her out of it, but Brie was stubborn. So he’d purchased a new bulletproof vest his brother Derek said was the best. Combat Gear Inc.’s vests were lighter and more flexible, allowing Brie to get out of a tight space quicker.

He knew all about getting out of tight spaces.

She’d thanked him over and over when she’d tried on the vest, marveling at how thin and sturdy it seemed. He’d hung up the phone that day, relieved his little sister would be safe.

That body armor had proven faulty when Brie was killed. If he ever found M. E. Franklin, the man whose name was on the corporate documents... His jaw tightened as Coop shook the cobweb of memories from his mind. Had to focus on the present, and Meg, who kept staring at him as if he were an ogre.

“You look really angry,” she whispered.

“Sorry. Just woolgathering. This place used to be my sister’s.”

“Does she mind if I stay here a few days? I don’t plan on being here long.”

Meg wasn’t going to settle here for a while. She probably saw how shabby everything was and figured this wasn’t the Hilton. He wouldn’t force it. “She’s dead,” he muttered.

Ignoring her apology, he focused on building a fire. As the flames caught and flickered, he thought of how homey and cozy the cottage was. Brie had teased him about how he should use it for a tryst with a sexy brunette.

Funny how the princess fit the description. Her body, yeah, just his type, but not the personality. He preferred country girls who loved riding horses, didn’t mind baling hay and enjoyed dancing at the local honky-tonk.

Not wealthy women who carried dogs in designer purses.

After piling wood into the fireplace and igniting it, he dusted off his hands. “There’s plenty of food in the pantry. Thermostat’s on the wall behind the sofa if you get cold. Power may go out in this storm, but the heater is gas so you’ll be set. I’ll leave candles and a flashlight on the hall table.”

Meg sat on the sofa, eyes huge and round as she clutched her dog. “You’re leaving us alone here?”

Damn if she didn’t look lost and forlorn, like a stray puppy. He stood and cleared his throat. “I have to spend the night with Betsy.”

Her expression fell. “I understand. I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you to stay here with us.”

Cooper grinned. “Betsy’s not my girlfriend. She’s a horse with colic.”

Meg’s eyes widened, and then a lovely smile graced her full lips. She gave a little laugh. “Oh! I thought...”

Admiring the pink flush on her china-doll cheeks, he pointed to the window. “I was going to spend the night in the barn, checking up on her. But I’ll come back here later, make sure you’re okay.”