Bonnie Vanak - Shielded By The Cowboy Seal

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?”