Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL

by Bonnie Vanak

  Kissing her forehead, he came to a decision. “You okay for a while?”

  Meg nodded and climbed off his lap. She resumed her seat and began to sip the now-lukewarm hot chocolate. Coop checked the exterior security camera on the app on his cell phone. Kimball’s black rental car still hadn’t returned.

  Restless, he paced the kitchen and punched in a number on his cell.

  A sleepy male voice answered, the Southern accent more pronounced than usual. “This had better be important, Coop.”

  “Nomad,” he said, using the other man’s SEAL nickname. “You still in Saratoga or did you fly south yet for the winter?”

  A wide yawn, and then, “Nope. Moved to Connecticut. Got a job in maintenance on a horse farm. Lots of nice scenery.”

  Scenery to former Chief Petty Officer Nick Anderson meant two-legged scenery in silk hose.

  “Need your help.”

  A rustle of bedcovers and a young female voice saying, “What’s wrong, Nick?”

  “Go back to sleep.” Then to Coop, “What and when?”

  Sharp, alert, his former swim buddy was now fully awake. “ASAP here, at the inn. I need eyes on my mom and Aimee. I’ve got a guy here who could be a murder suspect.”

  He glanced at Meg, who paled.

  “I’ll be there by nine a.m. Drive straight through. Need anything else?”

  Appreciative of his friend’s aid, Coop locked gazes with Meg. “We’ll talk when you get here. Oh, and Nomad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take the gun. Leave the cannoli.”

  A rough laugh and a lowered voice. “Yeah, but she’s sooo sweet.”

  “Too much sugar is bad for you,” he deadpanned as Nick laughed again.

  He thumbed off the phone and joined her at the table and took her hand. “Nick’s my former swim buddy from the teams. We went through BUD/S together. He left the Navy a year ago, and we’re tight. Good people.”

  “Why is he coming here?”

  “I need backup, someone to guard my mom and Aimee and watch Kimball. Don’t want him to get spooked and leave.” Coop stroked a thumb over her hand. “I believe he had something to do with your grandmother’s death, and Randall Jacobs.”

  He didn’t want to leave her alone, but now that Kimball was a suspect, it was time to take another look at the plaster cast he’d made of those size 14 shoes. Coop set down his phone. “Give me your burner phone.”

  When she handed it over, he pocketed it. “Take my cell. Go to our private parlor and lock the door behind you. Keep scanning the outside security camera. Soon as Kimball pulls into the driveway, text me. Do not look out the window, just check the camera feed. Got it?”

  She nodded. “Where are you going?”

  “Gotta check something out.”

  After dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he slipped out the kitchen door. Cold air sliced into him, but he was too focused to notice the chill.

  In a few minutes, he returned with the plaster cast. Kimball’s car was still missing.

  He snagged the housekeeper’s keys off a peg in the kitchen and headed to the upstairs guest rooms. Inside Kimball’s room, Cooper found only one 35 mm camera and no other photography equipment. Interesting. Most photographers carried plenty of lenses and other cameras.

  He found a pair of polished black leather loafers and fit the right one into the plaster cast.

  Gotcha. Perfect match.

  Worry and anger twisted inside him. This bastard had been the one outside the cottage, spying on Meg. When Fiona had asked Kimball about getting to the inn, Kimball failed to mention a little stop at the cottage.

  Coop left the room, making sure to leave no trace. He went to the family’s living room and let himself in with his key.

  Meg sat on the sofa, clutching his cell phone like a life raft. “I’ve been watching and he’s not back yet.”

  Eyelids closing, she looked exhausted. He didn’t want her here where Kimball could see her. But he was loath to leave his mother and sister alone.

  Coop tugged her hand. “Upstairs. My room.”

  He led her to the private family wing of the farmhouse. The door to the hallway was locked as usual. He opened it with the housekeeper’s keys, making sure to lock it behind him.

  At the last room on the left, he ushered Meg inside and flipped on the light. The room faced east, and one window offered a glimpse of the parking lot below.

  She looked around at his worn poster of the Foo Fighters and all his sports heroes, and then at the dresser holding a few trophies. Meg walked over to the dresser.

  Despite the shadows in her eyes, her mouth quirked upward. “You were a rodeo cowboy? A cowboy in New Hampshire?”

  Coop shrugged. “I lived with relatives in Texas for a year after my dad died, and entered a few competitions in my crazed youthful days.”

  She touched the gold trophy. “And did well.”

  The thrill had released the pent-up anger and grief. By the time he transferred to school back in his hometown, Coop knew he had to get his head on straight. Soon after graduation, he enlisted in the Navy and set to his goal of becoming a SEAL.

  He hunted through the dresser, found a pair of red flannel pajamas and gave them to her. “Afraid this is all I can offer you to sleep in.”

  Another tentative smile. “Thanks.”

  He jerked a thumb toward the hall. “Bathroom’s two doors down on the left. There’s a spare toothbrush in the top drawer of the vanity.”

  He’d undressed and tugged on a pair of gray sweats and a Navy T-shirt by the time Meg returned. She’d rolled up the sleeves on his PJ shirt and held the bottoms in her hand.

  “They’re a little big.” Her cheeks pinkened.

  So big his pajama top covered her like a short dress. He liked his clothing on her, liked the idea of his pajamas covering her. Coop eyed the bed with regret.

  “You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  Only honorable thing to do, and she looked ready to drop.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said softly, sitting on the mattress. “There’s room enough for both of us, and you’re just as tired as me.”

  Right. As if it wasn’t tempting enough, having her here in his room. “Be right back.”

  When he returned from the bathroom, Meg was lying in bed, curled up against the wall. Coop stood in the doorway a moment, a tangle of emotions knotting his gut. So pretty and fragile, yet she was no pushover. Seeing her fall to pieces tonight had shattered him.

  It was a delicate situation. They needed to inform the police, but the moment they did, he’d have to admit he broke into the house. Worse, the police would question Meg and perhaps even turn her over to the FBI now that an official investigation had opened into Brie’s death.

  And that louse of her ex would still wander free.

  Coop trusted the local sheriff, but he didn’t want him involved. Most of all, he was highly suspicious that the so-called evidence was proof Randall Jacobs killed Meg’s grandmother.

  Meg’s ex had the most to gain from murdering her grandmother. All the family assets and money went to him, and he’d stopped the company from going public. And judging from the price on Jacobs’s summer home, Randall hadn’t been in a hurry to sell for quick cash. Karen, the real estate agent, told him the property had been on the market for four months. Randall refused to lower the price.

  After retrieving his cell phone, he stepped out of the room, partly closing the door. Coop made another call, this time to his older brother Derek, the police detective.

  When he hung up, satisfied that he had the backup he needed, he went back into his bedroom. Meg still slept, one hand tucked beneath her chin, her long hair spread over the pillows. Desire shot through him. Yeah, they had an intense sexual chemistry, and
it was going to be a long, hard night. He gave a rueful glance downward. Very hard.

  Coop turned off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed, sliding far away from Meg. Best to avoid temptation. He longed to pull her into his arms, cover her face with kisses.

  Helluva way to sleep, with an erection and his mind restless. Using his SEAL training, he forced himself to fall into a deep sleep.

  What seemed like a moment later, he heard a woman’s shrill cry.

  Eyelids popping open, he snapped on the light.

  Beside him, Meg tossed and turned, moaning. Reaching over, he gently jostled her. “Princess, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

  But she kept crying out. Coop slid over, gathered her into his arms. “Meg, it’s okay,” he soothed.

  She finally stopped moaning and opened her eyes. Two wet emeralds regarded him, the nightmare still shadowing them. “I dreamed of Gran drinking that poison,” she whispered. “I tried to warn her, to grab it, but then Prescott dragged me off. She trusted me all those months she was sick. She relied on me to take her to the doctor, to care for her. And I let her down.”

  A hollowness compressed his chest. Cooper rested his chin atop her head. “You can’t be everything to everyone, Meg. The hospital staff, the doctors, couldn’t see she was poisoned, so don’t blame yourself.”

  “I knew her better,” she whispered. “She was my only family. And knowing that Randall poisoned her...”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Cooper stepped back, and wiped away a single tear with the edge of one thumb. She was so tiny and fragile, the delicate exterior camouflaging a tough steel core. The heart of a true warrior beat inside Meg, someone dragged to hell by another man’s fists.

  Any person who tried hurting her again, he’d strip the skin from their bones. This time, he wanted her to know a man’s touch could fill her with pleasure, not pain.

  With extreme care, he kissed away her tears, kissed the corner of her mouth.

  * * *

  This was all wrong, and yet so very right.

  Meg’s heart galloped still from the wisps of the fleeting nightmare. It raced once more as Cooper leaned close, gazing into her eyes. Filled with concern, his expression was far different from anything she’d ever seen from a lover.

  Pure desire, mixed with tenderness.

  His mouth dipped closer to hers, his breath a warm puff of air in the coolness of the room. Cooper brushed his mouth against hers, his movements light and subtle. When she parted her lips, his tongue slipped inside her mouth.

  Slow, tantalizing, the kiss was seductive. Heady. Heat built as their mouths moved together, tongues mating and breaths mingling.

  Then he leaned back and touched her cheek. Wordlessly, she stared up at him.

  Cooper was all she’d dreamed of in a lover—strong, fiercely loyal, courageous and tender. He would not knock her unconscious on a cold tile floor. Instead, he’d pull out his own teeth before hurting her.

  The man was dangerous. Oh, not because he was a trained warrior who could snap a man’s neck like a brittle twig. He scared her because he was a good man, and she feared falling for him, trusting him and then having him break her heart.

  That fragile organ had already been broken once by Prescott. She’d barely begun to repair it. It hurt to know her ex was a bastard, but she sensed it would hurt more to face heartache from Cooper. Because he was honorable and good, and her ideal.

  Much easier to put him at a distance, pretend there was nothing between them. Not this sizzling chemistry, this combustive sexual need arcing between them, hot and demanding.

  As soon as she found the missing documents and microchip, she’d be gone. No bond, no regrets, as if she’d run away from the one person who could reach past her constant loneliness and pull her free.

  But it felt so good to be in his arms. Meg felt his body’s wiry, tensile strength. She’d had so little of love in her life. Wasn’t it about time she rewarded herself with one night of passion and pleasure?

  He bent his head close to her ear, his hot breath a whisper against her skin.

  “You okay?”

  Meg nodded. “You told me I would know when the time is right.” She slid her hand down his chest, feeling his heart beat. “No more doubts.”

  As she reached up to kiss him, his mouth descended upon hers. Teasing, light kisses once more. He flicked his tongue lightly over her bottom lip.

  Meg pulled back, trembling, hot. Needing him.

  Satisfaction gleamed in his gaze. Cooper’s long, strong fingers curled possessively about hers. An air of natural authority clung to him, and overwhelming power. Yet his grip on her was so gentle.

  Tender.

  The more she knew him, the more exposed she felt, and the more dangerously she teetered toward something more lasting and permanent. Like that four-letter word she’d lost hope of ever experiencing.

  Love.

  Love was scary. All she’d ever wanted was a family who accepted and loved her for herself, but they all tried shaping her into their image of the perfect Meg. Her parents molding her into a good daughter. Her husband beating her into a meek wife. Letticia making her into an approval-seeking granddaughter.

  Tired of being strong, she leaned against him. For once, she just wanted someone else to protect her from all the fears screaming inside.

  He slid a palm around the back of her neck. Instead of soothing, it stirred all her senses. Her nerves screamed to life. He leaned close enough for her to count hairs in the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. She felt open, wet and aching. His touch lingered over her neck, featherlight, erotic as he stroked her skin.

  Making love with him forged a physical link between them. But she deserved passion.

  Deserved love as well, though Cooper did not love her. For tonight, passion would suffice.

  She silently unbuttoned the shirt, watching his eyes darken. Cooper kissed her again and then slid down her body, dropping tiny, melting kisses across her skin. Tremendous heat suffused her. She felt as if her body were on fire and would never be cold again.

  Meg watched as he tugged off his own shirt, displaying a muscled chest dark with hair. After he was fully nude, Cooper reached into the nightstand and withdrew a condom, and sheathed himself. As she lay back, he began to stroke her body. Cooper’s hands were warm, calloused and gentle. The earlier chill wrought by the terrible dream began to fade beneath his heated caresses. She found herself drifting into a sensual haze, pleasure replacing painful memories.

  Cooper kissed the side of her jaw, her neck, blowing little hot breaths on her skin as he stroked her skin. One hand closed over her right breast. He gently squeezed and kneaded, creating an aching throb between her legs. She wanted to shut her eyes, float away on the sensual haze, but Meg kept her eyes open.

  Experience in bed taught her to never close her eyes, because she had to anticipate the next move. Had to make certain to satisfy her lover.

  Yet he made no sudden moves or sounds of displeasure. Leisurely he kissed his way down her body, his hand still cupping and kneading her breast. Then he crawled down her body and parted her thighs.

  Cooper lowered his head and put his mouth between her legs.

  He licked and kissed her center in long, expert strokes. Cooper’s tongue on the aching flesh made her moan and writhe, the pleasure so strong she couldn’t lie still. Every stroke and whorl drew air from her body until she felt herself strained with the need to breathe, to burst out of her skin. He licked, swallowed, the rough bristle from his night beard abrading her thighs. Tension heightened, spiraling her upward and upward until she stiffened and gave a keening wail, her body thrashing as she climaxed. The orgasm exploded out of her so fiercely, she almost blacked out.

  When she lifted her head, the hint of untamed lust lurked deep in the depths
of his eyes. In silent surrender, Meg lay back, holding out her arms to him. Her body tingled with arousal, hungering for the contact between them.

  Cooper leaned back on his haunches, aching with the need to penetrate. Mounting her, he felt the enormous strain of his muscles tensing as he tried to keep himself in check. He kissed her again, his mouth drifting down to nip at her throat. Her breasts were like apples, perfectly shaped with rosy, taut nipples.

  He kissed one very gently, then ran his tongue around it. She whimpered, her hips rising and falling off the mattress, driven by instincts of her own.

  “Soon,” he soothed her. Cooper took her nipple in his mouth and gently sucked. She clutched his shoulders, her body twisting.

  He released her nipple with a small popping sound.

  “I would never hurt you, Princess. I only want to give you pleasure.”

  He kissed her, rolled atop her and reached down between them to guide his rigid shaft inside her. He was much larger than Prescott and she winced as he slid into her. Bracing himself on his elbows, Cooper stopped and looked down at her.

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  Meg’s breath hitched at the wealth of concern and tenderness in his voice. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, then opened her legs wider in silent acceptance.

  Cooper took her mouth in a deep kiss and laced his fingers through hers, pinning them to the bed, and began to move.

  Meg sucked in a breath and relaxed, opening to him, feeling blunt pressure filling her. Making them one. He pulled back and began to stroke inside her, his shaft rubbing against her sensitive tissues, the friction creating a delicious heat that began from her center. His muscles contracted as he thrust, powerful shoulders flexing and back arching.

  Cooper consumed her, chased away the bad memories with pure erotic sensation. Silky chest hair rubbed against her aching breasts, his hard six-pack sliding against her soft abdomen. She arched to meet his rhythm.

  Wonder came over her face as she watched him. His mouth parted on a gasp, lips trembling. The bed beneath her soft as down, the male pressing her backward onto it solid muscle. It felt as if he locked her spirit in his, a closeness she’d never experienced.