A SEAL in Wolf’s Clothing (28 page)

“Hmm, you’re supposed to help market the resort, too,” Meara said, as Finn slid his hands around her breasts and began to massage them, his face nuzzling her neck. “And sending away our guests without accommodating them further probably won’t give us four-star rating.”

“I’ll make it up to him tomorrow,” Finn said, seductively licking her ear.

She groaned and whispered, “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too.”

She headed for the back door to check out the package, but when she opened the door, she frowned at the tall box. And then as she read the label, she shook her head. Turning, she saw Finn smiling broadly at her.

“Well? You told me you needed a new vacuum,” he said smugly.

“A
vacuumer
. As in someone who vacuums. Hmm, I guess I did say that I needed a new vacuum also. And you know what? I know just who to teach how to use it.”

He stalked forward to carry the box inside, then locked the door, and pulled her into his arms. “So, what do you think of the wedding present?”

“Oh, Finn, I think it’s a great wedding present for you,” she said, sliding her hands across his nipples in a provocative way.

His hands went to her breasts again, and he was about to kiss her when his phone rang in her pocket.

Uh-oh.

He slipped his hand into Meara’s front right pocket. “Got my phone again?”

“Yeah, just in case you get any unwanted calls.”

He snorted. “Like from old flames or anyone contacting me about any
dangerous
missions
?”

He glanced at the caller ID, and she waited, barely breathing. He took a deep breath and patted her on the rump. “Fix dinner. I’ll make a salad.”

“Salad?” She couldn’t believe he’d eat a salad, considering all the times when she’d had to force Hunter to.

Finn shrugged. “My mother taught me to eat my greens. It just became a habit.”

“That’s good, Finn.” She frowned at the ringing phone in his hand. “Aren’t you going to answer the call?”

He slipped his hand around hers and hauled her to the kitchen. “What for? It’s probably another of those damned dangerous missions Paul wants me to go on now that Hunter won’t leave Tessa alone. I’ve got enough of one right here. First, I’ve got to make sure all these bachelor males that made arrangements to stay at the resort know you’re not available, and second, I’ve got to keep you satisfied.”

God, he was the only wolfish SEAL-man for her. And she loved him for it.

She touched the top edge of his towel with her fingertip. “Maybe we
could
eat afterward.” She yanked off his towel, dropped it to the floor, and dashed around him for the bedroom.

Finn tackled Meara before she got far and swept her up in his arms, loving this aspect of her also—her playfulness. She tossed back her head and laughed. She was the most beautiful thing that had happened in his life, and he couldn’t see how he’d even considered which option to choose—deadly contracts or…
this.

Plus after the shower they’d just shared, he was never going back to Navy showers.

The SEAL had caught his wolf and his only mission now was making her happy, proving to her that he had no intention of quashing her alpha tendencies, and loving her just the way she was—every sexy damned bit of her.

While
keeping
her
out
of
trouble.

Look for the first book in Terry Spear’s hot NEW shape-shifter series:

Available October 2012 from Sourcebooks Casablanca

Read on for excerpts from

The black bear was running away a hell of a lot faster than Owen Nottingham and his P.I. partner David Davis thought capable. Their hunting guide, Trevor Hodges, yelled at them to keep up, but at the rate the bear was going, Owen and David would never last. Already Owen had shin splints, and his side was aching something fierce. Damn, here he thought he was in good shape.

They couldn’t use dogs on the bear this late in the year in Maine, but the owner of Back Country Tours, Kintail Silverman, got around that by sending his pet wolves on the hunt. The sleek white-furred creatures made Owen feel like he was part of a wolf pack, hunting for survival, diving around snow-laden firs, blending in, exhilarated, hunting together as a cooperative team. The experience would have been more pleasurable if his other partners were with them—Cameron MacPherson, who wouldn’t hunt for anything other than criminals, and Gavin Summerfield, who’d rather stay in Seattle and work than fly anywhere. But the four of them were like a wolf pack, solving crimes together as a collective unit and socializing as the best of friends throughout the good times and bad.

So Owen wished they could share hunting excursions together, too.

He noticed then that there were only snowy woods in front of them. The wolves and the bear were lost in the forest ahead as the chilly wind howled through the trees. Trevor was still keeping a good pace in the distance. For a white-haired old guy, he was lean and in incredibly great shape.

David had dropped way behind, but Owen was too busy trying to keep up the chase to wait for him to catch up. One last day before their hunt ended. And, hell, they’d tried to bag a bear for the last four years without any luck. The way the bear was outdistancing them in a hurry in the Maine wilderness; Owen was beginning to lose hope they’d make it this time either. But it was the closest they’d come.

When Owen didn’t hear David’s heavy breathing behind him, or his size ten boots trudging through the deep snow, he turned and looked to see how far behind he was. David was holding his thighs, leaning over, gasping for breath.

“David, you all right?” Owen asked, knowing it was a dumb question, when he figured David was trying to catch his second wind and couldn’t answer anyway.

David motioned him on, wheezing, his face red and pinched with pain. “Get the bear! I’m fine. Go. I’ll catch up.”

But it wasn’t like David not to keep up on a hunt and Owen ran back to check on him. “What’s wrong?” Owen asked, grabbing his arm to steady him.

“Go. You’ll… never… forgive… me… if… we…” David clutched his chest.

The wolves and Trevor circled back and joined them. The old man shook his head. “Chest pains?”

Through clenched teeth, David growled, “From… running… damn it.”

David was the oldest of the four partners in their private investigator practice, but at thirty-five, David couldn’t be having a heart attack.

With millions of acres of forest land all around them, they were too deep into the wilderness to get help. Cell phones wouldn’t work out here. Owen knew CPR, but…

He helped David to sit. “What are you feeling?” he asked, trying to disguise the anxiety in his voice, although he couldn’t hide a deepening frown, and David noticed.

“Don’t be a… worry…” David clutched his chest even harder, his face sweating in the frigid air.

“We can’t get any help to him way out here,” Trevor said quietly. “If he’s having a heart attack, it’s not a bad way to go. Quick, no lingering illness.”

“No!” Owen snapped. “Do you have any aspirin?” How could he let his friend from childhood and one of the best partners he’d had in law enforcement before they’d left the force die on him? He couldn’t. “I know CPR.”

“It won’t be enough.” Trevor sounded like the voice of reason, but Owen didn’t want to hear it.

The image of David lunging in front of him, taking a bullet in the shoulder two years ago, flashed across Owen’s mind. He wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t.

The wolves watched silently, almost sympathetically as if one of their pack members was in trouble, their ears perked, their tongues hanging out, panting after the long run.

His hand clutching David’s shoulder, Owen clenched his teeth to bite back the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. “Can’t we do something? Anything?”

“Possibly,” Trevor said, “but it will change his life and yours, forever.”

“I’d do anything to save my friend’s life,” Owen said, figuring Trevor was thinking in terms of if he had enough money, they could air-evac him out somewhere, maybe in a clearing where the loggers had been.

Trevor put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “You sure?”

“Anything, damn it. However much it costs, it’s worth it.”

Trevor looked back at the wolves. The biggest one bowed its head slightly, then bared his teeth and lunged.

Before Owen could fathom what was happening, the wolf bit David in the arm. He cried out in pain.

As Owen swung his rifle to his shoulder to shoot the beast, he caught a blur of white fur in his peripheral vision, right before one of the other wolves pounced on him.

Except for a couple of cars parked outside the town hall, the lot was empty, and it appeared the wolf biologist speaking here tonight wouldn’t have much of an audience to lecture to.

The Oregon air surrounding him felt damp and cool, not like the drier, much sunnier weather Leidolf Wildhaven had left behind in Colorado. He kept telling himself he’d get used to it. Old-time brass lanterns cast a golden glow over the sidewalk. A steady breeze stirred the spring leaves of the massive white oaks that lined the brick walk leading to the two-story building. An antiquated clock chimed seven times in the center of the tower on top, announcing to everyone in the listening area that the time had arrived for the lecture to begin.

He let out his breath and headed for the building. Anything to do with wolves concerned him, and even though the “doctor” couldn’t say anything that he didn’t already know, he wanted to see how others reacted to her talk concerning them. At this rate, it looked as though no one was going to show.

He took two steps at a time up the brick stairs and strode into the building, his gaze focusing on the empty chairs and the speakerless podium.

Dressed in a gray suit, Millie Meekle, the woman in charge of tourism and special events in the area, wrung her hands nearby and shook her head, her stiff, glued-together silver hair not moving a fraction out of place.

“Oh, Mr. Wildhaven, this is a disaster. Dr. Roux had a flat tire at the place she’s staying, and my husband dropped me off here, so I haven’t any vehicle to go get her.” She waved at the empty seats. “And no one has even shown up yet.”

“Where’s she staying?”

Several men sauntered into the town hall, their boots tromping on the wooden floor, their expressions annoyed. “Where’s the doc?” one of the men asked gruffly.

Millie quickly spoke up. “She’s stuck at the Cranberry Top Bed and Breakfast. Mr. Wildhaven’s kind enough to offer to get her. She’s staying in the Blue Room, first door on the left down the hall from the entryway,” she directed Leidolf.

The man snorted. “We don’t need no damned wolf biologist telling us how we should reintroduce wolves into the wild out here.”

“Now, Mr. Hollis,” Millie said.

“Don’t ‘Now, Mr. Hollis’ me, Millie. You know I raise sheep, and if any damn wolf slinks onto my land, I’ll kill him dead. That’s what I’ll do.”

“I’ll go get her,” Leidolf said. He stalked out of the building with its oppressive heat and back into the cool out-of-doors. He hadn’t figured any of the livestock owners would bother to come to the meeting, but after seeing the burly men, he was afraid the professor was bound for trouble.

Climbing into his Humvee, he assumed the woman probably wouldn’t get a whole lot of lecturing done but instead would be faced with a barrage of condemning remarks. He still couldn’t figure out why in the world she’d come here instead of lecturing to a more intellectual crowd in the city of Portland, two hours away.

Putting the vehicle in drive, he headed to the Cranberry Top, a quaint little red-roofed home with white siding and a white picket fence. Like many of the homes in the area, the place had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast inn because it was situated on a creek perfect for fishing and picturesque Mount Hood could be seen way off in the distance. Great for a Portland getaway.

When Leidolf arrived at the inn, he saw the vehicle in question, a green pickup with California plates that was tilting to one side.
Women.
Probably didn’t know how to change a tire or call for someone to come and fix a flat.

He’d barely opened the door to his Humvee when a woman hurried out, red hair in curls down to her shoulders and bouncing with her every step, eyes sea green and wide and hopeful, brow furrowed as she clutched a leather satchel tightly against her chest and headed straight for him.
Dr. Roux?
At least he presumed that’s who she was, only he’d expected someone a lot less leggy and less stunning to look at.

What he’d figured he’d see was a gray-haired older woman, her hair swept back in a bun, with oval gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Instead, this woman looked to be in her midtwenties and in terrific form, with shapely legs and a body to match. He envisioned her hiking through woods on wilderness treks to observe wolves, dispelling the notion that she was strictly a classroom lecturer.

“Dr. Roux?” he asked, feeling more like a knight in shining armor now.

She didn’t smile but looked worried as hell as she chewed a glossy lip and then gave a stiff nod. “Did Millie send you for me?” She didn’t wait for him to answer and motioned to the truck. “I changed the tire already.”

He frowned and glanced back at the flat tire.

“Someone was nice enough to ruin the spare also when I ran inside to clean up,” she added, her tone peeved. “It was too late to have the spare fixed before the meeting.”

Irritated that any of the townspeople would treat her that way, he bit back a curse. Yet he couldn’t help being surprised for a second time. First, by her appearance. Now, by how capable the little woman was.

He motioned to his Humvee. “I’m Leidolf Wildhaven, rancher south of town. I’ll take you to the meeting and have one of my men fix the tires while you’re lecturing.”

“A rancher,” she said softly, her voice slightly condemning.

He cast her a smidgen of a smile. “Yeah, but cougars are the only animals that bother me of late. Wolves? They’re my kind of animal. Protective, loyal—you know, like a dog, man’s best friend.”

“They’re wild, Mr.—”

“I’d prefer you call me Leidolf.”

“I’m Cassie. Never met a rancher before who liked wolves.” She sounded as though she didn’t believe he would care for wolves. Maybe even worried that he might cause her trouble when she lectured.