A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing (Heart of the Wolf #9) 9

“And indoors?”

She couldn’t help smiling just a hint, seeing where this conversation was headed. He seemed interested in her, although if he was a friend of Hunter’s, that made her really wary. She motioned to her bookcase in the living area. “I’ve got a library of books, if you like to read.”

“Books,” he said under his breath, not looking all that interested.

“Books,” she repeated, serious now that he was supposed to be a friend of Hunter’s. Then figuring it was time to do something about the guy down the hall, she pushed the warning note to Joe about the possible intruder.

Watching carefully to see his reaction as he read the note, her hand shifted to the knife drawer in case this guy was also bad news.

Finn Emerson didn’t recognize the voice of the man Meara was entertaining in the kitchen, nor did he know the guy he was remotely viewing on his cell phone. He’d sent the image of the man in an email to his friends to see if any of them could identify him.

Hell, Finn couldn’t believe Hunter had left Meara alone to manage the cabin resort.

Just seeing Hunter’s sister set Finn’s heart racing. He wanted to say that was because he was concerned about her welfare, but he knew better. She was too damned enticing.

The sexy spitfire was bound to get herself into a hell of a lot of trouble if someone as capable as Hunter wasn’t here to watch over her—or at the very least, one of his sub-leaders, as long as neither of them had designs on her that Hunter didn’t approve of. But with a maniac on the loose, she was in even greater danger.

The guy talked about fishing and other mundane topics while Finn watched the two of them on the hidden camera, making sure the renter wasn’t about to try anything. But when she passed the note to Joe Matheson, Finn suspected she must have smelled his scent, recalling the way she’d tilted her chin up and taken a deep breath earlier.

Matheson had also sampled the air, and Finn didn’t think that was because of Meara’s fragrance, but because of the other male wolf in the cabin. When Joe read the note that she’d passed to him, the guy didn’t do anything but give a stiff nod and a small smile.

Matheson was definitely an alpha. Despite smelling another male wolf on the premises, he didn’t make his excuses and leave for his own cabin. Instead, he was standing his ground. Finn assumed Matheson would come for him soon. Ready for the confrontation, Finn smiled sardonically.

He hadn’t thought Meara would get home this soon, considering the distance her place was from the airport. She must have driven like the proverbial bat out of hell to get here in time to meet with Joe Matheson. And here Finn was, in the middle of bugging her room and home phone when she had arrived. Why the hell had she disclosed to the renter, whom she didn’t know, where Hunter was and that she was alone?

Even though she’d mentioned the pack, none of them were hanging around her place, visible enough to show anyone who might threaten her that she had backup. Finn wondered if Matheson truly had been a friend of Hunter’s. Finn’s instincts told him Joe Matheson wasn’t one of the bad guys, though. Except for making not-so-subtle moves on Meara.

Meara’s voice sounded smooth as satin and silky with seduction as she talked to Joe. Hell. Finn had planned on waiting until this Joe character went to his cabin, but at this rate, the rental guest wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And when Matheson asked what they could do inside? Finn didn’t like it that the guy was making a play for her already—although Finn certainly couldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed and he hadn’t had such close ties with Hunter and knew what trouble she could be, Finn would have been making the moves on Meara himself.

She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and spoke animatedly, while damn if Matheson wasn’t eating her actions up.

It was time to take charge of the situation—and Meara.

Finn closed the bedroom door without making a sound, then yanked off his clothes again, littering them all over the floor. Afterward, he mussed up the sheets and comforter, inhaling Meara’s appealing feminine scent. God, she was sexy, but under no circumstances did he want to tangle with her in that respect.

He figured the best way to get rid of the guy in the kitchen and protect her from the possible threat to her well-being was to lay claim to her—in a pretend way, of course. She and he had butted heads enough in the past when he and Hunter had returned from missions that he wasn’t going down that vine-twisted path. She was under the mistaken impression that he had always talked Hunter into another mission after they had left the Navy. But half the time, Hunter had sought him out to conduct another privately contracted undercover operation.

Finn headed into the bathroom, started the shower, and entered the glassed-in stall. He figured any scenario would work to his advantage as he quickly soaped up, using her vanilla-scented bath soap—wondering just how enticing it would smell on her skin—rinsed off, and grabbed a towel. The two of them had to have heard him taking a shower. Either she would send Joe in to investigate, or they’d both check him out. In any event, they’d find her lover waiting for her—in the bedroom, for better effect. If they didn’t investigate, he’d quickly remedy that.

He walked out of the bathroom towel-drying his hair, naked, water droplets dribbling down his shoulders, his chest, and his thighs, and found a slack-jawed Meara staring at his body. Which made his loins react as if on cue. Hell.

She was as beautiful as ever. Her dark hair curled over her shoulders in a cascade of silk tresses. Black denim fit her hips and legs in a seductive way, and a turquoise satin blouse accentuated her pert breasts. He finally managed to pull his gaze away from her and consider the hulking black-haired man who was aiming a rifle at him. Joe looked at home holding the rifle, as if he’d used one in military operations, and as short as his hair was, he did look like he was in the military. That made Finn question who the guy really was. Although, if Joe had been the assassin, he’d already have made his move.

“Meara,” Finn said in a deeply seductive way, his gaze shifting back to hers as if the armed man didn’t worry him in the least, “I didn’t expect you back from the airport so soon after seeing Hunter and Tessa off. You must have missed me.” He gave an inviting wink, telling her just how much he’d enjoyed being with her.

He slipped the towel around his waist as if it was an afterthought, but he noted that Meara had been taking her fill of his nakedness, her enticing lips still parted in surprise. Even though their kind shifted and it wasn’t that big a deal to be seen naked by others in a pack, he wasn’t of her pack, and he wasn’t shifting. He thought that explained some of her reaction.

Then he turned his attention to Joe. In a dark way that left no doubt he was worried she was already throwing him over for someone else, Finn asked, “Who’s he?”

Chapter 3

“Is this guy a close friend of yours, Meara?” Joe asked, still pointing the rifle at Finn, his brows furrowed with menace.

Despite Joe’s alpha-wolf posturing, Finn swore that the man wasn’t an assassin. But a hint of something else lurked beneath the surface. This guy truly was interested in Meara, Finn suspected.

Although he scoffed at himself. Why wouldn’t Joe be? She was attractive, intelligent, and even a pack leader’s sister. She was an unattached female, and if Joe was looking for a mate, she wouldn’t be a bad prospect for someone who was willing to be tied down. That bothered Finn more than he was willing to allow.

Finally finding her voice, Meara asked Finn, “What are you doing here?”

Her words had a whispered, breathy quality, but they weren’t dismissive. She chewed her bottom lip and appeared worried, maybe figuring the only reason he would be here was that something was wrong. He had considered that she might think he had another mission for Hunter, since she wouldn’t let go of the notion that Finn, not Hunter, arranged them. Under normal circumstances, Finn would never have come on to her like this—even in a pretend way. Not only that, but if Hunter had initially contacted him for another undercover operation, Finn would have known Hunter wasn’t here.

She had to realize the situation was really bad if he was putting on a show of being her lover. But she also had to know he wouldn’t say what the trouble was in front of Joe.

“He’s… Joe Matheson is renting the blue cottage,” she said, answering Finn’s question rather than Joe’s.

“You didn’t mention that last night…” Finn motioned to the disheveled bed. “…but then I must have distracted you.” He cast a purely wicked smile at her.

Her flustered expression quickly changed from startled to worried and finally to the way he always remembered her whenever he dropped by to see Hunter about another mission—annoyed—as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. His gaze lingered on the silk blouse she wore, and he swore her nipples were ripening into mouthwatering peaks right before his eyes.

She cleared her throat. “We need to talk.”

“Just what I had in mind. As soon as you tell Joe where his cabin is and he settles in there, we’ll have that little talk.” He strode to the other side of the bed and lifted his duffel bag as if he’d already moved in. Which he had, whether she liked it or not. Setting the bag on the bed, he unzipped the zipper and then glanced at the two of them. Meara was still staring at him in disbelief, while Joe’s expression indicated that he’d gotten to the party a little too late.

“The blue cabin is the closest to this one heading north, Joe,” Finn said to get the ball rolling, having already scoped out all of the cabins and memorized their names and locations, according to the listings in Meara’s notebook. All of them were empty, ready for occupancy. And he was past ready for Joe to move along.

Finn pulled out a fresh pair of boxer shorts, khaki shorts, a tank shirt, and a pair of flip-flops.

“Who is he?” Joe asked again, his voice rough with contempt, and yet Finn could have sworn he heard a ribbon of amusement in Joe’s tone, as if his actions were all a show.