several blankets, he tugged his wool Stetson low over his brow, pulled up his collar and went outside. A blast of icy air slammed into him, sending a chill snaking down his spine. Cooper climbed into the Ford pickup and started the engine.
Damn nasty night to be outside. Maybe the princess had decided to sightsee and didn’t have the foresight, or the courtesy, to phone and let him know she’d be delayed. But as he drove through the increasing snowflakes, worry niggled him.
Coop knew his irritation masked a greater emotion—grief. It was far easier to give way to anger than to examine the winking light of deep grief that had gripped him since they’d lowered Brie into the ground. He’d refused to cry, held back the tidal wave of sorrow so he could stay strong for his family.
Focus. It was what had gotten him through missions with the team and brought him home alive time after time. He squinted as the truck’s headlights barely pierced the thick gloom of snow.
If she’s decided to hole up in some ritzy hotel and I’m out here for nothing, I’ll really be pissed.
But the same tingle that skated down his spine grew stronger. Gut instinct. Had saved his butt a time or two before on missions, so he never ignored it.
Instead of continuing down the main road, he turned off the side road that was a shortcut leading to the farm. Jarrett had given Meg directions, a disposable cell phone that couldn’t be tracked, and the fastest way to get to the farm. If Meg used this road and her car had broken down by chance, she’d be doomed because only locals used the shortcut.
And most locals were smart enough to be snug at home, curled up by the fire with mugs of hot chocolate, not riding around in a late-autumn blizzard.
He drove for two miles and was nearly ready to give up when he spotted an older model white sedan parked by the roadside. It looked deserted, but the tingle down his spine intensified.
Cooper parked behind the car and got out. A blast of icy wind slammed into him, slicing his cheeks like tiny darting needles. Damn, that was cold! The snow had stopped and turned to freezing rain. Driving on these roads was gonna be hell, but the truck was steady and he knew this turf.
His sole concern focused now on the occupant of the car. Using his Maglite flashlight he always carried in the truck, he shone light into the car.
A slender woman and a dog lay on the backseat curled up beneath a quilt. Neither responded as he opened the door. The dome light overhead didn’t even turn on.
Damn it! Cooper was glad she’d had the sense not to lock the car doors. He checked her vitals. Alive, but groggy, suffering from the early stages of hypothermia. He gathered her into his arms. His heart raced. She was so tiny and fragile. Storms blew in fast in this region, and what started out as a sunny day could quickly turn into bone-chilling temperatures.
He surveyed the fashionable, ankle-length black suede boots, thin trousers and light sweater. Dressed for a cocktail party, not the northern climate.
The woman, barely conscious, moaned as he picked her up and placed her into the back cab of his truck. Coop covered her with the thick wool blankets, slammed the door shut with the heater running, and returned to the sedan.
A small brown-and-white dog lay on the seat, looking half dead. Its fur was clipped short in a puppy cut and its eyes were closed.
A sparkling rhinestone collar with a heart pendant ringed its fat little neck. Next to it was a fancy-looking dog purse with a gold monogram that looked expensive enough to feed his horses for the next three months.
Despite the freezing rain dripping down his neck, Coop stopped and stared. “This is the vicious killer? I had stuffed animals more ferocious.”
Sheesh.
He gathered the dog into his arms and raced to the truck, placing the dog gently on the seat next to Meg. Then he made a quick call to Fiona, assuring his mother he’d found Meg and would return home shortly.
Coop cranked up the heat to full blast, then climbed into the backseat. He removed his jacket and wrapped the dog in it until it resembled a furry burrito.
Had to get this wet clothing off Meg. With a murmured apology, he removed her damp sweater, trying to avoid looking at her breasts, but it was tough. She had lovely breasts, full and generous, and a lacy red bra that was mouthwatering.
Focus.
As he went to drape her in a blanket, he saw enormous yellow and blue bruises on her arm.
Cooper went still. Rage boiled inside him. He gently touched one and heard her moan. Cooper pulled her upper body into his lap and tucked her hands between his thighs, knowing that area held the most warmth.
Yeah, it was doing wonders for his groin, but he’d survive.
Her eyes fluttered open. Green as the Caribbean he loved for scuba diving. Confusion flickered in her irises, then she blinked and panic set in. She tried to pull her hands from between his thighs.
“No,” she whispered. “No, please don’t make me do that. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”
Jaw tightening, he forced her hands to remain between his legs. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe now, but you’re in danger of getting hypothermia.”
Had to get her back to the cottage, get her warm before the storm got worse. Cooper gently disentangled himself from Meg. The little dog looked up, whined. She’d feel safer with the dog in her arms. As Cooper reached out for the dog, the animal growled.
And promptly bit his hand.
Such delicious warmth.
Meg slowly opened her eyes. She’d been back at the car, Sophie curled beside her, wondering how they would survive the storm and not freeze to death. The cold had pierced her bones like icy knives.
And then she’d closed her eyes, trying to keep her dog warm by holding Sophie tight. The nightmare had been too real. Sophie, kicked out of the house by her husband, wandering the streets during a south Florida cold snap. Curling up in a doorway to stay warm, whimpering and afraid, confused as to why her owners had abandoned her...
She drove, as she had in the past when it really happened, searching the streets for her beloved dog. But this time during the nightmare, a handsome stranger picked Sophie into his arms and scowled at Meg, as if blaming her for Sophie’s condition.
Now as she stirred, she became aware of lying in a warm bed, blankets piled atop her. A lamp glowed softly on a nightstand.
Meg realized she wore only panties and a bra.
And in addition to being half-naked, there was a hard male body next to her, also half-naked. Panic swept through her. She startled and moved away, but a strong, muscled arm hooked around her waist.
“Relax,” a deep male voice said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The voice was strange, tinged with amusement and a New England accent. The body belonging
