A SEAL in Wolf’s Clothing by Terry Spear Read Free Book Online

not to notice that she was staring at his nakedness again, he motioned to the rifle in her hands. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
    Her gaze shot up from eyeing his torso, and she snorted, raising the rifle parallel to her body. “You mean this?” She laid the rifle on the kitchen counter. “I’m just as accurate at shooting as you or any of the rest of your SEAL team. I’m surprised Hunter didn’t tell you I’m an expert marksman at a range.” She grabbed a pot holder shaped like a large red-hot chili pepper off the counter and handed it to Finn. “Cover yourself, will you?”
    He gave her a small smile. He knew Meara was more than a little physically attracted to him. At least if the way her feminine pheromones were kicking his into high gear was any indication. As wolves, they sensed the pheromones in each other. If they’d been only human, the pheromones would still have played a role, but only subconsciously as the released pheromones sent signals to the hypothalamus region of the brain.
    Her physical reaction to him—her increased heart rate, darkened eyes, and erect nipples poking at the silky fabric of her blouse—showed just how much her sexual response had heightened. But her female pheromones were also triggering his testosterone to surge, which meant he was getting damned horny around her again.
    Otherwise, nudity between wolves shouldn’t have mattered. Although he had to remind himself that playing with fire wasn’t something he wanted to do.
    He tossed the pot holder on the bar counter. “It’s not big enough to do the job.”
    She laughed. But it was more of a haughty, give-me-a-break laugh than one of fun.
    He chuckled under his breath as he strode down the hall to her bedroom. Her footfalls padded after him.
    “So? Did you find any signs of a shooter?” she asked, sounding worried.
    He glanced back at her and found her gaze riveted on his ass. Her eyes immediately rose to meet his, and to his amusement, her cheeks flushed crimson.
    “We’re leaving.” He entered the bedroom, then grabbed his bag and dug around in it. He pulled out a different set of clothes—black denim, black T-shirt, and black boots, all more suited to the job he now had to do. But it was the pair of white boxers that caught her attention. They were strictly utilitarian so he wondered why she was so fixed on them. He quickly began to get dressed.
    His words must have finally sunk in, because she shifted her gaze to his face and said, “What?” She sounded incredulous, which he figured was why she hadn’t responded in the negative yet.
    But he knew that was coming. “Tell your sub-leaders you’re taking a trip. You can’t tell them where you’re going or how long you’ll be gone.”
    She pursed her lips, eyeing him with irritation. “You listen here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve leased the cabins, and it’s my job to see to the guests’ comforts.”
    He yanked on his shirt. This was nonnegotiable. Meara was not going to be “seeing to the guests’ comforts.”
    Before he could say so, she said, “I’m staying here. You have no right ordering me about. If some assassin is after the members of the team, he’ll be targeting you, not me. So you need to get as far away from me as possible.” She quickly folded her arms underneath her breasts. Her face turned a hot red and her lips thinned as she scowled at him.
    “Hunter is the only one of us who has family. You don’t think they won’t also target you?” He was trying for negotiator calm—an attempt to settle the crisis in a nonthreatening way. But her defensive posture said she wasn’t falling for that, and although he tried his best to cover it up, his irritation was showing. “None of the rest of us has to worry about the assassin coming after our loved ones,” he tried again, sitting on the bed to pull on his boots.
    He would attempt to convince her in a reasonable way, but if he had to take unreasonable methods to protect