“I’m a grown woman,” Meara said caustically, hating how much her brother tried to take charge of her life.

Finn helped her out of her tank top and pressed his mouth against her bare shoulder. “As well I know.”

“You don’t think I really have a thing for Allan, do you?” she asked, hoping Finn didn’t think so as he helped her step out of her khakis.

She groaned with the effort as her sore legs and the bruise on her hip reminded her how it felt to be at the bottom of the heap when two alpha male wolves fought.

Finn’s expression turned concerned as he gave her a hand into the tub. “No, I’m not worried about you and Allan. He’s only the one for you for the moment because he’s not here. I’ll be right back.” Finn gave her a knowing wink, then headed out of the bathroom and closed the door.

She turned on the jets in the tub and noticed a container of lavender bubble bath that must have been left behind by the people who’d had to leave in a hurry so Finn could move her in. She’d never had a bubble bath because they seemed too prissy and pampering. Eyeing it, she finally gave in, seized the bottle, and poured some of the bubble bath into the heated water. Nothing much happened, so she kept pouring until the bubbles began to surface.

“How is she?” Meara heard Paul ask Finn from the living room a couple of minutes later.

“Bruised and sore, but she’ll be fine.”

“Is she mad at us?”

She couldn’t believe that Paul would be worried how she felt about them and not angry with her for causing all the trouble by taking a run on the wolf side. She realized then that they didn’t consider her as a civilian but part of the extended family, so to speak. That made her appreciate Hunter’s team members all the more.

The water from the jets was stirring up the lavender bubbles something fierce, and the cloud of bubbles was growing and growing and growing. She stared at the massive, building foam and hoped it would stop any second now.

“I’m going to look around the area and make sure the guy didn’t have a buddy or two with him,” Meara could hear Bjornolf saying. “And take care of the body.”

“Good idea,” Finn agreed.

The back door closed with a clunk as Bjornolf headed out.

“No, she’s not mad at us,” Finn assured Paul. “Is Anna all right?”

“Yeah, she’s making a sweep of the area in her car.” Paul let out a harried sigh. “Hell, man, you know we all were interested in Meara. But none of us would approach her because of how much we respect Hunter.”

“I’m protecting her,” Finn said, as if defending his honor.

Paul snorted. “Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been in southern Florida, I would have been protecting that sweet body of hers, not you.”

Now Meara knew why Paul had been wearing the palm-tree shirt. She quickly turned off the jets, but the foot-high bubbles were stretching over the tub walls and boiling onto the tile floor. She groaned.

“Watch the place, will you?” Finn said, sounding more like he was giving an order than asking a question.

“What are you going to do?”

“Take Meara some Epsom salt. The brute strained her muscles and bruised her, making her pretty sore.”

“Oh.”

Epsom salt. Would it mix well with the bubble bath? She really didn’t want Finn to see the mountains of lavender she’d created. Footfalls headed down the hall toward the bathroom, and Meara sank under the foam still bubbling to the surface of the warm water, hating that he would see the mess she’d made.

“Finn?” Paul said.

Finn stopped in the hallway halfway to the bedroom. “Yeah?”

“You know Hunter’s going to be pissed with all the attention you’ve been paying her, don’t you?”

Finn harrumphed and headed back down the hall toward the master bedroom.

Meara assumed her brother wouldn’t like how cozy she and Finn had become when there was no way a mating would follow. But then again, Finn was keeping her safe, and Hunter would have to appreciate that. Nothing else would happen between Finn and her. Once they discovered whoever was ordering the hits on them, he’d go back to his secret missions, and she’d work on bringing alpha males to the cabin rentals again. End of story.

Missing the feel of the jets, she turned them on again, closed her eyes, leaned back against the numbing pulses of water aimed at strategic parts of her back, and purred.

“I love it when you do that,” Finn said, closing the bathroom door behind him, a slight smile on his lips as he stared at the huge mound of bubbles half hiding her.

Her eyes shot open. “You love it when I do what?” she asked innocently. She had no idea what he meant.

“Purr.” He mixed some Epsom salt into the water. Testing the warmth, he dipped his hand lower until he found her thigh and then ran his fingers not so innocently over her skin, and nodded. “Just the right temperature. But you could probably use some more bubbles.”

“You’re so funny,” she said sarcastically.

He chuckled and stood. She thought he might join her, but he probably wasn’t interested in smelling like lavender. The scent had a calming effect, though, and smelled divine.

He handed her a washcloth. “If you need me for anything, just holler. I’ll be talking with Paul in the living room, trying to sort out what’s going on.”

Then after one more longing look at the water—she wasn’t sure if it was because he wished he could see the part of her buried under the bubbles or if he just wished he could soak his muscles in the warm water, too—he left and closed the door behind him.

She figured that Paul had made Finn come to his senses. That Finn realized he shouldn’t have been with her like he’d been. She knew Paul was right, but she couldn’t help feeling a bone-deep disappointment.

She wasn’t sure what she liked so much about Finn. Maybe how after she’d expected him to really be angry with her, he had acted chivalrously instead by taking the blame for not protecting her better. Or how he’d been ashamed that he hadn’t been doing what he was supposed to while watching her. Or maybe the way he had come for her last night, worried that she was leaving him and sleeping in another room, and he wasn’t having any of it. She still didn’t know if he had wanted to make sure she was well protected or to prove to her he could keep his hands off her the rest of the night. Not that he had, but at least they had slept the rest of the evening and hadn’t pleasured each other again.

But even so, she had dreamed a fantasy scenario of having him all over again in the middle of the night, only that time he was fully inside her. She sighed. All good things must come to an end, she told herself.

With that disconcerting thought, she closed her eyes and considered what she might have done that would make anyone think she’d somehow managed to save Hunter and his team on their last mission. That could be the root of all the trouble they were in now, she thought as the jets continued to shoot pulsating columns of water at her tender muscles.

All she could think of was Hunter’s leaving, and how he wouldn’t let her date Cyn Iverson while he was away on that final SEAL mission.

What had Finn said? Only that Bjornolf had told him she’d saved them. But what had she done? She envisioned the day the men had left. Hunter packing his gear. Her glowering at him. Probably having a heated word or two. She knew he was obligated to do the mission, but she hated that he was trying to control her life so much, whether he was off on a mission or home on leave. The man she was supposed to have a date with had been such a gentleman that she couldn’t understand Hunter’s objection to her seeing him. Cyn hadn’t done one thing to make Hunter dislike him so.

Bubbles popped under her chin as she sank deeper into the bathwater, wishing it would stay hot longer. Her cell phone rang, startling her. She turned off the jets and reached over the tub to snag the phone from her pants pocket. Expecting Hunter to be calling her, she yanked the phone out, and without looking to see the caller ID, said, “Hello?”

“It’s Rourke.”

At first she was so surprised he’d called that she just sat there staring at the phone. Then, regaining her wits, she asked, “Rourke, why are you calling me?”

Since Rourke was newly turned, normally his handler, Chris, would have called her. If anything was going on with the pack that she should know about, one of her long-term pack members would have gotten in touch with her. Rourke should have gone through Chris.

“I’m a reporter,” he said, sounding annoyed, as if he knew just what she had been thinking.

“So?”

The bathwater was beginning to grow uncomfortably cool, and she was starting to wrinkle, so she had intended to get out and wanted him to get to the point.

Rourke said hotly, “An investigative reporter. Nobody in the pack will let me write about anything but the most unimportant drivel. But one of my watchdogs—”

“Watchdogs?” Meara said, annoyed.

“Watch-wolves, whatever. I can’t believe lupus garous have such a hang-up about being referred to in any way as dogs. They are loyal and man’s best—”

“Rourke, what do you have to tell me that’s so important you didn’t wait to tell Chris?”

A heavy pause followed as if Rourke was trying to forget the issue of being referred to as dogs or wolves. Then he said, “Chris mentioned something about a card being left with one of Hunter’s SEAL team members, Allan, when he was wounded in Pompano Beach. The card was the Knight of Swords. I asked if Chris had talked to you, and he said he didn’t want to bother you with it. Do you know what it means?”

“No, I’ve never heard of it.” Why hadn’t Chris wanted to tell her about it? Even if she didn’t know what it meant, if a sub-leader of the pack knew, then she should have been informed.

“It’s a tarot card picturing a young man riding a white horse, sword raised, as he’s charging into battle. The card symbolizes taking risk, rushing headlong into danger. It represents an impulsive reaction, without a lot of thought given to the course of action that needs to be taken. The individual is full of passion, nearly blinded with the drive to accomplish the mission without regard for his own safety.”