Her Guardian Shifter

“I know, but...” She gestured helplessly at the storm raging around them. “You drove up here in this?”

“This?” Frowning, he didn’t appear to understand what she meant. Before she could elaborate, he turned back toward his car. “I need to get my son. Do you mind if we continue this discussion inside?”

His son. Struck dumb by both his recklessness and his masculine beauty, she nodded. Then, because she loved babies as much as she loved snow, she followed him over to the car and tried to peer around him as he unbuckled his son’s infant carrier.

She caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes peering out from a tiny, bundled up face. As she leaned in closer, her tenant, clearly not realizing she’d moved in so close, caught her with his elbow under the chin and sent her flying backward.

“Oof.” Down she went, right on her behind. Luckily, all her layers plus the several inches of fluffy snow provided lots of padding. Nothing got hurt except her pride.

Her tenant glanced back over his shoulder at her, clearly unaware what had happened. “Are you all right?” he asked, his cautious tone telling her he’d begun to consider the possibility that she might be nuts.

For a split second she debated telling him what had happened. Pushing to her feet, she once again dusted off snow, the cold dampness beginning to seep through her layers to her skin. And then she caught sight of Eric’s son, and completely forgot what she’d been about to say.

The instant the baby locked eyes with her, he grinned and wrinkled his cute little nose. All bundled up in his snowsuit, cap and mittens, he looked like a precious baby seal with bright blue eyes. As his daddy lifted him up, he cooed.

Like his father, his cuteness factor was off the charts.

“Come on,” she said, conscious of the freezing temperature and icy wind. “I don’t want him to get frostbite.”

Eric Mikkelson stared and shook his head. “He has Norwegian blood,” he said, as if that explained everything. “This snowstorm is nothing compared to the ones I grew up with in Norway. I dressed him warmly. He’ll be fine.”

Fine? She managed to refrain from shaking her head while she tromped her way through the deepening snow to her front door. When she turned back to look for him, for a second she couldn’t see him, the baby or his car due to the blowing, swirling snow.

Chapter 2 (#u6687b5f8-f0d5-5965-a652-236c95eec34e)

An instant of panic disappeared the moment JJ caught sight of her new tenant striding up her walk, his son clutched securely to his massive chest.

Again with the striding? As if the snow wasn’t even there. Maybe it had something to do with his height.

Then, before she had time to pretend she wasn’t gaping, he reached her. Fumbling, her hands cold even in her lined ski gloves, she opened the door. “Come on inside.”

As she began the laborious process of removing her many layers of warm clothes, she watched him shrug out of his coat and then get busy undressing the baby. In disbelief, she processed not only the fact that Eric wore just a black sweater under his parka, but that his infant son did, too.

Unable to tear her gaze away, even though she knew her stare might be rude, she exhaled.

Eric Mikkelson was a big man. Not just tall, not just broad, but an appealing combination of the two. Throw in some killer muscles, a narrow waist and lean hips, and he was the stuff of which feminine fantasies were made.

She frowned. Since when did she need to even start thinking about another man, never mind fantasizing about one? If her relationship with Shawn had taught her anything, it had shown her she clearly needed to live alone and figure out how she’d let herself become so...

Since leaving Shawn, she’d tried out several different adjectives and discarded them, because no one single word could adequately describe how much of herself she’d let Shawn destroy. Thankfully, she’d finally gotten the courage to flee.

No, she thought, eyeing the gorgeous masculine specimen in front of her, a man was the last thing she needed.

Still, she’d have to be dead not to appreciate this man’s appeal. And of course, there was his baby.

The infant made a curious snuffling sound. She wondered exactly what species of shape-shifter Eric might be. His aura, like hers, revealed him to be a shifter, though not what kind. And while she hadn’t met too many others, she knew there were many different types of animals besides her wolf. In fact, this little town had recently gained notoriety among shifters for revealing another rare species of shifter, the Drakkor, or dragon shifter. They’d welcomed several into life in their town, even though most of the residents of Forestwood were Pack, or wolf, like JJ.

She’d bet Eric Mikkelson wasn’t wolf. Still eyeing him, she figured he might be a big cat, like a lion or panther. Though his movements and size reminded her more of a grizzly. She swallowed hard. The Vedjorn bear shifters were as rare as Drakkor, and for good reason. They were unstable and frequently dangerous. They kept to themselves and, unlike the other species of shifters, rarely if ever intermarried outside of their own kind. Not that anyone else wanted anything to do with them.

“Are you all right?”

Crud. She’d been standing staring at him, most likely with her mouth wide-open or a big, dopey smile on her face. Flustered, she nodded. “Yes, sorry. I’m fine. It’s just that...” she began. Horrified, she realized she’d been about to breach the most sacred etiquette between shifters. Yikes. There was no way she could ask him what kind of animal he changed into.

“Yes?” he asked, his tone patient, a smile playing along the edge of his sensual mouth. Once again she’d gotten lost in thought. Obviously, her social skills had also vanished with her previous life.

“I’m sorry,” she finally repeated, wincing as the second apology crept out. “It’s just, I wasn’t expecting you today and now that you’re here, you aren’t at all what I expected.” As she wound to the end of her rambling, her entire face flamed.

“But I confirmed that I would pick up the keys today,” he said, his expression puzzled.

“Yes, but...” She waved her fingers at her large picture window. “With the storm, I thought you’d reschedule.”

Tilting his big, shaggy head, he considered her. Then he grinned, his blue eyes sparking with amusement. And just like that, he went from great looking to absolutely drop-dead sexy.

So help her, her knees went weak again and her breath caught in her chest. Damn.

“You’re joking, right?” His good-natured question prompted her to agree.

“Of course I am,” she managed to reply, attempting a wobbly smile. Thank goodness she at least didn’t sound breathless. “What’s a little blizzard to someone from Norway, right?” Even if that someone had been living in California for years, according to his application.

“Exactly.” The warm glance he sent her invited her to share in his amusement. He swung his large head around to check out the central foyer, while expertly rocking his son’s carrier. The stairs to her place were to the left. His front door was underneath the staircase.

“Would you mind showing me the way to my place? It’s been a long day and I’d like to get settled in as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.” She matched his brisk tone. “Follow me.”

When she’d arrived to claim the house she’d inherited, she’d been surprised to see it had been built as two separate living areas. Both the top floor and the bottom were self-contained dwellings, each with their own kitchen and bathrooms. She’d claimed the top floor. Years of living in the city had taught her she’d be safer there. And the bottom floor she’d rented out to him, her very first tenant ever.

Luckily, the top floor had its own separate entrance, so they’d both have plenty of privacy. And she would have some income to tide her over until she figured out exactly what she wanted to do.

“You’ll have the entire bottom floor,” she said, opening his front door and stepping aside. “Here it is. All yours.”

Still bouncing the baby, he pushed past her and stopped, turning in a half circle to take it all in.

“Wow.” His deep laugh reminded her of hot cocoa spiced with Kahlúa. “When you said it came furnished, I was relieved. I confess, I actually pictured Ikea or maybe an eclectic mix of garage sale and discount store. What I didn’t envision was this. It’s very...” Words seemed to fail him.

“Old lady-ish?” she suggested helpfully, unable to keep from smiling. “All of this stuff belonged to my great-aunt Olivia.” She didn’t tell him the reason she’d kept the fussy, outdated furniture was because she not only didn’t have any of her own, but currently didn’t have the funds to replace it.

“I see,” he said, eyeing a particularly delicate looking chair. “To be honest, I’m afraid I’ll break that if I sit in it.”

She had to admit he was probably right. “I’ll switch it out with something else,” she said, trying to sound businesslike. “Here are your keys.”

When she went to hand them off, her fingers brushed his. Damn. A curious swooping pull swept through her, momentarily making her head spin.

“Are you all right?” he asked yet again, watching her closely, as if he expected her to fall over in a dead faint at any second.

“Yes.” Biting back her second almost automatic apology, she forced a smile. Life with Shawn had compelled her to apologize for everything, even stuff that wasn’t her fault. She’d been consciously trying to break the habit ever since she’d gotten free.

“I guess I’d better leave you to it,” she continued brightly. “I’m just upstairs if you need anything.”