Читать книгу: «Dan All Over Again: Dan All Over Again / The Mountie Steals A Wife», страница 2
“Mmm.” She suspected Pam was assessing her with her arms crossed in front of her, but Cassie couldn’t take her eyes off Dan to see for sure.
“You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” Pam asked.
“We’re going to be friends, nothing more.”
“You are so not going to be friends with that look on your face.”
“Stay here until I give you the sign. That means everything’s okay, and I’ll see you back here tonight. I’ll call when we return, and you can come get me.” Cassie took the cooler from her and started over. “Thanks for coming with me.”
Pam lifted up Sammy. “Er, Cassie? Forget something?”
“Of course not,” she said, placing Sammy back in the bag. “Just making sure you were paying attention.”
“Mmm.”
She caught herself sucking loudly on her butter rum again and crunched it up before she reached Dan’s boat. It was a nice boat, medium-size with a roof over the helm, and open in the back. Ooh, he still had a nice behind, though he’d always thought it was too small. In those tight shorts of his, she still couldn’t find anything lacking about that derriere.
That’s when he chose to turn around, catching her with goodness-knows-what look on her face. She laughed when he looked as shocked as she had earlier, even doing that open mouth thing.
He removed his sunglasses and blinked. “Cassie?”
“The one and only.”
2
IT FELT STRANGE TO CASSIE, seeing Dan like this, both familiar and exciting, and way too nice. His smile of surprise made her feel the same way she had all those years ago when they’d met, one of those wham-right-in-the-gut things. She’d been out on a boat with some friends, and they’d stopped at an outdoor bar on the water. Dan had been there with his fishing buddies, doing karaoke and laughing it up.
She’d passed him on the way from the rest room, and they’d been frozen right there. She’d never felt anything like it before. They didn’t know what to say, each fumbling over their words like two teenagers fresh into puberty. Finally they’d broken away and returned to their respective tables.
Then for the next hour, they’d caught each other’s gazes. He sang “The Captain of Her Heart,” watching her the whole time. It had given her chills. Afterward, she’d walked alone to the railing, and a moment later, he’d joined her. The rest was history.
History, she reminded herself. It was different now. This was only business and she was way over Dan.
“Don’t tell me you’re a contestant.” He walked to the closest edge of the boat and propped one foot on the side. “Or are you the prize for first place?”
She sputtered, but quickly contained herself. At least he hadn’t said the booby prize. “Hardly. Dan, I need your help. Hear me out before you say no.” She moved closer, catching the scent of the aftershave he used to wear, the scent she ended up wearing herself the rest of the day after they fell back into bed when their goodbye kiss turned into a you’re-not-going-anywhere kiss.
Back on track, woman!
“Okay, I work for an advertising agency, see, and this guy at work—he’s a real weenie—is trying to steal my account, well, it’s not my account yet, but they called me first, and now the weenie and my boss are saying I can’t handle this account because it’s a fishing tackle company, and what do I know about fishing tackle, which isn’t a lot actually, but I can learn, and I can’t let them get away with this, so please, Dan, will you let me tag along with you during the tournament, I promise I won’t bother you or scare away the fish or do anything to distract you, just observe and take notes, and possibly ask a few questions—”
He held up his hand. “You still do that.”
“Do what?”
“That—” he waved his hand in circles “—skimble-scamble thing that makes me crazy and leaves me with no argument because by the time you’re done, I can’t remember what you were even asking.”
“No, I don’t do that anymore. I just had a lot to say.” She felt herself grin sheepishly. “Did you say crazy?”
He regarded her for a moment, his mouth quirking. “Yeah, crazy.”
With a deep breath, she pulled another butter rum from her bag and petted Sammy who wanted to pop out. “I just wanted you to understand where I was coming from before you said no, and I hate to impose on you, but I don’t know any of these people, and I know you, so it would be really nice…” Her words drifted to a stop when he held up his hand. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? What’d you call it?”
He nodded, but he was smiling, which was a good sign, she supposed. “Skimble-scamble. One of Granny’s words. For one thing, I have a rule: No women allowed on my boat during tournaments.”
She waved away that concern. “But I’m not a woman; I’m your ex-wife.”
He chuckled, a low sexy sound that shivered right through her. “You’re definitely a woman. And the ex part’s the second thing.”
She tilted her head, remembering how that little gesture worked on getting her way before. “But we probably had one of the nicest divorces ever.”
“Heck, Cassie, we were only married for seven months.”
“And two days.”
“And,” he continued, shifting to sit on the transom, “You took my dog.”
Sammy yipped at that and popped out of the bag. He loved the word dog. She bit her lower lip. “This dog?”
He gave her a wry grin. “Yeah, that dog. The one you’re still putting ribbons on. And a bell? You’re going to give him a cross-dressing complex.”
Sammy’s tail wagged like a maniac as he struggled to get to Dan.
“(A) The bell helps me keep track of where he is so he doesn’t get stepped on. And (b) he’s secure enough in his masculinity to overcome the ribbons.”
His laugh was a sputter. “The only reason you got him in the divorce was because you convinced me he was too feminine a dog for a guy. You did that skimble-scamble thing and had me completely befuddled.”
She grinned. “Did anyone ever tell you how cute you look when you’re befuddled?”
He propped his chin on his upturned palm. “Since you’re the only one who’s ever befuddled me, I guess you’d know.”
Only her? Better not press. She scratched Sammy’s tiny head. “I got attached.”
His expression softened as his eyes took her in. So did I, they seemed to say, though she was sure she was imagining it. “I see you haven’t changed much,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“The ribbons and bells, coming out here…” The sounds of a boat engine punctuated his point.
She stiffened. “Don’t say that. I’ve changed a lot, Dan. For instance, (a) I’ve been in the same job for three years now (b) I’ve lived in the same place for four years and (c) I’m good at what I do. Coming to the docks was necessary for my career goals, and the ribbons…” She stroked the pink ribbon on Sammy’s head. Why did she still put ribbons on him? It started out as a joke. Maybe it was that latent femininity that liked to emerge once in a while, like the frilly underthings she bought. “He likes the ribbons. Really. He looks happier when I put a new one on him.” She tilted her head again. “What do you say, Dan? It’ll be just like old times for a little while.”
Like old times. Those words curled through her as he tilted his head the same way she was doing and contemplated. He glanced behind her at the dissipating chaos, then back at her. He still had the nicest eyes she’d ever seen, light brown with thick lashes, and that thin, two-inch scar that snaked horizontally along his right cheek. He still made her feel all gushy inside.
“You think it’s a good idea, you and me on this boat together, alone?” he asked.
“What, you think I’m going to jump your bones? Come on, I’m not falling for that again. It takes more than a look to get me into bed nowadays. You should have taken advantage of that when you had it.”
The teasing grin on his face grew wider. “As I recall, I did.”
She turned away, not wanting him to see the flush creep up her cheeks. The sex had been great. Not sex…lovemaking. She’d loved Dan, and there were odd moments when she thought a trace of that love still existed.
Okay, maybe this was impulsive. Maybe she was regressing. Follow-through, she reminded herself. She met Pam’s knowing look across the crowd. She could read Cassie like a tarot card, darn her. If Dan could get her flushed with a few feet of water between them, what would it be like to spend several hours alone with him? Still, she waved away Pam’s concern. Handling it just fine; no problem, she implied. They both knew she was lying and left it at that.
“All right,” he said at last, coming to his feet—feet clad in faded boat shoes, she noticed. “But if I’m going to help you, I want to know what’s in it for me.”
“For you?” She narrowed her eyes. Well, that was fair, she supposed. “What did you have in mind?”
He shrugged, making her realize how much his shoulders and chest had filled out, and very nicely indeed. He appraised her, running his gaze from head to toe. Just when she thought he might make a similar complimentary assessment, he said, “I don’t suppose you can filet fish very well.”
“No way, uh-uh. I am not touching fish guts.”
“Yeah, you’re not a fish-guts-kind-of gal.”
“Just what every girl wants to hear.”
He chuckled. “I’ve got a way about me, don’t I?”
Yes, he did. “Just don’t tell me I’m a bank and florist type,” she said.
“I was going to say you’re more of a deck-swabbing type. But I don’t have enough deck for you to swab.” She didn’t like the sparkle that lit his eyes. “Still know how to give those awesome massages?”
Her throat tightened, and she swallowed. “I haven’t given anyone a massage in years. Those classes were from my career-searching days. Before the singing telegrams and after the bartending job.”
He grinned. “Your singing made dogs howl, and your drinks knocked everyone on their butts, but you were a natural at massage. And you know what? It’s been years since anyone’s given me one, so we’re even.”
A massage. Oh, great.
“You have to keep your shorts on.” She remembered too well those massages. His naked body beneath her hands, running her hands down his back where it dipped down at his waist, across his tan line, and then up over those firm buns… “Definitely keep your shorts on.”
“It’s a deal.” He held out his hand. “Come on aboard, matey.”
She stared at his hand for a moment. “Just like that?”
“Hey, I’m easy.” A naughty grin lit his face. “Or don’t you recall?”
She blinked, trying to keep her mouth from falling open. “Easy? No, it must have slipped my memory.” Unfortunately, parts of her body did recall, and way too vividly. She crunched down on the remaining ring of candy and handed him her cooler and then her bag. Sammy jumped out to freedom, and Dan crouched down to pet him. “Samuel Kent, she’s turned you but good.” He scowled at the pink ribbon that held Sammy’s hair in a ponytail on his head. “Maybe I can liberate you.” Then he reached out his hand to her, and she clasped it. He pulled her easily over the two feet of water and the transom, but she landed off-balance as a boat’s wake lifted them.
“Oops!” she yelled as she pitched forward.
His arms went around her, anchoring her to his chest. Warmth rushed over her as he held her tight, their faces inches apart, her body plastered against his. He just held her there, looking at her without giving a clue as to what he was thinking. His body, however, was giving definite signals. And the heck of it was, she liked it. In fact, she wanted to burrow against him and make him even harder, like she had hundreds of times before. In those impulsive days when she’d simply jumped on him, no matter what he was doing, or what time of day it was…ahem, before she got responsible.
“You okay?” he asked.
She could only nod as she shooed away those pesky memories. “And you?” If only she could breathe, she’d be fine. She forced air in, then out.
“Oh, yeah. Still eating butter rums, I see,” he said.
“Still wearing Bracer aftershave, I see,” she said.
Another moment passed. Her breasts tingled where they pressed against him. Tingled? She shouldn’t be tingling around Dan! She abruptly moved back and dusted herself off, though there wasn’t any dust on her. He was casually pulling his shirt down over his shorts. When she turned to give Pam the signal, her friend was making the evil cross sign, drawing her finger across her throat, and rolling her eyes. Mouthing or something worse. Pooh, what did she know?
A bark brought their attention to a knee-high dog coming up from the cabin. His tail formed a curly-cue, and it wagged as he took in Sammy.
“You got another dog,” Cassie said, watching the dogs do their territorial sniffing ritual and feeling grateful for the diversion. “What is he?”
“One hundred percent pure, certified, pedigreed mutt.”
The dog was cloud white, with short hair and big brown eyes. A mutt. Perfect for Dan. “Did you name him after a fishing icon?” Samuel Kent was one of the greatest fishermen in history, according to Dan. But inside he was a Sammy, and he’d communicated that to her, just as he’d told her he liked his ribbons and bells.
“No.” He puffed his shoulders the slightest bit. “His name is Thor,” he said in a deep, throaty voice.
She couldn’t help but laugh as she scratched Thor’s soft fur. “Did it really bother you that much that I thought Sammy was too cute a dog for a guy?”
“Maybe I just like the name Thor.”
She held Thor’s chin in her hand, tilting her head as she looked into the dog’s eyes. “I hate to tell you this, Dan, but this dog has the heart of a poet.”
“Oh, no you don’t! He’s Thor, man’s best friend.”
She stroked the dog’s chin, nodding with conviction. “Thornton.”
“Thor.” Each time he said the dog’s name, his voice got deeper. His gaze had taken her in for a moment, but he shifted it to the dispersing crowd. “Okay, I’ll teach you about fishing, but there are a few rules you gotta follow.”
She rose, eyeing him warily. “No, I’m not going to be your anchor.”
He laughed. Laughed! She’d almost forgotten that laugh, robust and sudden, like a boy’s. It filled her with a swirling heat.
“Nothing as treacherous as that. First, none of that skimble-scamble. And none of that head-tilting thing either. In other words, no using your feminine willies.”
“Willies? I thought they were wiles.”
His mouth tilted up in a smile. “With you, they’re willies.” Before she could clarify that, he went on. “And no calling my dog Thornton.”
“Anything else, Captain McDermott?”
He lifted his chin. “Yeah, I like the sound of that. Call me that.”
“Oh, brother. Aye, aye, that.”
He leaned closer. “That’s Captain to you, matey.” She backed away. Someone yelled out Dan’s name, and he waved back. “We’re about to kick this thing off, and I get to fire the starting gun.”
“Why you?”
He leaned close again, as though he were going to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose but stopped himself just short of contact. “Because I’m the fishing god.”
3
MY, BUT THIS WAS an interesting turn of events, Dan thought as he listened to Cassie’s take-down of the weenie she worked with, including her evil thoughts about switching Ben-Gay for his Preparation H. She sat in the tall chair next to him, Sammy burrowed in her lap. Dan debated telling her the one tidbit that would spin things even more, and then decided against it. She kept talking about how she hated dishonesty, and unless he fessed up now, he was going to fall right into that category. Too late, he decided. She was bound to find out sooner or later that he owned Lure ’Em In Tackle Company. He’d instructed his sales and marketing manager to call her. He’d figured on showing up when Cassie was presenting her ideas and surprise her. Then he’d see if there were any sparks between them.
This was even better. Having her all to himself was a gift from God. The best part was he could already tell the sparks were there. He just hoped she realized it before she learned the truth. Otherwise, he was going to have a heck of a time convincing her they needed a second chance.
“And then my boss has the nerve to tell me I should be a gentleman after the sexist remark about florists and banks!” She threw her arms in the air, making a sound of exasperation that had Dan trying to hide a grin.
All the engines made it sound like a full-fledged invasion. He steered through the mass of boats wending their way to the open water of the Gulf. That’s when things really started, when lures would be cast and lines would glisten in the sun like spun silver, waiting for just the right fish to tug the line and take him to the limit. Who said fishing wasn’t romantic?
“The guy sounds like a jerk. In fact, they both do. Why even stay there?”
She fussed with the silly bow on Sammy’s head. “That’s my plan, putting in my time and learning my craft so I can eventually go out on my own.”
“You’re going to start your own business?”
“Yes. You know, the American dream and all. I have each stage mapped out, along with a timetable.” She pulled out a small notepad on a chain.
He shook his head. “You’re making lists? Miss Spur-of-the-moment.”
“Told you I was different. No more impulsiveness, no jumping into things without studying all the angles, and no more of that skimble-scamble thing. Well, not usually.” She pushed some of her hair away from her face, but the wind just washed it right back again. He remembered how soft her hair was, how it felt sliding through his fingers when they made love, or the way it tickled his skin as she laid kisses all over his body.
“Hair is fine—I mean, lists are fine, if you’re a list kind of person, I suppose.” He hated lists, duties, timetables. Hated Freudian slips, too. “I say jump in now and swim with the tide.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I see you haven’t changed.”
He caught a whiff of that butter rum candy she liked. He could never go past the candy aisle without thinking of Cassie. Or about kissing her and stealing her candy. The woman was like the candy, spicy and sweet at the same time. She’d swept in and out of his life like a damned hurricane, leaving behind several unfinished redecorating projects and an aftermath of memories and longings. He’d restored his apartment and picked up the memories, but the longings, they didn’t go away so easily. And, he noted, the wind was picking up. If he didn’t play this right, he’d end up a victim of Hurricane Cassie again.
What he wanted to know was, how different was she? Someplace deep inside him didn’t think she’d changed that much. Passion still blazed in those sea-green eyes, and he recalled that passion oh so well. And she still put bows on Sammy. And bells! Sheesh.
She held Sammy against her chest, presumably so he could see ahead. “I am in total control of my life now. Mistress of my destiny. Completely sensible. I can’t believe how flaky I was back when…well, when we were married.”
He decided not to mention the bows, bells or the way she held Sammy. “That’s what I liked about you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought life was one big adventure.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Do you realize how close I was to becoming my mother?” She shuddered. “You’d think after growing up living with whoever would have us, spending every holiday with a different man, getting the names of all her husbands mixed up, I’d have seen that I was headed in the same direction.” She raised her eyebrows. “Flaky as pie crust.”
He had met her mom on their wedding day. Andromeda had been living in New Orleans with a jazz musician, and she’d flown in for the wedding sporting her own diamond ring: husband number five.
“How many husbands have you had since…?” He couldn’t say the words our divorce.
“None! I’ve been sensible, levelheaded and analytical since…” Apparently, she couldn’t say it either; she referred to it with a wave. “Besides, I have everything I want, like (a) a good job, weenies notwithstanding; beneath that (a-1) goals for my future (b) nice apartment (c) good friends and (c-1) Sammy.”
“This a-b-c stuff—”
“Don’t forget (a-1) and (c-1).”
He blinked. “Right. This lettering thing…”
She smiled. “The new me.” Her gaze went to the ring finger on his left hand, real casual-like. “How about you? Any wives?”
“Not a one.” His fingers flexed involuntarily
“Anyone…serious?”
“Nope. Three months is as long as I could stay interested.” For some reason that seemed to bum her out. “How is your mom, by the way?”
“The same,” she said on a sigh. “Working on husband number eight, no doubt. And your granny?”
“The same, cantankerous old broad you knew.”
Cassie smiled. “The only woman I’ve ever known who called herself a broad.”
“You could say she hasn’t gotten you out of her mind,” he said, wondering if he weren’t possibly talking about himself, too. “She named her cat after you.”
Her mouth quirked. “Well, I guess that’s better than naming, say, a pet pig after me.”
“She named the pig Hal.”
“How appropriate,” she muttered.
“Says she’s too old to remember names, so she names all her pets after people she knows. She named her prairie pup after me.” The sun was beginning to glisten on the wavelets. A seagull bobbing in the water took flight as they approached, squawking its protest. “That tabby’s got your feminine willies. She rubs against my legs and curls up in my lap, and makes that same little meowing noise you made when you—”
“Coughed up hair balls!” she interrupted. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“I, uh, don’t quite recall you coughing up hair balls, Cass.”
She turned away and murmured, “I tried to keep it to myself.”
Interesting that she didn’t want to discuss anything relating to sexual bliss. “I see.”
“Well, good for you. Now stop seeing and look where you’re going, will you?” A few minutes later, she nodded at Dave’s boat nearby, dotted with beauties already trying to grab sun in their colored strips some might call bathing suits. “So, you really have a rule about no women on the boat during a tournament?”
“One of my few rules in life.” He glanced at her. “Too distracting.” Though he’d hesitated on letting her aboard strictly for show.
“I’m not distracting.” The women gave Dan cute little finger-wagging waves. He returned the wave, wondering if they realized he was mocking their cutesiness. He glanced at Cassie, in her cotton shirt and shorts that came down to her knees.
She followed his gaze. “See, nothing distracting here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You forget I know what you look like naked.”
“Dan, puh-leez!” She fiddled with the notepad.
She thought he was kidding. He shook his head, focusing again on the parade of boats all around him. The problem was, he remembered way too well. She used to have a hang-up about her legs being too skinny, but he couldn’t find one fault, not a single one. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way she went nuts when he kissed the spot behind her ears. Shoot. The wind was definitely picking up.
“Did you bring a bikini?”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “Dan, I didn’t come along to be your bow ornament. I came to learn about fishing lures.”
He laughed, which strangely enough made her grin. “Bow ornament, huh? Yeah, that about sums them up.”
“I’m surprised you don’t have one or two yourself.”
“They’re for the boys who come out here to play. Thor’s my only ornament. He’s a lot easier to maintain.”
“You sound like Hal. I always wondered if you’d end up like him.”
At first he focused on the fact that she’d wondered about him. Then the disappointment in her face forced the rest of the sentence into his mind. “I’m not like Hal.” Except for the beer drinking, the fishing every spare moment, the perpetual bachelorhood. Well, at least he had been married once.
Why was it when he looked at her mouth, he thought of all the times he’d kissed it? When he looked at her body, he remembered the way she’d fling herself into his arms or hop on his back and wrap her legs around his waist, just for the heck of it. He’d loved that, loved her spontaneity. And he could hardly wait for that massage, even if, when she learned he owned the tackle company, she was likely to be pretty ticked.
“So, besides tournaments, what do you do with yourself?” she asked.
“A little of this and that, organizing tournaments or entering them.”
“Oh. So how does this work? This whole tournament thing, I mean.”
“We all have to stay within a certain area. This is a catch-and-release tournament, meaning we register the fish with the judge, and then he tags and sets them free. At the end, the totals are added and the trophies and prize monies are given out.”
“And Lure ’Em In sponsors the tournament.”
“Yep. So, of course, everyone uses their lures, and each contestant gets two with his or her entry. And a nifty T-shirt.” He nodded to a plastic bag on the bench.
Cassie pulled out the shirt featuring the Domino. “From what I could tell of Roger’s notes, their new one is the Big Bopper,” she said, folding the T-shirt and looking in the bag. “It’s not one of these.”
“They haven’t released it yet. Everyone’s pretty excited about it.”
“They are?”
He laughed at her disbelief that anyone could get excited over fishing lures. “This lure’s supposed to have some intriguing features, like a special kind of wiggle that’s sure to lure the fish in.” He winked at her. “Women aren’t the only intriguing things with wiggles, you know.”
“I’m ignoring you,” she said in a singsong voice. She turned the lure package around, studying it. The Domino, not surprisingly, was white with black polka dots sprinkled on top. “Sure to lure…do you use Lure ’Em’s lures?”
“The question is, who doesn’t?” He shrugged. “At least in this area. It’s a regional phenomenon. They say the guy who started the company knows more about the way a fish thinks than even a fish.”
“Oh, brother. Hey, wait a minute. Who uses the Big Bopper? The question is, who doesn’t? Sure to Lure. Hmm.”
“Do I get a cut if you use my words?”
“I’ll buy you a year’s supply of worms if I win the campaign.”
“Worms. How thoughtful.” But she was madly scribbling down notes. “Why’s it so important to you, Cass?”
She met his gaze. “I want to prove to myself that I can stick with something, not walk away without a fight.” Something bittersweet flashed in her eyes. “I’ve left too many things unfinished.”
He watched her sink into her thoughts. Was she thinking about their unfinished business? He hadn’t made any plans when they got married, enjoying living and loving by the seats of their pants. But he had planned on staying married to her for a long, long time. Before he knew it, they’d soared, plummeted, crashed and burned before he’d even learned to fly the damned plane.
Had he changed enough to make it work this time? Or had she changed too much to even try?
UNFINISHED BUSINESS. The words echoed in Cassie’s thoughts after she and Dan lapsed into silence. One minute they were crazy in love—and just plain crazy—and the next, they were married. Admit it. You were a flake. You ran away in a full-blown panic.
Her compatibility list would ensure that never happened again. She rubbed her notepad as though it were a magic amulet.
Sammy huddled in the tote bag. She had to admit the bows and bells were a little flaky, but she couldn’t seem to eradicate that last flake. She picked him up and leaned against the helm again. Thornton braced himself in the walkway between the two seats, his head up and lips flapping in the wind. He and Dan had similar poses—well, except for the flapping lips, thank goodness—and she found herself smiling at them. She’d looked into Dan’s eyes: he had the heart of a poet, too.
“Thornton likes being out on the boat,” she said.
“Thor,” he corrected in that deep voice. “Sammy did, too, until you sissified him.”
“Oh, pooh, I did not. Dogs aren’t trapped in the macho male syndrome like men are.”
Sammy barked, and his bell jingled.
“Oh, is that what we are? I was wondering what it was. Goodie, I can break out my pink bows.”
“You’re just jealous of Sammy’s ability to express his feminine side without compromising his male values. He has no qualms about his maleness, despite the lack of, er, certain male appendages. But you, on the other hand, feel that expressing your feminine side would expose your vulnerabilities and lessen your manhood, which is obviously in question.”
He just looked at her for a minute, his mouth slightly agape. He slapped his hand over that mouth. “You’re already making me crazy again.”
“I’ve got an extra bow if you’d like to try expressing yourself.”
“An extra…?” His laugh sounded strangled. “My hair’s too short.”
His hair was still thick, no longer than the base of his neck, and was now rakishly ruffled by the wind. He turned Bob Marley and the Wailers up a little louder. He always did like that tropical music, and she always thought of Dan when she heard it.
She grinned. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about your hair.”
He made a choking sound, but quickly regrouped. “I can arrange that.”
“I challenge you to take that first step in exploring your feminine side by yourself.”
He stared at her, slapped his forehead, and returned to his driving. She was making him crazy. And for one crazy moment, she wanted to be that impulsive woman she’d been with him. She tamped down the pitty-pat of her heart. Bad idea! Very bad idea!
A boat named The Bimini Twist whizzed past, sending a cacophony of catcalls with Dan’s name attached and something about a fishing goddess. He veered off to the right, taking Gordon Pass out to the Gulf. With a flush, she realized those men thought she was Dan’s bow ornament.
“What was that about a fishing goddess?” she asked.
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