Dan All Over Again: Dan All Over Again / The Mountie Steals A Wife

He leaned closer. “I think you want to see if making love with me would still be as hot as it used to be.”

She pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him away. “You’re a few clowns short of a circus, too.” His bare skin was warm beneath her touch, not to mention solid as a mountain.

His mouth twitched, but he removed his cap and leaned closer yet. Just as Sammy started to jump up, Dan put his hand over his head. Dan’s nose nearly touched hers, and that hint of aftershave mixed with his own scent. “I think you’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

“You’re surfing in Nebraska, buddy boy!” she said, pushing him back, getting to her feet and sending dogs sprawling everywhere. She took a deep breath of salty air, realizing she’d had her hands on him a few times already. Needles of sensation prickled through her, and she took another breath to clear them. “And you’re one feather shy of a whole duck to boot.”

He had an infuriatingly smug grin on his face. “Then why are you running away from me?”

“Puh-leeze!” She pulled a butter rum from her tote bag. “You were crowding my zone.”

“If I’m wrong, prove it. What’s the big deal about spending the night on the boat with me?”

“There is no big deal.” She put her hand over her mouth when she heard the sucking noises.

“Got a date? Boyfriend who might get jealous?”

She wanted to tell him yes, a big, strapping attorney or corporate tycoon or someone completely opposite from Dan. But the word, “No,” leaked out instead.

“Then?”

“Fine, as long as you have something I can sleep in.”

Ooh, the look that came over his face. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

And he said she had feminine willies! He had the male version. She wasn’t going to admit she couldn’t handle spending the night with him, because it wasn’t true. Okay, there was a spark, a…something. But not some irresistible force. Dan was…well, Dan. The guy who fished all the time with no goals or game plan—like she used to be.

“Pam’s coming by to pick me up. I need to let her know I won’t be back tonight.”

He pulled out a cellular phone from another compartment and tossed it to her. “Be my guest. I’m going to catch me some fish.”

She left a chagrined message on Pam’s machine, then turned to find Dan casting from the back of the boat. His muscles moved and flexed beneath his tan skin, and his cute little derriere wiggled as he reeled in his lure. Cocky son of a gun. She was going to show him. If he had any notions of a fling to, uh, refresh her memory, he had something else coming. No, he had nothing coming!

And all this talk of coming…not a good idea. No way, uh-uh.

6

AS DAN SENT THE LURE OUT over the water again, he glanced over at Cassie. She was sitting there with Samuel in her lap, Thor curled up at her feet. Her little notepad sat next to her, its chain draped over her ankle. Was that where she kept that compatibility list of hers? The criterion she would use to stay married to the next man. The next man who would hold her at night, warm his mouth with her kisses, nibble that place behind her ear and hear that little meowing sound she made…

Why did that bug him so much? If she’d had such a list back when they’d dated, she probably wouldn’t have married him in the first place. And despite everything about the divorce, even losing Samuel Kent, he wouldn’t trade those days for anything.

Cassie picked up the notepad. Oh, no, more notes. He’d no doubt added several more criterion to her compatibility list, things her perfect male couldn’t have.

But she put the pad in her tote bag, pulled out a tube of sunblock and started slathering it on her shoulders and face. He watched her fingers slide over her skin and the way the sun glistened over the slick areas. The breeze lifted the hair from her shoulders as she tilted her neck to rub lotion down the length of it. That reminded Dan of the massage to come.

When she was finished, he rolled his shoulders and asked, “How about putting some of that on my shoulders?”

“I don’t suppose this would count as the massage, would it?” she asked, coming over.

“Babe, you’re surfing in Nebraska if you think I’m letting you out of that one.”

“You’re a hard man, Daniel McDermott.” She closed her eyes. “Oh, brother, did I walk into that one. Okay, go ahead. Give it to me. I mean, say whatever it is you’re going to say about being hard. I know you want to. Let’s have it.”

He could only stare at her. “You lost me after you asked me to go ahead, give it to you, and knowing I want to, much less letting you have it.”

Her face flushed red. “You have a dirty mind. Now turn around.”

“Me? My mind’s as pure as the Hudson River. You’re the one assessing my hardness, not to mention the string of invitations afterward.”

“Augh! They were not invitations.”

“Were, too.”

“Were not! Just because you have sex on the brain, so like a typical male, you think every word out of my mouth is some kind of invitation, but let me tell you, buster, I have no intention of falling for your charms or innuendoes…”

Blah blah blah. He wasn’t sure he could use her skimble-scamble against her, so he tuned out her words and concentrated on those soft, sweet lips of hers. The way they moved around her words, the way the bottom edge of her top teeth showed once in a while, and every so often the tip of her tongue would peek out to tantalize—

“Dan? Are you listening to me?”

She ducked down to the level of his eyes. Well, at least he wasn’t gazing at her chest. “Of course I am. I was paying quite a bit of attention to your mouth—I mean, the words coming out of your mouth.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I ought to…”

“You’ve already thrown me off my boat and hooked me in my butt. What else can you do?”

“Maybe I should throw you off your boat again. The guys seemed to enjoy that.”

He pressed the tip of his finger to her collarbone. “You are not throwing me off my boat again, understand?”

He didn’t like the devilish grin on her face as she saluted. “Aye, aye, captain. Now turn around.”

He closed his eyes the moment her hands made contact. The lotion was cool on his hot skin, and it smelled light and airy. Her touch was soft and slow as she swirled the lotion on his shoulders. When she reached up to his neck, he felt goose bumps rise all over his body, accompanied by an involuntary sound coming from his throat.

“Remember when you used to rub my back when we went grocery shopping together?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“And when I made spaghetti sauce, I’d be at the stove and you’d just come up behind me and start doing what you’re doing now?”

“Yeah.”

She sounded noncommittal, so he added, “You couldn’t keep your hands off me, could you?”

And then he felt a big glob of lotion slide down his spine.

“Oops.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I did admit to being flaky back then, didn’t I?”

He squirmed as the lotion dripped lower. “I think I liked you better when you were flaky.” He could have sworn more lotion dripped down into his shorts.