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

“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?”