Dan All Over Again: Dan All Over Again / The Mountie Steals A Wife. Barbara DunlopЧитать онлайн книгу.
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