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

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Pam said, taking in the men carting fishing gear and cases of beer.

“It’s the only idea I have. Besides—”

“I know, I know, you’re no quitter. I’ll bet that’s your bedtime mantra.”

“So what if it is?” Cassie lifted her chin. “It’s better than living your life on the wind.”

“Have you heard from Andromeda lately, speaking of?”

Cassie laughed. “Last I heard, she was living on a boat with some young scuba diving instructor down in the Dry Tortugas.” Her mother had legally changed her name from Bernadette to Andromeda, after the wife of Perseus. Oddly enough, she’d named her daughter after Cassiopeia, Andromeda’s mother.

Cassie tucked her curls over her ears and leaned in the car. “Come on, Sammy. Hope you’re up for a day on the boat.” She scooped her Yorkshire Terrier into her large bag. His little bell jingled pleasantly as he settled in. “I wonder if he remembers when Dan and I used to take him out on the boat.” She nudged away the annoying softness in her voice. “You liked that, didn’t you, boy?” She touched her nose to Sammy’s little wet one, then tapped him down into the bag. “Stay hidden. Don’t want to turn off any potential boaters.”

“And speaking of that, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing shorts.”

“I decided to take my chances.” She glanced down at her skinny legs. “Men, be afraid. Be very afraid,” she intoned, making Pam giggle. “All right, let’s go fishing for a fisherman.”

Once they walked through the entrance, they found the tournament sign-in area. So had fifty other men who were standing in line, not to mention many others milling around. Voices and laughter rivaled footsteps echoing on the wood planks of the pier. Everyone was trading jokes and patting backs, all that manly kind of thing. She tried to dredge up all that fury she’d felt yesterday to stave off the nervousness.

“Having second thoughts?”

Cassie lifted her chin. “No way, uh-uh.” They both knew she was lying and left it at that. She popped a butter rum in her mouth and slipped her hand in the bag to scratch Sammy’s head.

“You are nervous, aren’t you?” Pam said a few minutes later.

“Why?” She peered over the rim of her sunglasses. “I’m making noises, aren’t I?”

“Sucking furiously on those things is a dead giveaway.”

Cassie anchored the candy ring against the roof of her mouth and scanned the boats, the crowds and the fishing poles spearing the air.

Pam leaned closer. “It occurs to me that despite your claims of sensibility, this whole thing is extremely impulsive. Might I remind you of the last time you did something really impulsive and what trouble that got you into. And I’m not talking about the limbo contest that sent you to the chiropractor. Or dyeing your hair black. Or…”

Cassie’s gaze skipped to the next boat, and that’s when she saw him. “Dan,” she said on a breath.

“Exactly. Look at these men. You don’t even know them. Once they have you alone on their boat, they could take you out to the horizon and ravage you and…good heavens, why are you smiling?”

Dan McDermott, with his brown hair lit reddish by the sun, white T-shirt moving in the breeze and muscular, tan legs. Her canvas tote dropped to the wooden planks, and she leaned to the side when Pam darted in front of her so as not to let Dan out of her view for a second. She even heard bells! A couple of men stopped to talk to him, and Dan ran his fingers through his hair and laughed. Lordy, when had he gotten so gorgeous?

She blindly reached for Pam’s arm, unable to utter anything other than a sound vaguely resembling a whimper. She tried again to reach Pam, and then had to wrench her gaze away to find that Pam wasn’t even standing there. Then she remembered Pam darting in front of her, and as her gaze sought Dan again she felt annoyed that her friend wasn’t there when Cassie really, really needed to verify that she wasn’t imagining Dan, that he was really there, that—

“Good grief, woman, didn’t you notice that you dropped your tote bag and your little fuzzball led me on a merry chase between twenty pairs of hairy legs?”

Cassie blinked, taking in a breathless Pam holding a panting Sammy. So that’s where the bells came from! She opened her mouth, but her voice still wasn’t cooperating. Dan was waving goodbye to the men and resuming whatever it was he was doing that required him to bend over and show off that cute little butt of his.

“Hello-o-o?” Pam waved her hand in front of Cassie’s face. “What are you grinning like a she-devil for?”

Was she grinning? She couldn’t even feel her face, just her heart pounding louder than a rock and roll drummer. It’s only Dan, she tried to tell herself, that guy you were married to, but some other part of her was making her feel the way she had the first time she’d ever laid eyes on him. “I wasn’t grinning, I was looking…pleasantly surprised, yeah, that’s all, because Dan’s here, you remember Dan, don’t you, the guy I was married to, who fished and would stumble around in the dark naked so he wouldn’t wake me up, which was so sweet, but he always whispered that he loved me right before he left, and of course he had clothes on then—”

Pam grabbed Cassie’s arm and gave it a good shake. “Get a grip, girl! Listen to yourself.”

Her mouth was watering around the candy. “I wasn’t sucking.”

“No, you were talking nonstop. You’ve worked hard to squash that impulsive, vivacious Cassie, and here she is trying to take over again!”

“I wasn’t rambling. I just had a lot to say. And I was surprised.” She’d worked so hard on getting rid of that going-on-and-on thing. “I never thought about him being here. I haven’t seen him since our divorce. Oh, I have a great idea!”

“You’re going to ask Dan if you can ride with him.”

“I’m going to ask Dan if I can ride with him. It’ll be perfect!”

“Now that would be impulsive, and a bad idea. A bad idea, indeed.”

“Not at all, since (a) I know him (b) I trust him (c) he was my favorite mistake, after all. Therefore, (d) it’s perfectly sensible.”

“Honey, there isn’t anything sensible about the way you’re looking at that man.”

There wasn’t anything sensible about the way she felt, either, all giddy and silly. “I’m just glad to see him, that’s all,” she said in her most sensible voice.

“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.”