Dan All Over Again: Dan All Over Again / The Mountie Steals A Wife. Barbara Dunlop

the cost of his pride, couldn’t help but grin at the thought of being hooked in the rear, and then her efforts at bandaging him.

      The woman was an enigma to be sure. At least he’d kept her from reading that magazine. If she’d read the article about the young upstart who’d founded a tackle company, it’d be all over. He was sure honesty was (a), (b) or even (b-1) on that damn list of hers and he wasn’t ready to be honest yet.

      She was sitting on the bench along the back, her legs tucked beneath her, going over her notes and lists. So, she’d become Miss Organization. She reached over and primped Sammy’s hair, and he caught himself smiling. There was a part of her, though, that defied logic, scoffed at sensibility and went with her impulses. That was the part he’d fallen in love with, the part that affected his impulses as well as getting them into marital bliss before they’d had time to pick the china pattern.

      Hurricane Cassie was back, sweeping through his insides and flooding his cautions. Even if she was trying to be something she wasn’t: sensible. She still had feminine willies, that was for sure. He stretched, catching her glance up at the movement with a glint of appreciation in her eyes. Geez, when had he last felt so alive? Standing half-naked in the cabin with her, he’d been more than tempted to take her in his arms.

      Out of the corner of his eye he saw her glance at him again. He shifted so she couldn’t see his traitorous organ standing to get her attention. The damned thing would have jumped up and down waving if it could.

      After she had swept back out of his life, he’d been devastated not only by her loss, but by his failure at keeping her. For a long time he sought ways to prove to himself he wasn’t a failure, including winning every fishing tournament he entered, then starting his own business. He didn’t consider his current love life a failure; he dated whom he wanted and broke it off when he wanted. But the damned of it was, none of those women left behind the gut-wrenching feeling of loss Cassie had.

      Here they were again, and it felt the same as when they’d first met. The chemistry was still there, and so, for him, was the desire to make her his. Was the old Cassie really gone? He’d never get this new Cassie-with-her-lists to fall for him again.

      “Aw, isn’t he cute?” she said.

      “Oh, no, now what do you have Sammy doing?”

      She giggled. “It’s not Sammy.”

      Thor was snuggled into Cassie’s big tote bag, his head the only part of him sticking out. He perked one of his floppy ears at Dan’s frown, then looked at Cassie.

      “You’ve corrupted my dog! Thor, come here, boy!”

      Thor reluctantly pulled himself from the bag—and jumped right into Cassie’s lap.

      Dan slapped his forehead. “Oh, no.” In less than five seconds, Thor was on his back, legs skyward as Cassie rubbed his tummy. For a moment, Dan was jealous of his dog. “Thor! Stop being a wuss!”

      Thor’s big brown eyes shifted to Dan, then back to Cassie. He wasn’t going anywhere. Another Mc-Dermott male falling prey to Cassie’s feminine willies.

      DAN NUDGED THE BOAT a few feet closer to the island a while later. He had put on a white cap, which offset the masculinity of his broad, tan shoulders. And made him look cuter than all get-out. Cassie had the overwhelming urge to hook him right in his tantalizing butt and reel him over.

      Tsk, tsk, those impulses again. She’d had such a good rein over them until Dan came along. She overcame the insanity and aimed for the dark water beneath the mangrove branches where he said the fish liked to hide. On her third cast, she felt something jerk her line in a big way.

      “Dan!” she whispered, trying to remember the fishing lingo. “I’ve got a hit!”

      He seated his rod and came over. The line went taut, and then her rod bent. She held on tight, determined to put up a fight and see it through.

      “Just start reeling him in, nice and slow.”

      Her heart was pumping as she fought the fish. It jumped out of the water with a horrific splash, bringing shouts of excitement from some of the nearby fishermen. A gaping yellow mouth thrashed in the water, and she caught a glimpse of teeth. Even the dogs, who had jumped up on the side to see what the commotion was about, jumped back to the deck.

      “What is it, a piranha?”

      “I doubt that.” He leaned over the edge of the boat. “Holy schmoly, Cassie, I think you got yourself a gator trout.”

      His excitement was contagious, and she fought even harder. “Is that good?”

      “It’s excellent, and it’s also dinner.”

      “Cool!”

      Dan hovered just behind her, but let her reel in the fish. “Atta girl,” he’d say. Or “Great job, Cass.”

      Those words were as gratifying as catching the fish. Finally the scaly devil gave in, and she reeled it up to the boat. She was determined to land the bugger on her own. With his words of praise singing through her veins, she used all her strength to jerk her rod upward.

      The toothy fish sailed gracefully through the air, catching the sunlight as it…headed right at her!

      “Eek!” She ducked, but the fish’s tail caught her in the cheek. She batted it away, and the fish batted her back. “Yuck!”

      If Dan didn’t have such a wonderful laugh, she might have been agitated. Instead, she laughed with him.

      He removed the hook with a pair of pliers and put it in the scale. “Damn, Cassie, you caught yourself an eight-pound trout.”

      “Is that good?” she asked, coming up behind him. She could already tell it was by the tone in his voice. Why his pleasure gave her a thrill was beyond her. After all, it was just her ex-husband, just a fish.

      “It’s great,” he said, though he wasn’t looking at the fish. “You’re giving me a case of fish envy.” He tossed the trout in the live well and flopped down beside her, landing a little too close for comfort. “So, you still sleep in the nude?”

      And there went the rest of her comfort. “Pardon?”

      “Since we’re going to be sharing close quarters tonight, I wanted to know what I was getting myself into. Er, so to speak.”

      She stood, already getting too much of close quarters and not liking his wicked gleam at all. “What are you talking about? I’m not sleeping on this boat.”

      “You going to hang over the side all night like a bait bucket?”

      “No, you’re going to take me back to the docks tonight.”

      He stretched out on the bench and propped his feet on the back of the transom. “I thought you knew the tournament was all weekend.”

      “Yeah, but I figured you went back at night.”

      “Nope, it’s a marathon tournament. We’re on the boat all weekend. Just you, me, the dogs…” He nodded toward the bin. “And your trout.”

      Sammy barked, and Thor jumped in, too.

      “No way, uh-uh.” She started pacing. “You’ve got to take me back. It’s not that far.”

      “No can do, Cass. No one’s allowed to leave the vicinity.”

      “I don’t have any clothes. Just my bathing suit underneath this.”

      He was smiling, his hands behind his head. “I don’t hear a good reason to take you back yet.”

      “Dan!” She threw down her hands in frustration. “I have no toothpaste, no food. I’m not prepared to spend two days on a boat.”

      “Then you should have read the brochure more closely, Miss Prepared-with-her-lists. It said right in the rules that contestants are required to stay on their boats the whole weekend. It’s part of the fun. And