Mesmerizing Stranger

“It’s the cold waters. Cold and clean.”

“Nah. It’s Cate. Everything she touches is just…to die for.”

Her fork clattered to the table. Everyone looked at her, clearly expecting her to make a perky comment. In a blink, she realized that’s how this was going to have to be. Her making smart remarks, taking care not to look at Harm, keeping up a sassy conversation with them all. Acting like normal, because if she did otherwise, the thief/killer could be alerted. It’s just…she wasn’t used to lying.

She’d never been able to tolerate liars or lying, in fact.

“You want to know the truth,” she responded to Arthur’s compliment, “I didn’t think this particular meal was up to par. If you guys’ll bring me more fresh salmon, I promise I’ll give you a dinner you’ll never forget.”

“Aw, Cate. You mean we’ll have to fish again?” Purdue gave a mock groan, and the rest laughed. They’d had a good time fishing. Or acted as if they had.

She served vanilla honey-bee ice cream, heaped with sharp sprinkles of dark chocolate and butterscotch, but by then, she couldn’t eat a thing herself. When she put the dish down for Harm, she almost put a hand on his shoulder-just wanting the connection, needing a connection. But she pulled back in time, disappeared into the galley where she could be by herself. Safe from doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong thing.

Safe from being herself.

Harm stuck tight with his men after dinner, so once Cate shined up the galley, she disappeared downstairs to her cabin, e-mailed her sisters, rinsed out some things, took a shower. She’d turn in early, she decided.

That worked like trying to make meringue with old eggs.

She got up at midnight, grumpily scooped up blankets and a tarp, and tiptoed down the aisle, then up deck. Nothing stirred. The water slop-slurped against the boat, and outside was colder than a well digger’s ankle-but the sky was putting on a breathtaking color show, shooting silvers and purples and jeweled colors in flashes of smoke. She was diverted momentarily, watching, until she heard a sound in the pilothouse.

She whirled around-but the pilothouse was dark, locked up for the night, a pale glow of instruments reflecting on the walls but nothing else visible. She was just spooked, which was the whole reason she couldn’t sleep to begin with. Toting her gear, shivering hard now, she climbed the last set of steps to the top deck.

There was no Harm here tonight-or anyone else. She told herself she was crazy to feel safer out in the open than locked in her cabin, but it wasn’t that simple. There were too many men between her and an exit. And when it came down to it, the only one who’d have any reason to think she’d be way up here was Harm.

She settled down, and maybe it was the stress, but she curled up tight and felt herself dropping off to sleep almost right away.

She never heard a footstep on the stair, never heard a breath of sound. Never felt anything or sensed anything until she suddenly felt a big, heavy push. Next thing she knew, her eyes flew open and she was hurtling over the side.

Blankets were too tangled around her to get her arms free, to grab for something, anything. Something hard cracked the back of her skull…then her hip thunked, ringing hard…and then everything went black.

Harm didn’t know what he’d heard, but he hadn’t been sleeping…and whatever that thunk-thud was, the sound was discordant in the still night. His eyes popped open. He waited, but there was no other sound.

Still. It was wrong-particularly right now, when any discordant sound made him worry about another catastrophe-so he climbed from the bunk and yanked on sweats and deck shoes. Silently, he opened the cabin door and waited for several beats, trying to smell or see or sense anything that was out of the ordinary.

There was nothing. Telling himself he was being an idiot for being so hyper, he trudged upstairs, grumbled through the main salon, then the dining room, then poked in Cate’s galley. Nothing wrong anywhere-except in his head.

He circled outside, stepped up to the pilothouse, checked the door-it was locked, naturally, the instrument panel lit up as it should be. Nothing unusual, nothing out of place. Since he’d come this far, he circled the foredeck, thinking maybe Cate had chosen to sleep topside again…but near the ladder, he suddenly saw the rumpled shadow on the deck.

He caught a single glimpse of blond hair tilted over the side, under the rail, and hurtled into a sprint. He skidded, almost fell-damn deck was slick-crashed on a knee as he got to her.

“Cate. Cate.” She’d been sleeping top deck, just as he’d guessed, which was easy to assess from the mound of blankets and covers-and which, thank God, cushioned her fall. Still, her white face and closed eyes scared the starch out of him. He wasn’t sure if or where she might be broken, but he had to shift her to a less precarious position. As swiftly as he could secure her in a safer spot on the deck, he felt the pulse at her throat.

Her heartbeat barely registered, but then suddenly beat like a drum against his fingers…at the same time her eyes opened. “Hey,” she murmured, a lover’s word the way she said it…only then she winced. “Ouch. What the-?”

“Shhh. Shhh. Don’t move at all until we figure out what’s going on. Just tell me where you hurt.”

Her eyes closed for a second, scaring him halfway to death and back again, but then she came through with a list of specific damages. “Head. Hip. Pride.”

He wanted to smile at the “pride,” but he couldn’t. Carefully, tenderly, he ran his fingers through the scarecrow-blond curls, found a spot that felt warm and damp, with a good-size lump underneath it. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to move you.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not moving me. I’m moving myself. For darn sure, I’m not staying here. Damn.” She tried to push to a sitting position, and immediately fell back dizzily.

“You think you were born stubborn as a goat, or was it an acquired character trait? I’m serious about your not moving yet. You could have a concussion, Cate.”

“Then I’ll have a concussion inside, where it’s nice and warm. Besides, my head’s too hard to have a concussion. Trust me. Harm-”

“What?”

“Did you see who pushed me?”

He frowned. “You fell.”

“I didn’t fall. I was pushed-yikes!”

She was so tangled in blankets that she almost fell again…but this time fell against him. He was still reeling from the idea of someone deliberately pushing her when she crashed against him with an oomph and another cry of pain.

And that was it. No question she was gonna hate it-but he took charge.

Chapter 7

Cate couldn’t have passed out because she wasn’t some fluttery wimp who went around fainting. But when she opened her eyes, she seemed to be in Harm’s stateroom, flat on his bed, with his blankets snuggled to her neck. Harm was leaning over her with a warm washcloth.

“Did I take a little nap?” she asked bewilderedly.

“Let’s put it this way. If you hadn’t conked out, I’d have had to hit you over the head with a frying pan. My God, you’re trouble.”

“I think something like a frying pan did hit me on the head. Holy kamoly, do I ever have a headache…” She tried to sit up and failed.

“I’m almost done. The wound’s clean. I’m going to put on some antibiotic first-aid cream and cover it up, and then we’ll put ice on it. Then we’ll check out the rest of you.”

“Hmm. I haven’t played doctor since I was somewhere around five or six.”

“I never gave it up. It was always one of my favorite games. Especially with girls.”

“I never played it with girls.”

“That’s why you probably gave it up. Playing with girls is fun.”

“Why in God’s name are we joking around?”

“Because,” he said, “I almost had a heart attack when I saw you on the deck. And I’m trying to get past that so