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

He removed his sunglasses and blinked. “Cassie?”

“The one and only.”

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.”