Mesmerizing Stranger Page 4

“Yeah, it was,” Cate agreed, in that clear-bell voice of hers. “We had no family who could take us in, so the court took over, split us up. We were fostered three different places. It was bad enough to lose both parents, but then we were ripped from each other, as well. At least we all had decent caregivers, and we wrote each other-but we had to be grown-up before we found a way to actually see each other again. Still, we e-mail each other a couple times a week.”

  “Do you at least live close by?” Harm asked.

  “No. Nowhere near. But we’ve built up a pattern of going back home-our original home, in Georgia-at Christmastime. Although this year that might change because Sophie, the youngest, just tied the knot a few months ago. I suspect we’ll use her home base now.”

  “But you must have a home yourself,” Harm persisted. “Somewhere you hang your hat.”

  There. For all her flirting and obviously being very, very comfortable around men, their eyes locked. He’d felt the same spark of ignition before. Something flashed in her eyes-as if the testosterone in the room hadn’t bothered her a single iota. Until she looked at him and he looked back.

  “I pay rent in a place in New Orleans. That’s where I learned to cook, where I stayed the longest as an adult. So that’s where I set up an address, a place to get the bills, store stuff. But basically, I’m as footloose as you can get. Have job, will travel. And love it.”

  Arthur and Fiske both focused attention on her now, although Fiske was the one who spoke up. “You don’t want a home? You’re a beautiful girl. You’re not thinking about a husband, babies?”

  “Sure. But as you guys can tell, I generally get my share of offers.”

  “Picky,” Ivan said, with a cock of his captain’s hat.

  “Very,” Cate agreed, and then, smooth as silk, diverted the conversation away from her again. “Fiske, I can tell I’m going to have to make a fresh batch of peppermint cookies just for you tomorrow.”

  Harm’s oldest in command was reaching for the cookie dish-again. “It’s not my fault, Cate. I’ve never tasted anything like these before. Can’t keep my hands off them.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” With a grin, Cate stood up. “Just want to tell you all now-breakfast tomorrow will be Ebelskivers.”

  “What? What on earth is that?”

  But she just chuckled. “My secret. Trust me, though, it’ll be worth getting up for. In the meantime…I’m going to go clean up my galley and get out of your hair. You can all start drinking and swearing and being pains in the keisters to your heart’s content. Glasses and beverages are here…” She motioned the side door of the fancy breakfront, which opened to reveal an ice chest. “Leave any dishes right here. I’ll deal with them in the morning. If y’all plan to walk around naked belowdecks, just so you know, I’ve seen it all before.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to walk around naked, too, Cate?” Yale called after her.

  “Are you kidding? I don’t like to scare men or wild animals. You can count on me to be covered.”

  And she was gone, just like that-giving them all a view of her baggy pants and wild hair. Damn woman was as agile as a wood sprite, Harm thought. Full of herself, full of zest.

  And every single guy tracked her as intensely as he did. Ivan watched her like a bird of prey. He’d gotten quieter with every drink. And his second in command, the grandfatherly Hans, was the next one to turn in and call it a night.

  Harm wanted to. He stayed, though, waiting to see how his team related after Cate left. No surprise, their smiles faded out. Ivan stood up, groaned, wished everyone a good-night. Still, none of Harm’s men budged. Eventually, a deck of cards emerged on the table. Someone-Purdue?-started up a game of hearts.

  Usually, a card game was good for a lot of groans and moans and competition, but Harm could see what was going on. No one wanted to be the one to leave. No one wanted to either look guilty or miss what anyone else said. Suspicion and worry were eating them all up from the inside out.

  For fifteen minutes, Harm listened to the silent snap of cards, the increasing grim silence in the room, and finally spoke up. “You all look like zombies, and I’m just as tired. So I’m guessing you’re all still sitting here because someone has something they want to say.”

  It was tall, white-haired Arthur who spoke up, the one who never made waves, never invited confrontation if there was a prayer of avoiding it. “We all know there’s a thief, Harm. We all know it has to be one of us.”

  Purdue pushed back his chair. “And we all want to know what you’re going to do about it. It’s driving us crazy. Not knowing where we stand with our jobs, with the company, with our reputations. With not knowing what’s going to happen.”

  Yale, who could be counted on arguing with Purdue on whether the sky was blue, actually nodded. “We can’t keep on this way. None of us can leave. We’ve all got too much at stake. But nobody can think with this cloud over our heads, much less imagine working together again.”

  Harm waited for Fiske to take a turn, but his financial officer waved off the chance. So Harm took the floor.

  “What we’re going to do-what I’m going to do-is figure out where the money is. Figure out who did it. And then put the lab together. My uncle built an outstanding team-but I believe we can make it even better. You’re each uniquely brilliant. One of you got sidetracked. Not all. Just one.”

  Purdue said, “Okay, so that’s what you want to do. But how are you going to do it? All of us feel it. That we’re under a cloud of suspicion.”

  “Because you are-but I didn’t put that cloud there,” Harm said. “The thief did. And I’ll tell you this. In the next ten days I’ll know who it is.”

  They believed him. God knew why, but Harm saw the trust and reassurance in their faces. It seemed the right time to close down shop, and the group followed him below deck, all of them yawning and expressing exhaustion.

  Harm was well aware that one in the group was a fantastic liar and unpredictably dangerous. But his main worry-his real crisis of a worry-was that the group was counting on him. The whole company-not even counting their cure for pancreatic cancer-would go down if he couldn’t.

  And once Harm got that in his head, he couldn’t sleep. He tried to. Heaven knew he was beyond exhausted, and his cabin was as comfortable as a luxury hotel. The steady lap of water outside was soothing, hypnotic-or it would be for anyone without so many problems preying on his mind.

  A couple of hours later, cranky and disgusted, he yanked on sweats and made his way topside. He just…wandered. He’d forgotten-or hadn’t known-that it was never going to be midnight-dark in the summer here. The sky wasn’t daylight-bright, more the dusky, pearl hues of a late twilight. The salon and dining areas were gloomy with shadows, only the gleam of occasional brass relieving the dimness. Outside, the air was crisp, the pilothouse as deserted and silent as the rest of the deck.

  Harm kept ambling, seeking to find the highest spot on the boat so he could see the Alaskan night from the highest vantage point. Beside the pilothouse was another set of steps, leading to a small top deck. He climbed up, exploring, not looking for anything beyond a quiet spot with a view. He found the view…but he also found a five-foot-long lump of blankets already up there.

  Initially, he assumed the dark bundle of blankets was just a cover for some kind of storage-until he stepped closer and saw a white oval in the middle of all those covers. A face. A pixie face with a gleam of annoyed blue eyes staring back at him.

  “Do me a favor and don’t tell on me.”

  A minute ago, Harm would have sworn nothing could have aroused his sense of humor. “Hmm. I sense blackmail potential. What exactly am I not supposed to tell on you?”

  “I’m not supposed to sleep up here. No one is. And the last thing I want the captain to notice is that I’m not where I’m supposed to be at night.”

  Since this was getting more interesting-and for damn sure, more distracting than a fistful of problems-Harm hunkered down on his haunches. “I
suspect Ivan would be happier than a kid in a candy store to discover you were up here alone.”

  “Yeah, there’s that issue, too.” She sighed. “This is the thing. I’m pretty seriously claustrophobic. Have been ever since going through that fire when I was a kid. None of my sisters can stand feeling trapped or locked in either, but I seem to have it the worst.” She paused. “On the other hand, I’m not the only one wandering around in the middle of the night. So what’s your excuse?”

  “My excuse is that I seem to have given up sleeping. To add insult to injury, the less sleep I have, the stupider I get. So that’s pissed me off even more.”

  “Ah, I’ll run for the hills then. I wouldn’t want to risk pissing off a hotsy-totsy corporate magnate.”

  “I’m not a corporate magnate.”

  “Well, you’re certainly crabby, whatever label you want to call yourself.”

  His gaze narrowed with interest. “So why aren’t you running away?”

  “You think I should?”

  “Everybody else does.” It was her own doing that he ended up beside her. He could have stayed in that hunched position indefinitely. She was the one who lifted the blankets and unrolled a few extra feet of tarp. The tarp had obviously protected her from the damp deck, which she was willing to extend to him, as well.

  Her kindness was definitely appreciated, because damn, it was cold up there. Only being half-prone next to her immediately provoked the idea of kissing her.

  That idea had been growing on him since, oh, around a second after laying eyes on her. It’d be funny if it weren’t so incomprehensible. Inheriting the business had sliced his sex drive in half-or that’s what he’d been trying to tell himself. Since his uncle had died, he’d been hurling himself around the country nonstop, thrown into legal and ethical situations that just kept getting deeper and darker, so obviously, there’d been no time to meet a woman or form a relationship. Harm had rationalized for some time that all the stress had obliterated his sexual needs.

  Looking at Cate forced him to recognize that need was alive and clamoring-noisy. And the more he felt the nearness of her, the more he realized that need hadn’t been satisfied in a long, long time.

  “You don’t take nonsense from anyone, do you?” he asked curiously.

  “Sure I do. Everybody does.”

  But he didn’t. And he’d long wearied of people who took it from him. From school to the military, to the business crisis he was in now, people had always deferred to him. Always expected him to find answers, to come through. To not show weakness. Cate had challenged him from the start. It was refreshing…but yeah, a little unnerving. And rather than think about that unwanted sexual tug, he started a conversation. “What was your impression? Of my guys, the team at dinner?”

  She leaned up on one elbow. “When you told me what the situation was, I specifically set the table with good crystal, the white tablecloth. Probably sounds silly to you…but I’ve always found that atmosphere affects behavior. I also think having strangers around your group-like me and Ivan and Hans-probably brought out more manners in your guys. People always behave better around strangers. Likewise, if you give boys mud and water, they’ll end up getting dirty. Put on the crystal, and they’ll tend to be more polite, to get along.”

  He said, “I don’t know about the crystal. But you sure did something because you got them talking.”

  “Not real talking. Just polite talking. I was hoping the atmosphere would help you figure out the crux of the problem.”

  “Who my thief is.”

  She frowned. “Where the poison in your company is,” she corrected him. “Same thing.”

  “I don’t think so. The person who stole the formula not only stole the formula. He betrayed the team, hurt the other players-financially and job-wise-and is doing a pretty effective job of tearing down the company. Your uncle had lofty goals. So did they. The one who ripped that open took away some serious big dreams and goals, as well.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this,” he said slowly.

  “Not really. I don’t know anything. It’s just…an interesting problem. If the person did this right after your uncle died, then your uncle’s death must have provided them with an opportunity. Access. But I don’t get at all why someone would have done this. I’d think your whole team would have made a lot of money if that drug came through. So there’d have been no reason to steal. And then you described this group working as a team for quite some time. Working together, hoping together. So he was willing to tear apart the team, his friends, for some reason that I sure can’t imagine. I think you’ve got a guy on your hands who’s really, really angry. Angry about something that means a lot more than money to him.”

  He absorbed what she’d said. He’d had no one to share the puzzle pieces with before-except for the P.I. company he’d hired, but they didn’t know enough about science to evaluate the possibilities for the how and why of a formula theft. Harm already knew he’d likely have to figure this out himself.

  Cate, though, had different perceptions than he did. And he found himself staring into those soft, liquid eyes. He was taken with her spirit, with her zest, with her fearlessness. But he was also concerned about letting her any closer-to him, to his men, to his problems. He didn’t want her exposed to danger.

  He wasn’t positive she’d recognize danger if it bit her on the tush, which was possibly what prompted his change of subject. “Ivan give you any serious trouble?”

  Instead of an answer, she smiled. “I’m not the kind of woman who needs protecting, Harm.”

  And then-proving irrevocably that she needed serious protecting-she reached over and kissed him.

  Nothing much shocked Harm, not anymore, but this sudden streak of lightning startled him completely. A dank, chill night turned sultry out of nowhere. Her lips were soft and warm and sassy. Her skinny body gave off more eclectic tension, more edgy hormones, than an invitation from any woman he could remember. Ever.

  She lifted her mouth moments later, opened her eyes, looked straight at him. If she was shaken, it didn’t show.

  “What was that for?” he asked, as if she hadn’t just rocked his sanity.

  “You’re not really interested in me. I’m not really interested in you. But it’s been there, that little…sizzle. So I figured it’d be a good idea if we got it out of the way so we could both quit wondering about it.”

  He almost denied that “wondering,” but there seemed no point in lying.

  “So you think that settled the issue?”

  “That was the idea. To settle it. I didn’t want it to be a problem for you. Or me.”

  Clearly, she didn’t know him well enough to realize that he was morally, ethically and emotionally incapable of turning down a dare.

  She was damned right. He wasn’t interested in her. Didn’t think for a second that she was interested in him. She was just…full of herself. And since she wanted to get something straight, he figured he’d better get something straight, too. Kittens shouldn’t risk playing with cougars.

  So that’s why he kissed her. More or less because she’d kissed him, because…

  Aw, hell. He forgot the reason the moment his lips sank against hers, and she sank back, back into that nest of warm blankets. Apparently, she liked playing with dynamite, because those light, lithe arms skidded up his shoulders, scooped around his neck.

  He looked for caution. Brains. Fear. Nobody home there… All he found was naked curiosity and tantalizing interest and her returning his kisses as if she was determined to pile more tinder on an already thriving fire.

  Her lips felt softer than a cushion. The taste of her was exotic and different and alluring. She made a sound, as if she’d found a new flavor of chocolate she liked. Opened her lips, invited his tongue. Damn woman.

  She arched her flat chest against him, pushed up a knee in a gut response to that kick of lethal hormones. It wasn’t need bubbling up, Harm told himself. He didn’t acknowledge need, didn’t hav
e time for need. That was something a man overcame to achieve what he wanted in life. So it couldn’t be need.

  He was just…curious. That was all.

  Unwillingly, his eyes closed. It was her fault, her witchery, because her arms seemed to wrap him up in a place that wasn’t cold or damp or needled with problems. For two seconds, he forgot about huge stakes and betrayal and embezzlement. He forgot about the women he’d failed in the past, the ones who’d failed him right back.

  He forgot his own name.

  She sipped and sucked. He tasted and teased right back. He rolled her on top of him, creating a tangle of blankets that he found some way to push aside. He had to get a grip on her. He had to run his hands down that lithe, skinny body, to see where on earth all that evocative, provocative power was coming from.

  Only then…he found out. When he stroked down her spine, she parted her legs, rubbed against him. He turned into rock. He hadn’t had a chance to turn into solid rock in a very long time.

  He skimmed his hands back up, stroking the same bones and soft flesh, into that messy short hair. She made those soft, appreciative murmurs again, as if she’d like him for brunch. Dinner. Breakfast. An all-day meal.

  And abruptly, he rolled her on her back again and shifted away from her. This was insanity. It just couldn’t be happening. He never lost his head, not with a woman and not in life, ever.

  And there she was, panting a little breathlessly-as he was, damn it. But her eyelids slowly opened, and there was a moment of stillness. Then her gaze narrowed and her body tensed. He didn’t know what she saw in his expression, but it was obviously something that made her wary.

  She said, “You get away with that once. Because that’s probably what you do. Establish that you’re the alpha wolf, no matter who you’re with or what you’re doing. But I don’t do wolves, and I don’t give a hoot about power. So don’t you kiss me again unless…”

  “Unless?”

  “Unless you plain old want to. No agendas, nothing to gain, nothing to win, no power thing. Just wanting.” In a real frump now, she coiled to her feet and gathered up a messy scoop of blankets. “Damn it, Harm. Now you’ve forced me into going below deck to sleep in that claustrophobic cabin.”