at his fingers pressing into her forearm. “Do you mind?”
He released her instantly. “Beg your pardon, ma’am. Thought you were someone else.”
His voice held the faint twang of Texas, and his courteous reply was almost as unnerving as his pouncing on her. Surreptitiously, she massaged her wrist. “Ah, that’s all right. I shouldn’t have startled you.”
“And I must be losing my touch. There was a time…” Grimacing, he dragged off his sunglasses. From his perch on the edge of the hammock, they were on eye level, and he speared her with a predator’s tawny, golden-eyed gaze. “Something I can do for you, Miss Sarah Ann Dempsey?”
She drew a dizzy breath and knew she’d been right to be wary of those eyes. Yellow-brown, with a hint of copper ringing the irises, they seemed to see right down to the desperate center of her. Somehow she knew he was a man ruthless enough to use any advantage. Tongue-tied, she watched his patience wane.
“Ma’am?”
She pulled her scattered thoughts together with an effort. “Uh, you’re the one they call The Captain, aren’t you?”
Something in his expression closed down, and he scowled. “Beulah’s been running her mouth, I see.”
“No, that is—” She swallowed and tried again. “It’s general knowledge.”
“I’m retired,” he said, his voice flat. “Just plain Gabe Thornton now.”
Retired. From the military, without doubt. She found that encouraging. A man accustomed to giving and following orders, someone with the discipline to carry out instructions to the letter. Just what she needed. If he would hear her out.
“I understand that under certain circumstances you might be available.” He lifted one sandy eyebrow in an unspoken question that caused her to stumble over her words. “For certain kinds of work, I mean.”
He surged to his feet, and the hammock flapped, the sound raucous and harsh in the still afternoon. His expression was hooded, his eyes the color of melted caramel. “Ma’am, I fly choppers. That’s all. You got a hankering to tour the Everglades?”
Squinting up at him against the brightness, she realized she’d been right about his height, for she barely came to his shoulder. It was all she could do not to take another step back. Instead, she shook her head, tried to smile, tried to remember this was all for Gramps.
“Nothing so spectacular. Just…a temporary assignment. I’ll make it worth your while.”
She regretted the innuendo in her words instantly, for he gave her another once-over, and his skeptical expression made her face heat with humiliation. Dammit, she knew she wasn’t Cleopatra, knew she didn’t possess a single quality that would turn a man’s head, but she wasn’t offering him that!
He cocked one lean hip and ran an absent hand through the damp bramble on his chest. Overhead, the palm fronds clattered. “What just exactly are you saying, ma’am?”
“Will you stop doing that?” she exploded.
“What?”
Shoving back the tendrils that had escaped her ponytail, she glared at him. “Ma’am-ing me to death! I’m not your sainted mother.”
Incredibly, his lips twitched. “No, ma’am.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. Damn him, he wasn’t making this easy! She gritted her teeth. “I’m trying to make you a business proposition, if you’ll only listen!”
His look was sardonic. “You’ve got my attention.”
“Look, I’ve heard that you and your friends do…er, unusual work from time to time and I thought, that is…” She groaned in distress and buried her face in her hands.
A large hand cupped her shoulder, and his tone, though tinged with impatience, was almost kind. “Spit it out, honey.”
Lifting her head, she forced herself to say it. “I need a husband. Will you marry me?”
She didn’t look crazy.
But then, what did insane look like? Gabe wondered. Surely he would never have guessed it would be this bundle of female nerves currently gazing up at him as if he were the wrath of God Himself.
There wasn’t much to her, either, except for a wealth of wavy raven black hair escaping from a childish ponytail. She was petite and too slender for his tastes, save the unexpected fullness of womanly breasts pressing against her simple cotton shirt. Her milky skin would never capture the usual Florida tan, and her features were even but insignificant, with the exception of her eyes, round and a blue that was almost violet. And she certainly wasn’t any kind of sophisticate. Her hands were work worn, her nails short and practical. In any other setting, he’d have said she was as normal as the day was long.
No, she didn’t look the type to propose to a total stranger, but what the hell did he know about such mysterious, unfathomable creatures as women? For the first time in a long and distinguished career, former Army Ranger Captain Gabriel Thornton could think of nothing to say. And Miss Sarah Ann Dempsey was waiting for an answer.
“Uh, ma’am—”
“Sarah. My name is Sarah Ann.”
“Sarah.” Frowning, he searched her face. “Uh, how long have you been out in the sun today?”
Frustration pleated her brow. “You don’t understand.”
“Damn straight I don’t.” He was coming out of his stupor, amazement and annoyance building to anger.
It was true he and his former commando partners, Mike Hennesey and Rafe Okee, were more or less free-lance troubleshooters these days and based their services out of the Angel’s Landing Marina, so her roundabout talk of special circumstances and unusual assignments had sounded legitimate at first. After all, even tired old soldiers who’d found a home of sorts needed to earn a living. And they still had the special skills and training to do it on their own terms.
It was also true that he was punchy from a two-day-andnight charter flight carting biologists around the Big Cypress Preserve in search of some exotic endangered snail. It might not be quite as exciting as invading small subtropical countries, but he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime, and besides, it paid the bills.
So all he’d wanted was a little peace and quiet and some downtime in his favorite hammock. Certainly the last thing he needed was a madwoman flinging marriage proposals at him.
“Lady, I don’t know what your game is—”
“I’m perfectly serious!”
“—but I’m not buying,” he said, his voice a growl of warning. “You want a lover? Find a gigolo. A baby? Try the local sperm bank. In the meantime, I think you’d best sashay your fanny right off my property.”
She blinked, taken aback, then burst out laughing.
Gabe was certain he was dealing with a lunatic now. Hysterical,
