him a spot in the buns-of-steel calendar. Add in his hundred-dollar smile and masterful air, and Katherine was surprised women hadn’t started throwing their lingerie at him.
She was pretty sure Al Sanders was a con artist down on his luck, and she wanted him gone before he caused any trouble. The fact that he unsettled her and she couldn’t put her finger on why only added fuel to the fire.
It would have been much easier to kick his incredible derriere off the island if he hadn’t sold helium balloons and skipped dinner to sell cotton candy, she realized.
Remembering his injured head, she felt guilty. She motioned for him to sit and offered him some packaged bologna sandwiches and a soda. Maybe if she fed him, she wouldn’t feel so bad about sending him off.
“How’s your head?”
“Fine.”
But he looked a little green. She set some aspirin in front of him.
“Thank you.”
Katherine took a deep breath and sat in her uncle’s worn captain’s chair behind the old walnut desk. Her least favorite thing in the world was firing people. And although technically, she’d never hired Al, the process was still the same. Her palms were sweating.
She thought of how her uncle would handle this situation, pretended she was six feet tall instead of five foot three, and tried to forget that she was much more comfortable teaching first graders than managing this camping resort.
“Al, I appreciate how you’ve pitched in today. And I’ll be glad to pay you for your services,” she began, and twined her fingers together.
“That’s unnecessary. I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night.” Al glanced down at the sandwich. “This meat is unusual. It’s very good.”
Katherine blinked. “It’s bologna.”
He looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to remember that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You have an accent. Are you from England?”
“I’ve spent some time there.”
“Do you have a green card?” she asked, hoping for an easy out.
He stiffened. “I don’t need a green card.”
His manner was so cold and affronted, she had to resist the urge to apologize. Such pride, she thought. It was surpassed only by his confidence. She’d always resented tall, confident people.
Katherine tried the direct approach. “The next ferry leaves at ten o’clock. We’re booked for the night, but there are some nice hotels on the mainland.”
“You have a room available in your cabin. Chad tells me you’re short-staffed and this is the busy season. I’d like to work for room and board until the end of the month.”
Katherine mentally cursed her half brother and picked up a pencil. “Al, you arrived here last night, drunk and passed out. I don’t really see how I can hire you on that basis.”
“I arrived here passed out because I happened into a bottle of whiskey aimed for your brother’s head. I was not drunk.”
He stood and dropped the paper napkin into the trash. Then he looked directly at her. “Have you been unhappy with my performance today?”
Katherine leaned back in her chair. “Well, no.”
“Are you short-staffed?”
She resisted the urge to squirm. “Yes.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Take me on a trial basis.”
Her chest squeezed tight. What woman wouldn’t take him? He was the kind of man women made fools of themselves over. If she had erotic dreams, he would be the kind of lover she’d dream of. His hands would be slow and sure, his mouth both giving and ruthless, his voice low and urgent. She shivered.
“Trial basis,” she repeated weakly.
“Yes.” He glanced away from her, suddenly appearing tired. “I’m rather…”
“…down on your luck at the moment,” she supplied for him.
His dark eyes held wry, weary amusement. “So, you’re not only beautiful, you’re also perceptive.” He bent over the desk and took her fidgeting hand. “What have you got to lose?”
Katherine’s cheeks heated at the feeling of her hand enveloped within his larger one. Beautiful? Lord, he’s good, she thought. She pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.
She couldn’t say what tipped the scales in his favor. Maybe it was the fact that he’d worked so hard this afternoon. It might have been that she wondered if she’d misjudged him. What if he wasn’t a con man and needed help? Katherine was sensitive to unfairness, having taken too many cheap shots from the tabloids over her ex-husband’s affairs.
But what really affected her was the way his posture screamed confidence while his eyes revealed flashes of something deeper and more human.
“One week’s trial,” she finally said, and watched him relax slightly.
“You won’t regret it.”
Katherine gave a grim smile and prayed.
Katherine awoke to darkness and the sound of someone scratching on her window screen. After a moment of terror she recognized old Mr. Larson’s husky voice. He wanted to borrow fishing lures from her uncle and had forgotten Jasper was gone for the summer. Katherine promised to find them, and Mr. Larson said he’d be back in twenty minutes.
Pushing her hair from her face, she crept from her room to the hall closet. She shined the flashlight up the shelves to the top one and sighed. There sat the tackle box.
She tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed a bar stool. After positioning it in front of the closet, she climbed on top and reached for the box.
“What are you doing?” a low voice said behind her.
Startled, Katherine gave a muffled squeak. The bar stool shifted. She panicked until the stool was steadied and a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
She took deep breaths to calm her racing heart. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“That’s what I asked you,” Al said. “Do you know what time it is?”
“No. And please don’t tell me. I’ve got to get fishing lures for Mr. Larson. He and Uncle Jasper always go fishing together this time of year.” She moaned. “They’d leave about four o’clock in the morning.”
“You’re close. It’s actually—”
“I said don’t tell me.”
His chuckle rumbled pleasantly out of the darkness. His arm felt warm around her. She’d rested her hand on it and could feel his flexed muscles. Her back absorbed the sensation of his hard chest pressed against her. His musky male scent
