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  He spluttered, coughing up water as a coil of fear wrapped around his heart. He’d seen this kind of thing before, while in the Forces. Drowning people’s instincts to fight for their survival made them dangerous to their rescuers, but watching it happen during a training exercise and being on the verge of adding to a real-world statistic were two entirely different beasts. He had to get her to go still. Just as he’d thought it, she kneed him hard in the stomach, sending him underwater again.

  Theo’s coil of fear turned to full blown panic. His pulse beat loud and fast in his ears. Holy shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were only ten feet from safety, but he couldn’t get her to stop dragging him under so he could catch his breath and swim. Forget that she’d set his business on fire, if she didn’t calm down, she was going to kill them both.

  Time to get a grip. Adrenaline might’ve made her abnormally strong, but it made him stronger, too. He focused on his anger at her for setting fire to the landing, gathering conviction and power from it. His panic subsided until all he could think about was how pissed off he was at this stranger for further mucking up one of the worst days of his life and how determined he was to get them both out of the water before hypothermia set in.

  He only had one idea how to get her to comply—what he’d seen done during that ill-fated training session—and he didn’t like it any more than his plan to tackle her into the canal. But he couldn’t think of any other alternatives. “I’m sorry,” he bellowed.

  Then he wound his hand back and popped her in the nose with his open palm, hoping the pain would startle her into releasing him. It did.

  Ignoring her shocked, horrified expression, he pushed away until he was out of range of her grabbing arms. The plan was to swim around behind her and take hold of her in a locked position that prevented her from pulling on or kicking him. The problem was, she’d started to sink.

  “Come on, Lady. Tread water, damn it. You can do this.”

  Either she was too far gone in her panic to function or she didn’t know how to swim. Either way, Theo kicked his legs as hard as he could, pumping his arms, and was behind her as the top of her brown hair disappeared in the darkening water.

  Locking one arm around her chest, under her arms, he hoisted her head above the surface. She gasped and spluttered, but didn’t fight him as vigorously as before. After a few bracing breaths through jittery teeth, he growled with the burn and exertion of stretching his free arm out and kicking his freezing legs, then swam them toward the nearest dock by the sheer strength of his will.

  When they reached the dock, his limbs were too weak and numb to push her onto it with the weight of her water-saturated clothes. Lanette was only a few feet farther and had a ladder she could pull herself up on. “Let’s get to that ladder. Hang on to the dock while you move.”

  He tried to coax her along, but she remained anchored in place, trembling and clinging to the wood.

  “We’re running out of time. We need to get out of here.”

  “You threw me in the water,” she said between labored breaths. “You almost killed me.”

  This, coming from the person who set his business and herself on fire. “Yeah, well, at least I’m not an arsonist.”

  Her face crumpled with the beginning of a sob. “I hate water.”

  “I kinda do, too, right now.” He muscled her along with his shoulder and body until they made it to the boat. “Almost done. Climb the ladder.”

  “I can’t let go.” Her white knuckles gripped the wooden edge of the dock and her face contorted with a silent sob. “Too much water.”

  Theo’s patience was failing along with his ability to feel his legs and arms. “If you hate water so much, then how about you do yourself a favor and get out of it?”

  “I can’t.”

  What was up with this lady? It was hard to tell whether she had some kind of death wish or suffered from a certifiable insanity. Maybe she was just having an unlucky day, like him.

  No, he couldn’t let sympathy creep into his consciousness now. He cupped her cheek with his hand, forcing her focus on him. “Look at me.” He waited for her to steady her gaze on his eyes. “I’m getting out of the water, whether or not you decide to. This is your last chance for my help. Understood?”

  He never would’ve left her in the water alone, but his cold-addled brain wasn’t thinking all that creatively at the moment and threatening her with abandonment was the only idea he could come up with.

  Mashing her quivering lips together, she nodded.

  “Good.” He grabbed her hand and set it on the bottom rung of the ladder. “Go. Hurry.”

  Shouts accompanied the thud of boots over the dock as three Bomb Squad players leapt over Lanette’s side, took hold of the woman’s arms, and hoisted her up, then Theo.

  His body wouldn’t stop shaking violently, but his mind was still sharp enough to know they both needed to get out of their wet clothes and warmed up immediately. As he strode to the woman, he stripped off his Henley shirt, then undershirt, barking orders to the men to go inside and grab the blankets and quilt off his bed.

  “Get undressed,” he commanded her as he kicked his work boots off.

  She was young and full-hipped, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. Their gazes met and held. She didn’t look scared or dazed anymore, as she had in the water. She was fuming. Drenched to the bone and fuming. Her nostrils flared and her eyes glinted with sharp anger. “You threw me in the w-w-water. Then you h-hit me.”

  He huffed, exasperated. There was no way he was going to apologize for that again. He’d never hit a woman before and never would again unless lives depended on it, but he wasn’t going to stand there and take flack from a crazy, death-wish-flaunting arsonist. “I did what I had to do.”

  “I was g-g-going to die.”

  Rolling his eyes, Theo shoved his jeans to his ankles and stepped out of them. He wasn’t any warmer standing in wet boxer briefs in the cold air, but he wanted to be ready for the blanket when they brought it back. “No, you weren’t. I wouldn’t have let you.”

  He opened and closed his fingers, trying to get more blood moving through them so he could work on the buttons of her coat. He couldn’t do it. Reaching into his discarded pants, he found his pocket knife. Gripping it tightly to keep the trembling to a minimum, he worked the knife under each button. They gave way handily to the sharp blade. The woman didn’t help at all. She merely stood there, shaking, while he yanked off the coat.

  A blanket fell over Theo’s shoulders. He pulled it more securely around him, then peeled away his wet briefs and kicked them aside. Mona Flemmings, a local, stepped forward holding the quilt from his bed. She and Theo finished stripping the young brunette down to her pink bra and leopard print underwear. He grabbed the quilt, then wrapped it over her head and around her shoulders.

  Only after she was bundled up did he lift the fabric to inspect her backside for a burn. Her skin was a ghostly shade of pale blue, but she bore no burn marks. Just a perfect, rounded ass clad in wet leopard print satin panties. He swallowed, fighting the unwanted relief that was threatening to blossom at the proof she hadn’t sustained any serious, lasting injuries.

  He was about to let the blanket flap down when she smacked him on the head. “What are you doing?”

  He stood, utterly bewildered by her nerve. “Staring at your ass. Get over it. Also, making sure you can’t escape to a hospital before I get some answers.”

  She opened her mouth, probably to say something else offensive, but her words were cut off by a full body shiver.

  “Another blanket,” he called. One appeared at his side. He flung it around her lower body so that it brushed the ground and covered her feet.

  “Inside—now.”

  She didn’t move. He should’ve expected that, being that she was the most stubborn, infuriating person he’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. Maybe even worse than Lowell Whitley.

  “Mona, help her to the couch.” Clucking like a mother hen, Mona drew the woman into an embrace and shuffled her into the cabin of the boat.

  Before ducking through the low door after them, Theo braced himself for the worst, then looked at the landing’s sales office. The sun had set and in the fading light he couldn’t see any sign of a fire. A large crowd had gathered, not standing around gawking, but working to help. That was another thing he loved about Destiny Falls. Though a fire engine hadn’t yet arrived, multiple small hoses were aimed at the building. Men and women were calling orders and getting the job done.

  With any luck, water damage would be his biggest problem. Water damage and dealing with Whitley’s insurance company and creditors. His gut twisted at the thought. He’d have to worry about that tomorrow—after he restored the young woman’s warmth, then figured out who she was and why she’d broken into the landing and set it on fire.

  Mona sat next to the young woman on the narrow, boathouse-size couch, hugging her, presumably to share her body heat.

  “Wh-where’s my baby?” she spluttered, pulling the quilt more tightly around her still shaking body.

  Theo had read somewhere that the fastest way to raise body temperature was to get naked with another person, but the idea of going skin-to-skin with the woman who’d tried to burn his business down, even if she was a looker, wasn’t going to fly with him.

  In what he hoped was a safe enough compromise, he wedged in close to her on the couch, close enough that their legs and arms rested against each other’s through the blankets.

  “My friend Brandon has your baby. You can trust him. I’m sure he’ll be here soon to give her back to you.” He was surprised by the strength of his words since his body was painfully tingling back to life.

  She nodded, then wiggled toward Mona, pinning him with
a fiery gaze. “I can’t believe you did that to me. All of it. I hate water.”

  No shit, she did. But that was beside the point. “You. Were. On. Fire.”

  “He saved your life,” Mona added.

  Theo froze. He held his breath. Mona had no idea the Pandora’s box she’d opened, so he couldn’t blame her for her indignity on his behalf, but if that little arsonist dared thank him for saving her, or even looked at him like she thought he was heroic in any way, he’d have to leave the boat.

  Gratitude was something he refused to tolerate. Especially gratitude of the life-saving variety. He’d fielded enough of that garbage to last several lifetimes.

  He cringed, awaiting her response.

  The woman whipped her head in Mona’s direction, her long, wet hair lashing Theo’s face. “I was getting ready to stop and roll, like they teach you in school, when he shoved me overboard. And even if I’d gotten burned, it would’ve been better than drowning again.”

  Okay. Wow. Theo wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Judging by Mona’s expression, neither was she.

  Outside, sirens wailed in approach. Brandon and Harper pushed through the crowd gathering near the cabin door. In Harper’s arms was a crying, struggling baby. The woman’s fierce features softened at the sight of her child. With a strangled sound of joy, she lifted her arms to receive her. The blanket slipped off her shoulders as she pulled the baby near.

  Theo couldn’t help taking notice of the shape of her shoulder and the way the tops of her ample breasts quivered above the wet satin bra with her every inhale and exhale. Then he saw Brandon noticing, too, and he figured that neither of them had any business noticing such things.

  He tugged the blanket into place. She didn’t seem to care, as busy as she was cooing at the baby, who looked older than an infant, now that Theo had time to really look at the girl. Maybe a year or a little less, if he had to guess, though he wasn’t around kids enough to be able to gauge their ages with any accuracy.

  He wasn’t crazy about the idea of her getting arrested and separated from her child, but she should’ve thought of that before her mini crime spree.

  “Why did you break in and start a fire at Cloud Nine?” he blurted, anxious to get on with the interrogation before the police arrived and took over.

  “I didn’t break in. I walked through the front door. How was I supposed to know the fireplace didn’t work?”

  The fireplace hadn’t worked in years. Theo could’ve fixed it if he’d wanted to, but Whitley hadn’t been willing to pony up the money for repairs, and Theo didn’t give a damn whether or not the fireplace was functional. “You’re avoiding my question. Why did you start a fire?”

  “I was cold and I couldn’t find a thermostat to start the central heating.”

  The thermostat was in the back bathroom, one of the many indecipherable quirks of the hundred-year-old building. “So you let yourself into my business, decided, ‘What the hell, I’ll make myself at home’ and lit the gas for the fireplace?” It was too preposterous to believe.

  “That’s exactly what happened—except for one point.”

  “Do enlighten me. Please.”

  “It’s not your business. It’s mine.”

  “Come again?” Brandon and Theo said at the same time.

  Her eyes scanned the crowd of people who were hanging on their every word, as though realizing for the first time that there were more people than she and Theo in the room. She boosted the baby higher in her arms and cleared her throat. “My name is Allison Whitley, and I’m the new owner.”

  Chapter Four

  Two hundred pounds of irate male flesh prowled the landing’s tiny kitchen in the early morning hours, taking up every square inch of space and oxygen. One thing was clear—Theoren Lacroix was too hulking and volatile to ever belong in an enclosed space of any kind, much less this teensy kitchen.

  Allison stood on the opposite side of the two-seater table in the center of the room, tapping her foot and watching him with a mixture of annoyance and desperation. Annoyance because he was throwing a bona fide tantrum about her being his new boss, and because he’d simultaneously saved her from burning and nearly drowned her. And annoyance at herself for setting the damn fire in the first place. That was definitely not the first impression she’d been hoping to make as the new business owner in town.

  Desperation because he was clearly so angry at the idea of working for her that he might walk away, which would be the worst possible outcome she could think of. Lowell told her that the company only had two employees: a manager who also acted as the mechanic, and a secretary. If Theoren left, how would she ever figure out how to run the business? Who would teach the tourists renting their boats how to operate them, the secretary? Lowell said she wasn’t good for much of anything except answering the phone, and nobody in their right mind would rent a boat from someone who was filled with terror at the idea of setting foot on one.

  Yeah. Maybe she hadn’t thought this plan out as much as she’d believed she had. Too late now. She’d reminded herself of that grim fact enough times that the words were starting to be her mantra.

  Actually, as of a few hours ago, she had a new mantra. Don’t think about it.

  She could live with the aggravation and desperation that Theoren evoked in her, as long as it kept her from the other thought threatening to take precedence in her mind—that thought being about how he’d looked wearing nothing but a pair of sopping wet boxer shorts, as he had been a few short hours earlier on the deck of his houseboat.

  Nope. Because she was his boss and that would be totally inappropriate.

  He paced to the sink and paused to stare out the window. Allison’s eyes settled on his backside, now clad in worn jeans.

  Don’t think about it.

  She wrenched her gaze to the table and the cup of chamomile tea she’d poured an hour earlier. It was cold now, but she couldn’t bring herself to bully past him to the microwave to warm it up.

  “Theoren . . . will you just sit down so we can talk about this civilly?”

  “It’s Theo. And what was it that you wanted to civilly talk about?”

  For the moment, annoyance won the battle over her desperation—and lust. “Don’t play stupid. You know we have a lot to talk about or else you wouldn’t still be here throwing a tantrum like a . . . like a . . . hungry bear.”

  He prowled to the table, narrow eyed, and braced his hands on it, leaning toward her. “Have you ever seen a hungry bear? Because they don’t throw tantrums. They devour.”

  She mimicked his pose, leaning in, getting in his face. “Are you going to devour me?” The second the words crossed her lips, her cheeks heated.

  Stop thinking about that, Allison. For real, this time.

  If she hadn’t been his employer and fresh off a messy divorce, and if she hadn’t been only a month done with breastfeeding and barely back to feeling like her body was her own—and if Theo didn’t hate her for claiming ownership of Cloud Nine—she would have welcomed a good, old-fashioned devouring, the kind she’d always imagined she deserved, if only the world were a more perfect place and men weren’t such insufferable assholes.

  The insufferable asshole presently staring daggers at her pressed his lips together, his body tensing, like it took all his strength to hold back that fire gleaming behind his eyes. Then, without warning, a hard, loud laugh burst out of him that made her jump. Muttering in French, he returned to the window.

  “The French is getting annoying, by the way. But I’m sure that’s part of your grand plan.”

  “I have a lot of grand plans, but none of them involve you.”

  “Why, exactly, are you so angry at me?”

  “Because Cloud Nine is mine.” His attention snapped to the stack of paper on the table, a proposed contract he’d had drawn up right before Lowell’s assets were frozen. He’d brought the contract with him when he showed up in Cloud Nine’s office less than an hour after the crowds dispersed and she’d returned to the landing to put Katie to sleep in the portable crib she’d set up in the larger of the two bedrooms, the only one with a bed.

  She set her hand on the other stack of papers on the table, the legal proof that she was now the sole C.E.O. of Cloud Nine Incorporated and sole owner of the landing property. “But it’s not yours. It’s mine.” She hoped her answer sounded as strong as she meant it to, with quiet authority, as though her conscience wasn’t engaged in a tug-of-war with her brain over the unappealing position her sudden ownership put him in.