But how fascinating.
Chapter 4
At 5:30 in the morning, Cate quit glaring at the ceiling of her cabin and gave up. She never had insomnia. Ever. But apparently, she was still too riled up about Harm to catch at any serious sleep, so she crawled out of the bunk and grabbed her laptop.
She didnt feel quite so claustrophobic by the port window. Outside, a shimmer of pale light dozed on the smooth waters as she turned on the laptop. She was way overdue e-mailing her two sisters. She was between the two in age, but her role had always been the caretaker. The tough one. Theyd all been scarred and scared kids, but Cate saw the other two as more wounded. Someone had to watch out for them.
The note to Sophie, of course, had to be first, because her e-mail box was clogged with e-mails about how happy her sister was. It was enough to give Cate hives. Enough was enough. Soph. Youre not still on your honeymoon. For Petes sake, youve been married almost six months. Its time for you two to have a fight. A real fight. How can I trust this guy if he doesnt behave like a normal male animal?
Then she pounded out an e-mail to Lily. I dont want to hear all the teaching crap. This is summer. I want to hear that youre out meeting guys, sleeping with guys, being irresponsible and impulsive. If you go to one more jewelry or Tupperware party, I swear to god Im flying home to kick you in the behind.
There. Her sister-caretaking duties were done for the day. She closed her laptop, congratulating herself for getting her mind off Harm-and then noticed that only ten minutes had passed.
She tried a quick shower, thinking that maybe she could scrub the man out of her thoughts, but that didnt work, either.
Shed never been afraid of a man. No reason to be. Shed already faced the life stuff that was really terrifying-which was, cut and dried, losing everything that mattered to you. Guys didnt fall into that category. She could love them and walk away, just like she did possessions and places and everything else. Harm shouldnt be any different.
Only, damnation, he was. She wouldnt mind being attracted to a moneygrubbing hotshot, heavily into power and ownership and command and all that nonsense. Thats what he was supposed to be. Thats what shed thought he was.
Impatiently, she towel-dried her hair, yanked on layers of merino wool and fleece, then slipped her feet into moc-boots. It was the way hed kissed that threw her, she admitted to herself. Shed expected arrogance and selfishness. Shed expected him to be a taker.
Impatiently, she towel-dried her hair, yanked on layers of merino wool and fleece, then slipped her feet into moc-boots. It was the way hed kissed that threw her, she admitted to herself. Shed expected arrogance and selfishness. Shed expected him to be a taker.
Instead, he kissed as if he were a big old lonesome lion, who craved his own lioness to come home to, a cave of his own, the one place in a predator world where he could let down his hair.
As Cate climbed to the main deck, she almost let out a totally unfeminine snort. Harm in the role of romantic lion? Right. Annoyed the man was still entrenched in her thoughts, she was determined to concentrate on something else.
Like food. Food was always positive.
Ambling through the salon, the only sound she heard was the steady slop-slurping of water cradling the boat. As she passed through into the dining area, she found exactly the mess shed expected-glasses and plates everywhere. She and Ivan had had a brouhaha before he hired her on. She was a chef, not a maid. Without a cabin boy, somebody was going to have to pick up the housekeeping duties. Eventually, they agreed-once he put more money in the kitty for her-that shed clean up the dining room and galley 24/7. The rest of the boat was his problem.
She lifted the lid on the giant silver coffeepot-a treasure, old silver-and figured shed grind Hawaiian beans today, add a touch of hazelnutthen scooped up a tray of glasses to cart into the galley.
She barely turned the corner before shock hit.
There was a long, bulky shadow on the floor. A body. A mans body.
The tray careened on the counter in a noisy clatter of glasses and silverware. She fell to her knees, put her finger on the pulse of his neck, then felt another shiver of shock when she realized his eyes were open.
She knew CPR. She was damned good at CPR. Unfortunately, CPR was too darned late to do any good. She recognized Fiske even before she knelt down-who else had that classic Santa-Claus figure? But it seemed impossible that he was dead. Shed just seen him a few hours before. How could that dear, gentle, quiet man who loved her peppermint cookies have died just like that?
Confusion suddenly made her freeze. It was a darned real question. How could he have died just like that? Obviously, he must have been seeking something from the galley in the middle of the night. But what? And he was crumpled on the floor in the oddest position, his hands framed in a cupped position around his neck. Had he choked? But on what?
If hed slipped and fallen in the tight space of the galley, he would undoubtedly have hit a hard surface-yet there was no sign of blood or physical injury. If hed choked, there was no sign of food or whatever he could have choked on.
She gulped, then jumped to her feet and hit the lights. She wanted Harm. To tell him first, to be the one to deal with this. But that was just her hearts instinct. Rationally, she knew her first responsibility was to contact Ivan. On a ship, the captain was the god, the law, and any other role that was stuck with bottom-line responsibility. She reached for the pager on the wall by the sink, her hands shaking as she hit the button for Ivans cabin.
What? Ivans voice was curt and groggy. No surprise, shed wakened him.
Its me, Cate. Im in the galley. Fiske is here. I dont know what happened. But somehowhes dead. I just found him.
Ivan muttered a curse, a sound of shock. Then, Ill be right there. Dont do anything else until I get up there. Orwait. Wake Connolly, would you? Its his man. We should tell him before anyone else finds out. And Ill be there as fast as I can get dressed.
She hung up, took one last long look at Fiske, and then ran. Her mind felt like a shaken box of Scrabble pieces, unable to form coherent words, make coherent sense. She pelted through the silent boat, belowdecks, then rapped sharply on Harms door. He was undoubtedly sleeping. Shed probably have to rap more than once. Yet she hadnt even lifted her hand for a second knock when the cabin door opened.
Cate didnt panic. She never panicked. She wasnt the shaky, panicky type, yet Harm took one look, said, Easy there, in a voice more gentle than silk. He pulled her in, pulled her close. Bad news, he said, not wasting time framing it as a question.
She nodded, because her chin seemed to be wobbling too much to get a clear word out. It was his fault she couldnt keep it together. At least he didnt sleep naked, but he was only wearing sweat bottoms tied low on his hips. Her cheek seemed to be pressed into the geography of blond hair on his chest, which covered a far more muscular torso than a desk man should have. Its not that sex was on her mind. It wasnt. Even remotely. It was just
No one did that. Held her. Just pulled her in and held her. And because Harm was so clearly braced for trouble, to take care of trouble, she didnt have to be.
Its Fiske, Harm.
Sick?
Worse. I found him dead on the galley floor. I paged Ivan right away, woke him up-hes probably en route to the galley by now. He asked me to come get you.
Of course. But he didnt immediately release her, as if waiting to make sure she was steady again. He pulled back, blue eyes examining her face, shrewdly assessing how she was. Its frightening. Finding someone who died. Happened when I was in the military too damned often. I dont care how tough you are. Its hard.
She took a big gulp, found the steadiness that had eluded her. Maybe shed just needed him to say that she wasnt a wuss. It was awful, she admitted, and then quickly turned around to face the door.
The instant Harm let go of her, he reached for the drawstring tie at his waist, obviously intent on dressing fast-whether she was there or not. Could you tell what happened? How he died?
She hesitated. Ive got some solid first-aid background, but I dont have any doctor-type judgment or experience-
Cate. Could you tell how he died?
From the quiet urgency in his voice, she realized what he was really asking-if Frisk had died a natural death or if hed been murdered.
Shock numbed her throat. She understood that the problems in his company were grave, but not that Harm had been worried about something like foul play or violence being a possibility. Suddenly, everything shed seen and heard took on extra dimension. Her voice seemed to come out full of gravel.
I dont know, Harm. There was no blood, so it didnt look as if he fell and hit his head. I She just couldnt force the picture back in her mind. I cant guess why he was in the galley. Whatever happened must have occurred after you and I went below deck, so the timing had to be in the really wee hours of the morning. Her voice started to crack. But I just dont know what a heart attack or stroke looks like, so I-
Okay. Damn. Didnt mean to make you feel put on the spot. The factsll come out, Cate. Itll all get figured out. And Im headed up right now. But before charging ahead of her toward the companionway, he snugged a hand on her shoulder. It wasnt a sexual touch-just a totally personal one. A gentle squeeze of support, an awareness of how upset she was, even if she didnt show it. A gesture to let her know he was there.
Cate headed back on deck, thinking what a way to tick a girl off. She wasnt used to anyone being there for her. She didnt want anyone there, hadnt depended on anyone since she could remember-and liked it that way.
She damn near fell in love with the man over that single stupid gesture.
She damn near fell in love with the man over that single stupid gesture.
Of course, she wasnt herself. Finding a dead body was a mighty upsetting way to start a day.