Mesmerizing Stranger

He turned, just far enough so she could see his glower. “And quit looking at me that way.”

“What way?”

“You think I won’t bite your head off—I will.”

“Go for it,” she urged him. “Bite.”

Suddenly he grabbed her. His hands were rough on her shoulders. He yanked her closer. His mouth slapped on hers, communicating pressure and dominance. He was one pissed-off kahuna, all right.

Still, she didn’t back off and she didn’t kick back. She did what any other lunatic of a woman would do.

She melted. Right into him. Feeling the rush of sensation when his kiss darkened, deepened, took.

When he suddenly jerked his head up, she just might have fallen if he hadn’t still been holding her.

“My God, you’re trouble,” he grumped.

“Watch it. Compliments go straight to my head.”

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Dear Reader,

In real life my kids were lucky to survive my cooking. One time, just trying to boil water, I nearly burned the house down. Another time I tried a new recipe that even the dogs wouldn’t eat.

But in fiction I get to play…and this story gave me a chance to play with fabulous, interesting food. My heroine’s knowledge of food enables her to identify a murder—even if no one else could see it. And my hero, of course, never knows what hit him from the time he first meets her.

This story was so much fun to write—murder, mayhem, Alaska, gourmet delicacies and a hero and heroine who are so, so positive they couldn’t possibly belong together.

I hope you enjoy.

Jennifer Greene

lives near Lake Michigan with her husband and an assorted menagerie of pets. Michigan State University has honored her as an outstanding woman graduate for her work with women on campus.

Jennifer has written more than seventy love stories, for which she has won numerous awards, including four RITA® Awards from the Romance Writers of America and both their Hall of Fame and Lifetime Achievement Awards.

You’re welcome to contact Jennifer through her Web site at www.jennifergreene.com.

To Lil

I wish you all were so lucky as to have someone this uniquely special in your life. Love you, Lil. In the next life, hope I can be more like you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

In the army, Harm Connolly had developed a reputation for trouble. Not for getting into it, but getting out of it, and he was most attracted to trouble when the odds were against him.

Temporarily, though, impossible problems didn’t strike him as any fun at all.

For the first time in his life, he couldn’t find his guts. He really, really wanted to disappear in a deep, dark cave under an assumed name where no one could possibly find him.

It was the boat.

Since he’d arrived in Juneau yesterday, the rain had gushed down in thick, drenching sheets, and still showed no sign of letting up. The rain didn’t bother him. That he was cold and soaked didn’t bother him, either.

But standing on the dock, staring at the l03-foot yacht—ironically named Bliss—Harm reflected gloomily that he’d rather suffer a burst appendix, get married again, face a firing squad—anything but climb aboard.

He’d never liked boats. Didn’t matter if it was a dingy or a luxury yacht. The idea of being trapped on one for the next two weeks was enough to give him shudders…and the funny part of it all was that the boat trip had been his idea.

The gray, relentless rain blurred any chance of clear visibility, but Harm still kept his gaze homed on the four men climbing aboard ahead of him. They were all brilliant—a ton smarter than him—yet they’d become his employees a mind-boggling few weeks ago.

They’d sucked up to him from the get-go, but with each other… Hell. This morning, typically, none were speaking to each other. Enough friction sizzled among the four to fry a hole in the ozone. The silent anger pouring off the men was so toxic that it was bound to combust unless Harm somehow found a way to identify and defuse the source. Soon. Damn soon.

The yacht staff—captain and mate—greeted each of the men and ported their gear. Harm was last by choice. He wanted to board that boat like he wanted to cuddle up with a hornet’s nest. Still, if he had to find something positive about this incredible mess…at least there were no women around.

When push came to shove, Harm didn’t doubt his ability to handle financial crises or catastrophes or unexpected avalanches.

He was pretty good at handling most anything but estrogen.

“Mr. Connolly—Harm! Welcome aboard!” The captain, in full rain gear, surged forward and extended his hand. “Hope your trip into Juneau was pleasant. Nice weather for whales, huh?”

Harm was beginning to recognize Alaskans’ unique brand of humor, and even wet and raw, the captain’s smile was deferential. Harm got mighty tired of people treating him as if he walked on water, but in this case, he didn’t mind the wary respect. Naturally, he’d thoroughly researched Ivan Gregory before signing on for this trip.