Dawn Marie Hamilton -- Writer of Romance

December 6, Current Year. Moored at Sandy Hook Bay.

Robert MacLachlan licked the corner of his mouth, where a tiny droplet of blood lingered. A precious taste. He clamped white-knuckled fingers on the wheel of Sea Panther, his ninety-foot, black-hulled sloop, allowing hatred to course through his veins along with the woman's blood.

"Cursed fool." He pushed away from the wheel, away from the night view of the shore--the New Jersey clamming town with its twin lighthouse.

Coming on deck hadn't eased his torment. Not even the briny tang of the sea breeze soothed him.

Dawn neared. He retreated below to the sanctuary of his cabin.

Only on this sunrise, a lass lay sprawled across his bed.

His stomach clenched as he slid his gaze over the woman lying so still on his bunk. He curled his hands into fists, disgusted by his gluttony. Having gone too long without feeding, he'd taken too much blood. Her ashen skin, a stark contrast against the deep green velvet coverlet, provided a painful reminder of the monster he'd become.

Bloody hell. Why hadn't Colin removed the wench?

Though his hunger had been fully sated, the faint pulse at the woman's neck beckoned Robert forward. He gritted his teeth against a wave of blood-lust. A compulsion to finish, drink the last drops of her essence, drove his fist into the wood above her head. "Satan, take me." The fervent plea burst unwelcome from the depths of his anguish.

He winced and shook out his throbbing knuckles. The pain would be fleeting. The damage to the fine teak bulkhead, as with the scar across his cheek, would be a lasting symbol of his lack of restraint.

Sea Panther's first mate slipped into the cabin, a syringe in hand. "Shall I return the lass to shore?" Colin's gaze flicked to the shattered wood before he returned his attention to Robert without comment.

"Aye, that you would," Robert answered his keeper's question; barely did he recognize the raspy hiss as his own voice.

He need not worry. Colin MacEwen knew him well. Tonight his faithful servant and friend of over twenty years would clean up the mess.

Robert flinched as Colin inserted the needle into the woman's vein. Her eyelashes fluttered for a moment before she lost consciousness again.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. She came to you willingly."

"That makes it all the worse. I should have protected her from..."

Colin stopped preparing the lass for removal and twisted around to stare. "You can't help being what you are."

There was no sign of condemnation within the depth of his friend's eyes. Yet Robert was condemned. The injustice of his life burned like acid in his chest. The need to growl, the need to pound his fists, the need to beat something into submission threatened his tenuous control.

"This time I went too far." He reached deep within himself and clamped down on his aggressive desires.

The young woman with the purple-tinted hair picked him up at a bayside bar. Dressed in black lace and leather and chains, she told him she wanted to hook-up with a vampire. He should have been wary.

"How she learned what I am is a mystery. I ought to have stopped when the warning alarm sounded in my head. Walked away." He swallowed and guilt settled in his gut. "Instead, I gave her what she wanted and almost took her life. I have little compassion left. Time is running out. I must unearth a cure."

"You will, my friend. Have faith."

"Soon it will be three hundred years." A long time to be cursed. Robert rubbed the ache building at the back of his neck. "I am tired."

"Has Dr. Knight made any progress?"

Hope beat in rhythm with Robert's blackened heart. The award-winning ethnologist, who specialized in Caribbean Voodoo, was the most recent addition to the staff at the scientific foundation he funded in the Florida Everglades. The world believed the assorted experts in his employ researched the endangered Florida panther.

He choked on a dry chuckle. Their true objective was to find a cure for his malady.

Damn it, they had better discover something soon, or darkness would claim what little remained of his humanity.

Colin watched him expectantly.

"The good doctor is diligent, searching through piles of dusty historical texts. There are a few theories. Nothing concrete." Robert released a frustrated breath. "I realize after tonight how desperate my need has become. I must return to Florida and undergo more tests. One of those expensive scientists on my payroll had better find a cure before I destroy another human life."

His friend clasped his upper arm. "I'll see to the lass."

"Aye. And arrange to have blood delivered at each port of call. I will not risk any more innocents."

With a grunt, Colin hefted the woman over his shoulder. "I'll hand her off to Jagger. He'll take her to a safe house. She'll be well cared for until she recovers." He adjusted the weight of his burden. "When do we leave?"

"Tell the crew we sail on the tide."

* * *

December 9, Cape May, New Jersey

Cheerful carolers serenaded from hidden speakers. The way too joyous music taunted Kimberly as she wandered along the Cape May avenue, peering into storefronts glittered with holiday decorations. The chill of the evening didn't bother her; there was no need to hurry. She halted in front of a display of sinful pastries. Along with the tantalizing scents of nutmeg and cinnamon wafting from the bakery, an overload of better-time memories swept over her, and she released her breath with a sigh.

She blinked several times, refusing to get all weepy.

After spending the better part of the day trying to rise above her malaise, she still felt like crap. Neither the seasonal splendor nor the afternoon of window-shopping had done much to dispel the remnants of her nightmares.

As she strolled farther along the wide avenue, subdued light spilled across her path from the windows of a crowded restaurant. A well-dressed couple passed, burdened with bundles of wrapped packages. Kimberly crossed her empty arms and hugged herself. She hadn't purchased anything. What little cash remained in her stash would be needed when the week's reprieve ended.

A prickle teased the base of her neck and she increased her pace. Was someone following her? The anxiety stealing her breath was probably ridiculous. After all, she walked a very public main street on a Friday night.

The December wind whipped up, and she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her overcoat. She crossed the street and stepped onto the snow-dusted sidewalk in front of the corner diner. Stopping under a streetlight, she nonchalantly turned around.

Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh.

The man who stood before her was what her sister Sarah called drop dead gorgeous. Sensual heat oozed from every pore of his over six feet of muscle clothed in tight black jeans, leather jacket, and biker boots.

Kimberly ran her gaze over the length of him, hoping she wasn't being too obvious. The man's short, tawny-brown hair with a slight reddish tinge was styled to spiky perfection. A firm square jaw filled out his rugged face. And his eyes...

Humor flashed in his expressive cinnamon gaze and his sexy full lips parted into a slash of a grin, displaying perfect white teeth. She gasped before she could stop herself.

A Bad Boy. Her spine tingled with-could it be attraction?

Then she noticed the scar. The thin line marred the side of his handsome face from the corner of his right eye, across his cheek to his chin, making him appear dangerous.

How had he gotten so close without her hearing him? Muscles in her chest constricted. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She took a step backward.

The man held out her scarf. "Lass, you dropped this a way back."

His yummy Scottish burr stroked her like a physical caress, and a delicious shiver slid across her shoulder blades. What an idiot to think he meant her harm. He only intended to return the scarf. He wasn't a hit man sent by one of her powerful ex-clients.

"Thank you." She pulled her hand out of her pocket and reached to take the woolen tartan from him. The brief touch of their fingers sent electric tingles dancing across her skin. Her cheeks burned with unexpected heat.

Laugh lines crinkled at the edges of the man's eyes as his smile widened. "Good eve'n to you." With a respectful nod, he whirled and strode down the street.

Kimberly stared after him as if she'd never seen a man before.

Gathering her scattered wits, she entered the brightly lit diner.

While she waited for the hostess, she perused the want ads pinned to a bulletin board next to the counter. One in particular drew her attention and she read it a second time...

90-ft. sloop SEA PANTHER seeking fifth crewmember for coastal cruise, leaving Cape May on 11 Dec., docking Charleston, SC for refit, continuing on to Florida and the Caribbean. Experience required. Fair wages. Inquire at Rusty Scupper.

If only she'd the nerve to reply to the ad, she could sail away from all her problems.

Taking off would be a major cop-out, but then again, the fantasy of escaping from her messed up life offered a certain appeal. And she did need a job.

"Miss, would you prefer to sit at a booth or the counter?" A college-age girl with a blond ponytail interrupted Kimberly's thoughts.

"A booth, please."

Her stomach gave off a soft gurgle as she slid into the offered seat. Hoping no one heard, she pressed her hand to her belly and lowered her gaze to the menu.

Nothing appealed. She hadn't had an appetite in weeks. Not since she learned the offshore deal she invested all of her savings in, along with the money of a few of her clients', had failed. From that point on, life turned hellish.

Her boss fired her.

And if that wasn't traumatic enough? When her fiancé Jason found out, he broke off their engagement-even though he was the one who gave her the tip and encouraged her to make the investments.

After taking her order, the server returned with a sad-looking wilted salad.

Kimberly pushed the limp lettuce around in the bowl with her fork and imagined she had the courage to apply for the crew position on the ninety-foot yacht. Jumping at the job would be a short-term answer to her situation. If only she could...

She couldn't do it.

During her teenage years, she had loved to sail with her father. That was, until disaster fell. Until he died on night watch while the rest of the crew slept.

A tear escaped Kimberly's eye and slid along her cheek. She'd been away at college. If she'd joined him for that ill-fated cruise, maybe the accident would never have happened. Whenever she sailed with her father, she stayed up and shared the night watch. Had she been with him, his sailboat wouldn't have been on autopilot, and he wouldn't have been swept overboard by the boom during an unexpected jibe.

No, she couldn't take the job. She brushed away moisture from her cheek. She hadn't sailed since her father's death, and she'd vowed never to sail again.

Still, on her way out the door, on a whim, she pulled the index card off the bulletin board and stuck it into her coat pocket.

* * *

The simple act of returning the woman's scarf had taken a dangerous turn when their fingers touched. The power surge coursing through Robert's veins awakened the panther. He barely made it to the tall grass on the outskirts of town before the transformation claimed him.

He chose not to fight the change. He welcomed it with every fiber of his being.

His heart raced. Blood throbbed at his temples and a tortured curse escaped his lips. He discarded his garments and clenched his teeth; muscles ripped and tendons snapped and bones distorted to conform to the panther's shape. Coarse golden fur tipped with a reddish tinge rippled over his bare skin, making him quiver with urgency.

His nostrils flared, and he sniffed the salty breeze. There would be precious few moments for his pleasure before the beast seized complete control.

He darted through the salt marsh, his paws sinking into moist earth. His growl sounded out a soul-wrenching lament on the injustice of his life. Robert couldn't shake the feminine image of the tall graceful woman with sassy brown curls and haunted chocolate eyes. The desire to mate shook him to his core.

Far away from the trappings of civilization, he slowed to a rhythmic lope.

He hoped no one found his tracks. He could imagine the headlines. Big Cats Return to South Jersey. Cougar Tracks Sighted in Cape May County.

On closer inspection, a zoologist would recognize the smaller paw prints and attribute them to the Florida panther, Puma concolor coryi. Researchers would bombard his foundation with inquiries. His secret would be in jeopardy.

The panther reared its full power and forced away Robert's human thoughts.

A raccoon moving through the reeds caught his keen gaze. He pounced on his prey. Yet on the fringes of his consciousness remained the unquenched desire for his mate.

* * *

Sofa to sliders and back, Kimberly paced the sitting area of her room. What could she do to make things right? Being homeless frightened her more than she wanted to admit. The only reason she stayed at this upscale B&B was her fiancé--ex-fiancé--paid for a romantic tryst before taking off to the Cayman Islands with his administrative assistant.

Kimberly rubbed her stiff neck and tried to force the overwhelming thoughts about the catastrophe that ruined her life to the back of her mind. Jason paid for a full week's stay in Victorian Cape May. She promised herself she'd enjoy this mini vacation without dwelling on the carnage. When the week ended, she'd worry about how to move forward.

The incessant ringing of her cell phone coiled her nerves tighter. An unfamiliar number showed on the display. She chewed on the edge of her lower lip. Should she answer? Curiosity won the mental debate. She grabbed her purple crackberry from the coffee table and plopped onto the comfy sofa. "Hello."

"Hey, I'm on break. Had to borrow a phone. Battery died in mine. Had this feeling. You know. Felt like I needed to hear your voice. You okay?" The clipped words spoken by her sweet sister Sarah allowed Kimberly to relax.

"Fine." She hesitated, suppressing a twinge of guilt for lying. "I met a gorgeous guy tonight with a sexy Scottish burr."

Crap. What made her say that? Kimberly hung her head and silently groaned.

"I thought you swore off men."

"I did. I'm not planning to date the guy or anything. I dropped my scarf, and he returned it, is all." Oh yeah, and the exciting sensual spark she experienced when their fingers touched. She didn't dare mention that fascinating tidbit to her sister.

"You don't think he's the hit man your ex-client hired? Do..."

Static blared from the speaker. "You're breaking up. I can't hear you."

"Can you hear me now?" Sarah popped her gum.

Kimberly laughed. "Yeah. Loud and clear. You sound like the guy from that annoying commercial."

"Never mind that. Before the signal broke up, I said, could he be the hit man Mr. Romano hired? You don't think he followed you to Cape May, do you? Jerky Jason might have told him where to find you. I've felt negative energy for days."

Unease bubbled in Kimberly's stomach. Her sister sometimes had a sixth sense about things. "Don't be overdramatic. There isn't a hit man after me. Jason hoped to scare me with the warning. He didn't want me to enjoy my stay in Cape May." Kimberly brushed an unsteady finger over the smooth fabric of the floral sofa. "Besides, Mr. Romano is a respected businessman. Even though I lost a lot of his money, he wouldn't hire a hit man to kill me."

"Yeah? Well, he might be mafia. Please, be careful. You've already lost too much. And as for Jason, I'm glad he won't be my brother-in-law."

The last thing Kimberly wanted to do was think about Jason Reedman, or any of the disaster that had become her life. Couldn't Sarah understand that? "Let's drop it."

"But I feel so bad. I'm really sorry the bank foreclosed on your condo."

Kimberly held back tears threatening to leak from her eyes. She had lost everything. "Thanks for the support, sis. Things will work out." At least, she hoped so.

"I have a couple thousand saved."

"I don't want your money." Kimberly twirled strands of hair around her finger; appalled by the idea she might be desperate enough to need to borrow money from her younger sister.

"What will you do when the week in Cape May is over?"

"I'll crash on your sofa, look for a job, and celebrate Christmas." Though who would hire her after what happened? Who would trust her?

She ended the call and went to bed. Terrifying dreams plagued her throughout the night. In the morning, the amiable conversations over breakfast in the B&B's dining room eased the residual dread that always haunted her after suffering nightmares.

When the other guests left for the day, Kimberly returned to her room and opened the door. The curtains performed a macabre dance, billowing in the breeze from the open sliding glass door.

No. Denial screamed in her mind, turning to fear as her gaze frantically darted around the room. The closet doors hung ajar. Drawers from the dresser sat on the floor in disarray. Clothing lay scattered on every surface.

A sharp pain shot through her chest. She stumbled back and ran along the hall and down the stairs. The rapid pounding of her heart made her feel sick. Bile burned her throat. Taking deep breaths, she rushed through the parlor to her host's office.

* * *

After spending most of the morning with the local police, Kimberly leaned against the hood of her car in front of the Rusty Scupper Bar & Grill. She stole a moment's respite in the warmth of the noon sun while she debated whether she should walk in. The ad in her pocket had sent her driving out of town to a place called Paradise Point. After getting lost a few times, she finally found the tavern. The dilapidated bar didn't look like it belonged in paradise.

The sign over the door hung from one hook. There were two, fifty-dollar pickups parked in the gravel lot. Not exactly encouraging.

A chill breeze tickled her cheeks, and she shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets. The sun sat high in the cloudless sky, so if there was a better time to get this over with she didn't know it. The last thing she wanted was to be here after dark.

Kimberly stiffened her spine and took out her cell phone. She pressed the speed dial button for her sister and hoped Sarah had recharged her battery.

After two rings, the cheerful voice of her sister answered, "Hey."

"Hi." Kimberly's chest tightened but she plowed on. "I might not make it for Christmas."

"Why not?"

"Ran into a bit of a difficulty. Need to lay low for a while."

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Someone ransacked my room at the B&B this morning while I was at breakfast." If it wasn't bad enough knowing someone broke into her room, to think they touched her personal stuff made Kimberly nauseous.

"Did they steal anything?"

"No. I no longer have anything of value worth stealing. I pawned all my electronics and most of my jewelry. The police said maybe one of the other guests disturbed a robber and they ran off. Though, I don't think the cops believe that any more than I do."

"Do you think it was the hit man?"

The ache in Kimberly's belly burned. "I don't know. I'm scared."

"Then you should come here. I'll get one of my really big guy friends to protect you."

"I'm not going to put you or your friends at risk. I saw a crew ad for a ninety-foot yacht sailing to Florida and the Caribbean. I plan to be on that boat when it departs."

A long shrill whistle sounded from the phone speaker. "Are you losing it? You swore you'd never sail again."

"I know, but I'm desperate."

"You don't have to be. I can lend you some money and..."

Kimberly cut her off. "I don't want you mixed up in this mess."

"But..."

"Let it go. Please."

"You're too impulsive. You can't just take off with strangers on a mega-yacht."

Kimberly winced. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought of the risks.

"I did an internet search on the yacht. The owner is some sort of wealthy philanthropist who operates a panther research facility in South Florida. All above board. I'll be safe."

"Oh Kimba, how do you know for sure?"

"Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Sarah's heavy sigh sounded grave. "I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this. Am I?"

"No." There was no way her sister was changing Kimberly's mind. She was determined to be on Sea Panther when the yacht set sail, even if she had to stow away.

"Be careful and call me often. I need to know you're okay."

"I will." Kimberly disconnected the call and placed her phone back in her purse.

She pulled the index card out of her coat pocket and stared at the masculine penned block letters. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the door handle and twisted.

The dank smells of stale beer and perspiration and moldy wood, mixed with a hint of urine assaulted Kimberly as she entered the decrepit bar. Her eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the dimness before she saw the three salty old men who stared at her.

Two sat on bar stools twisted in her direction. The other stood behind the bar, drying a streaked glass with a stained linen towel.

She swallowed, suppressing the urge to run out the door. Lead took up residence in her legs as she walked across the sticky plank floor to the bar. The bartender smiled, showing tobacco-stained teeth. Kimberly fiddled with the tattered index card in her hand.

"Can I help you, miss?" The bartender dropped a cardboard coaster in front of her.

"I'm interested in the crew position on Sea Panther."

Three sets of eyes widened. Not a good sign.

The scruffy guy seated on the stool closest to her rubbed his gray beard. "You want to crew for the Panther? You're a brave girl."

"Oh? Is that not wise?"

The bartender gave the patron a scathing look, and the man stared down into his beer mug.

The door creaked open with a burst of cold air. Everyone glanced in that direction to see who entered. A tall, brawny man with red hair and ruddy complexion approached the bar, and the bartender handed him a foamy mug, which he downed in two gulps. Then he sat on a stool at the end of the bar and pushed the empty mug toward the bartender. "Give me another, Mackey."

Mackey laughed. "Have a bad day, Colin?"

"Aye, you could say that. Worked up a heavy thirst."

"Well, your day is about to improve."

"How so?"

Mackey tilted his head toward Kimberly. "This lady here is interested in crewing for the Panther."

The redheaded man glanced at her. One side of his mouth rose, and he shook his head a couple of times. Then he measured her with his stare.

"Join me, lass." He gestured to the barstool next to him.

Another man with a Scottish burr. Were Scotsmen taking over South Jersey? Kimberly hid her nervous amusement behind a cough. Then she shored up her courage and slid onto the stool next to the big man. Either she had impeccable timing or fate had taken an interest in her.

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked.

"No thanks, too early for me."

"Suit yourself, though I'm sure it's happy hour somewhere." He grabbed the refilled beer mug from Mackey and took a long swallow. Setting the mug on the bar, he swiveled his stool to face her. "Colin MacEwen."

She laid the index card on the bar and shook his outstretched hand. "Kimberly Scot."

Colin's gaze shifted to the card, and he smiled. "I see you found one of my wee advertisements."

"Are you the captain?"

"First mate. My distant cousin is the captain." His keen hazel eyes once again roamed over her.

She fought not to squirm under his intense inspection.

"Why do you want to crew on Sea Panther?"

"I need a job."

He grunted. "Do you have experience?"

"Yes." Kimberly breathed a silent sigh. "You may have heard of my father. Jimmy Scot?"

She waited to see if her father's name had any effect. Colin's features revealed nothing of his thoughts so she continued, "He was an international racer. I sometimes crewed for him when he wasn't racing. He died several years ago."

"I've heard of Fast Jimmy." Colin's face softened and he took a swig from his beer mug. "Sea Panther sails at a leisurely pace, making frequent stops along the way. Will that bore you?"

"No." Kimberly did her best to hide her relief.

"Okay, then. You'll need to meet with the Captain. He'll have more questions for you."

"Sure."

"Meet him here at eleven tonight. And don't let him intimidate you."

"Here?" Kimberly squeaked.

"Problem?"

She glanced around the barroom. Colin chuckled. Her features must have revealed her distaste.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"I was staying at a B&B in Cape May."

"And now?"

Kimberly lowered her gaze to the well-worn surface of the mahogany bar. "Nowhere."

Colin reached for the index card on the bar in front of her and flipped it over. He pulled a pen from his breast pocket and jotted an address on the tattered sheet. "Here." He handed it to Kimberly. "Be there at seven o'clock tonight. I'll make sure the Captain is at the club, and I'll tell our lads you'll be coming." He chugged the remainder of his beer and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the bar. "Take care, Mackey." He inclined his head to her. "Good day, Miss Scot."

Before he walked out the door, he called back. "Be there at seven. Don't be late, the Captain hates tardiness." He chuckled as he left.

Kimberly exhaled sharply and glanced at the bartender. He watched her as if she were a specimen under a microscope. She smiled at him. Now that she set her course, she wanted a drink. Needed one, actually. And as the mate said, it must be after five somewhere in the world. "I'd like a glass of red wine."

"Right away, miss, but you should have let Colin buy you the drink. His captain is swimming in money."

Now she'd get the real poop.

The bar patron who'd started to speak to her earlier said, "Colin is okay, but the Captain is strange."

An uneasy sensation settled in Kimberly's chest. "What do you mean?"

"He's never seen other than at night and there are rumors."

"What kind of rumors?"

"Dark tales."

Kimberly bit her bottom lip.

Mackey scowled at the man. "Do shush, Tinker. Don't be scaring the lady."

The other patron dressed in a black wool fisherman sweater finally spoke. "Aren't you afraid to crew for the Panther? He's a hard man."

Kimberly didn't know why she had the urge to jump to the Captain's defense. She'd never met the man. Didn't even know what his name was. And these men thought she should be afraid. "If you know a reason I shouldn't crew on Sea Panther, I wish you would tell me what it is."

"Well, there's rumors is all," Tinker said.

"Please, tell me more."

"Captain MacLachlan's a reclusive billionaire," Mackey said.

"Some say..." The man in the sweater looked around the barroom with wide eyes as if he feared the walls hid listening ears. "...a pirate."

* * *

Robert stared out the paned window of one of the private dining rooms of the nightclub he owned. He seldom came here, the club merely a financial investment. But when one of his crewmembers was called home for a family emergency, and Sea Panther had to make port, Paradise Point and Cape May seemed a likely place to go.

He still reeled from the phone call he received moments earlier. Colin sent a woman for him to interview. Why? The man knew better.

Before Robert could wrap his mind around the why of his first mate's actions, a knock sounded at the door. He yelled enter and continued to peer into the garden. He knew he was being rude, but he wanted to get control of his battling emotions before he faced the woman who had so bedazzled Colin.

The sound of a feminine throat clearing stiffened his spine, and he whirled around to face the woman. His breath left him in a rush. Before him stood the lass who haunted his dreams for the past night and day-ever since he saw her on the street and returned her scarf. A simple touch of their fingers had produced sparks. Remnants of the intense jolt of power that had released the panther from his tight restraints continued to surge through Robert's blood.

He needed to be wary of this dangerous woman. He couldn't hire her; have her near him, night after night, for the entire duration of a cruise. Too great would be the temptation.

Robert studied her tall, slim form. She appeared elegant even though casually dressed. Her soft chocolate eyes gazed at him from a sculpted ivory face framed by shoulder length curly brown hair touched with a hint of gold. His gaze fed on lush lips that begged for passionate kisses.

When her tongue darted out and moistened those lips, every muscle in his body clenched. Fire raced through his veins. He was lost.

He couldn't allow it.

He stiffened his resolve.

"Please, have a seat," Robert reluctantly offered.

Her eyes glimmered with recognition, and she smiled. "Captain MacLachlan?"

"Aye." He waved toward a chair. "Sit," he said. He clenched his jaw, his voice sounded gruffer than he'd intended. Just as well, he didn't want to encourage her.

She quickly sat. A perplexed expression played on her perfect features.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"I...I'm sorry." She jumped up and reached out her hand. "Kimberly Scot."

"Robert MacLachlan, Captain of Sea Panther." He hesitated before shaking her hand. Would her touch produce the same effect as on their last meeting? He tightened his control on the panther and grasped her hand.

Zap.

Her eyes widened.

He yanked his arm away; extinguished the unwanted flame of lust hardening his loins. This woman was trouble. "Sit," he barked.

Though her hands trembled, she did as directed.

Robert poured wine into two goblets from the bottle chilling in an ice bucket on the wet bar. He handed her one, careful not to make contact with her fingers. "I own this establishment. The wine is excellent."

"Thank you," she said politely as she took the glass.

He grunted. God, he was being rude.

He paced a few feet away. Far enough not to reach for her. The lingering sensation from their brief handshake made him edgy. The pulse at her neck called to the vampire. And the panther, demanding his mate, fought against the bonds to which Robert tethered the animal.

"So you want to crew on Sea Panther?"

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes before she said, "Yes."

Was she afraid? Aye. He could smell her trepidation. Although it was best she fear him, the thought didn't sit well.

"Why do you want to crew for me?"

"I need a job."

"I see."

Her dark brows rose in a graceful arch. "Do you?"

"What experience do you have?"

"I sailed with my father when I was a teenager."

Robert ignored the pinch in his chest and slid his gaze over her too-slim form. He lingered on the curve of her breast before gradually directing his eyes higher. Satisfied when she blushed, he said, "Not to be insulting, but you haven't been a teenager for a long time."

The angry tilt of her chin exposed the sweet, soft, tempting length of her throat. His fangs punched through his gums and he had to force himself to concentrate on her words. "My father was Jimmy Scot. I'm sure you've heard of him."

Indeed. Fast Jimmy had won more international yacht races than any of his contemporaries. What was his daughter doing seeking a job on Sea Panther? Although the lass wore quality garments, Colin believed she was without resources.

"When was the last time you sailed?"

"Before my father died. Listen, I need a job, and I'm a good sailor."

Robert released an annoyed breath. The lass must be in a dire situation if she'd no one to turn to other than him. Damn the woman. She would have to appeal to his honor.

He grudgingly had to admit he respected her for standing up to him. Few dared.

She held his gaze while she waited for a response. Her imploring brown eyes slashed his defenses. Robert didn't want to give in. He should send her away.

He retreated to the other side of the room and sat on the red leather sofa. With one leg crossed over the other knee, he tried to appear unaffected by her presence. He observed her as he morosely pretended to sip from his goblet of wine, wishing the crystal glass contained her blood.