“Do you at least live close by?” Harm asked.

“No. Nowhere near. But we’ve built up a pattern of going back home-our original home, in Georgia-at Christmastime. Although this year that might change because Sophie, the youngest, just tied the knot a few months ago. I suspect we’ll use her home base now.”

“But you must have a home yourself,” Harm persisted. “Somewhere you hang your hat.”

There. For all her flirting and obviously being very, very comfortable around men, their eyes locked. He’d felt the same spark of ignition before. Something flashed in her eyes-as if the testosterone in the room hadn’t bothered her a single iota. Until she looked at him and he looked back.

“I pay rent in a place in New Orleans. That’s where I learned to cook, where I stayed the longest as an adult. So that’s where I set up an address, a place to get the bills, store stuff. But basically, I’m as footloose as you can get. Have job, will travel. And love it.”

Arthur and Fiske both focused attention on her now, although Fiske was the one who spoke up. “You don’t want a home? You’re a beautiful girl. You’re not thinking about a husband, babies?”

“Sure. But as you guys can tell, I generally get my share of offers.”

“Picky,” Ivan said, with a cock of his captain’s hat.

“Very,” Cate agreed, and then, smooth as silk, diverted the conversation away from her again. “Fiske, I can tell I’m going to have to make a fresh batch of peppermint cookies just for you tomorrow.”

Harm’s oldest in command was reaching for the cookie dish-again. “It’s not my fault, Cate. I’ve never tasted anything like these before. Can’t keep my hands off them.”