Oh, yeah, that was okay. When the five guests climbed aboard, Cate had gotten a good studying look at all but the head honcho…but this was their first chance to get a look at her. The boss man still eluded her, was shedding rain gear in the companionway, his face in shadow-but his four minions had front-row seats. They looked up, and the smell of testosterone suddenly clouded the clean sea air. Sprawled like wet rats in the cushy leather chairs, they suddenly straightened their postures. Heads nodded like bobbers.

She’d seen the response from men before. Her sisters claimed disgustedly that she was sexy even when she was down with a nose cold-which was both silly and untrue. But men were men.

Cats were so much easier to get along with.

“All right…I’m back to cooking. Only one other thing I want to say up front. I’m the god in the galley. I’m not your wife, not your girlfriend-you don’t have to watch your language or your manners around me, and you don’t need to help with a thing. But nobody touches my knives, my tools or my spices. Can’t imagine why you’d want to, anyway. If you need something from the galley, all you have to do is ask. We square?”

More head bobbing. A little laughter. A lot of smiles.

“Okay, I’ll catch up with each of you in a bit.”

En route back to the galley, naturally, Ivan tried to cop another feel. She shot him a look so icy it could have stopped global warming in its tracks, then just moved past him.

She heard his muttered chuckle. “Sheesh, Cate, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up. Don’t forget, we’re in Alaska. Rules are a lot more flexible here.”

“I’m positive I told you in the job interview that I flunked ‘plays well with others’ in kindergarten.”