“But even if you hadn’t, the business isn’t exactly rolling in money. I had to make some very expensive repairs to the engines a couple of weeks ago, repairs which were supposed to prevent this-” she pointed an accusing finger at the ailing engine “-from happening. The insurance rates have gone up again. Then there’s the price of fuel and…Why am I telling you this? Just look at the damn books.”

She leaned over the engine again, applying her wrench to a rusty bolt with no success. By propping one shapely leg against the boat’s hull as leverage, she finally cracked the nut loose. She unscrewed it and lifted a metal plate, revealing a spaghetti bowl of multicolored wires.

“Ah-hah,” she said with a note of triumph. “Just as I thought, another short. Would you look at this wire? It could have caused a fire. When I get hold of Mickey…” She busied herself yanking the charred wire from the spaghetti, then reached into a tool box for a length of replacement wire. She deftly stripped the rubber casing off the ends and reconnected…whatever it was that had become disconnected.

“Who’s Mickey?” Cooper asked.

“Worst mechanic in Port Clara, that’s who. Could you go turn the ignition and see if the thing starts?”

“Won’t it just short out again?”

“Maybe. But I have lots of wire. I’ll just have to jerry-rig it well enough to get through the day. Then I’ll call Mickey and have him fix it right this time.”

“Shouldn’t you call someone else?”

She pointed the wrench at him. “Ignition? Please?”

Cooper didn’t like being ordered around. But the fact was, she obviously knew more about boat engines than him. If there was one thing corporate law had taught him, it was that knowledge is power.

He would have to learn. Meanwhile, maybe allowing Allie to stick around awhile-just till he got his sea legs-wasn’t such a bad idea. And speaking of legs, he needed to stop looking at hers, even if she insisted on showing them off in those Daisy Dukes.