She also had the tanned skin and gold sun streaks in her hair to prove her authenticity.

A wave of heat washed over him. Funny, he’d never found the outdoorsy girls to be his type before. Most of the women he’d dated were professionals-with a few idle heiresses thrown in. But even though Allie was out to fleece him, he found her lack of pretense refreshing and appealing. No makeup, no long lacquered nails, no five-hundred-dollar shoes or salon highlights. Just five-foot-three of pure woman.

Gradually he loosened his grip on the wheel. He hated to admit it, but she was right. He was acting like a macho jerk.

“Do you know where to find snapper?” she asked.

He backed away from the controls, holding his hands out in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, fine. Today you’re the captain and I’m the first mate. But tomorrow we’ll trade.” He would watch everything she did and reassure himself he was perfectly capable. How hard could it be?

ALLIE STEAMED AS SHE GUIDED the Dragonfly out of its slip and across the no-wake area around the marina. Did Cooper Remington honestly think he could just waltz in here and start running charter excursions on childhood memories?

It was tempting to let him have the Dragonfly. Let him sink the business, if not the boat, before his first season closed.

But she couldn’t walk away. Everything she had, everything she’d built over the years, was tied up in this business. All the money she’d saved to buy her own boat, she’d sunk into the Dragonfly to keep her afloat since Johnny’s illness set in. She couldn’t face starting from scratch.

She could probably get a job with one of the other charter services. Yeah, they were all competitors, but friendly ones. Everybody in Port Clara-and up and down the Texas coast, for that matter-knew she had the experience, not to mention an uncanny sixth sense for finding the fish. Her boat might be humble, but her customers always left with full coolers.