Dalton had always had trouble sleeping. He was plagued by nightmares and whenever he woke in the night, he had unpleasant memories to deal with. Memories that were far more vivid now he was back on Lantana.

Here he’d suffered through the longest day and night of his life. No, it had been the longest year of his life. Not just the terrible hours spent cowering as the cyclone roared around them, tearing down everything his parents had worked so hard to build. But the days after when things were at their worst. And the weeks and months after that, when he and Tiny had needed their father more than anything, and he’d drawn further and further away.

The memories were strongest in the darkness of the night. Stronger still with the lingering scent of Lantana flowers and the sound of the waves filling his head.

Last night he’d been especially restless, so this morning he’d headed out just after dawn to collect more flowers for Tiny’s bedroom and chase the bad memories away. He’d been cutting frangipanis from the bushes near the beach when he’d seen Rosa doing jump kicks, and put the flowers down to investigate.

She was so slender, and looked so earnest flinging herself around, he couldn’t have walked away if he’d tried. Everything about her had captured him. From the frown of concentration creasing her brow, to the way she stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth, and the little grunts of effort she made when she jumped.

Now he had his arm looped around Rosa’s neck and the last of his nightmares were long gone. In fact, he had the opposite problem. His thoughts were a little too good.

Rosa’s body might be slight and willowy, but her scoop-necked T-shirt hinted of breasts that were perfectly formed. And her shorts were molded around exactly the kind of lean curves he loved.

That made being this close to her a definite problem. Even the simple contact of her hip bumping against his thigh fired neurons directly into the pleasure center of his brain. Maybe self-defense training wasn’t supposed to be this arousing, but he kept having to picture himself underneath a cold shower.

It wasn’t only her body that was at fault. At least she was wearing sunglasses, so her sometimes-grey, sometimes-green eyes weren’t so distracting. But when she was learning a new move, she pursed her lips into a tight shape that reminded him of a forties film star. And that look of total concentration before she threw herself into a new position just about slayed him.

But he couldn’t afford to be so distracted. Tomorrow, he’d probably be black and blue. What she lacked in height and weight she more than made up for with enthusiasm.

“There are a few ways you can break my hold.” He dragged his mind back to the lesson with an effort. “An elbow in the guts is probably the simplest.”

She swiveled as she tried it, and he caught a view down her T-shirt that made the cold shower in his imagination start steaming.

“You’re too tall.” She made it sound like he’d grown to his current height with the sole aim of annoying her.

“Keep yourself bent forward if you can. If you lean back, I’ll be able to lift you off your feet.”

She jerked so far forward that he was forced to lean in. Now his front was pressed hard against her back. Her perfect ass cheeks were against his rapidly-stiffening cock. Shit.

He let go and stepped back. “You’ve got the idea.” His voice came out strained.

“You’ve had enough?” Her lips pursed into that film-star pout. “I was going to ask what I could do to get out of trouble if I did lean back instead of forward. Is there a way to break your hold if you manage to lift me off my feet?”

The picture that flashed through his mind was of him lifting her, but she was facing toward him, not away, and she had her legs around his hips.

“Time for breakfast.” He forced another jet of cold water into his mental picture. It only made things worse. Now she had her legs around him, and she was wet all over, with her T-shirt plastered to her body.

“Okay.” She gave a rueful smile and rubbed her forearm. “I think you got me pretty good with that arm-lock. I’m a little sore.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He reached guiltily for her arm, but she waved his hand away.

“Good thing I’m tougher than I look,” she said.

“No kidding.” He turned his own arm over to show her a red mark where her elbow had caught him. He’d underestimated her, and he’d have the bruises to prove it.

She grimaced. “Sorry. Maybe I’m used to getting physical because I used to play a lot of sports. And up until six months ago, I went for a run most days.”

“Why’d you stop?” he asked, starting up the beach toward where he’d left the flowers he’d been collecting. “You got injured?”

“No. It wasn’t safe anymore.” She walked beside him and waved one hand dismissively. “Long story.”

“Is it related to the reason you wanted to get out of Sydney?”

She glanced at him, startled, then flushed. “Um. I think I’d like to start running again. Any good tracks on the island?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. Should he push his question? Only he already knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t answer unless she was good and ready. What was the word for what she had? Brass balls? No, chutzpah was a better word. She practically glowed with it.

“There’s a path that goes across the island to another beach,” he said. “At a medium pace, it’s about forty minutes there and back.”

They reached the frangipani bush and he bent to collect the cut blooms he’d left there. When he straightened with them, she was giving him a puzzled frown.

“What are they for?”

“Tiny’s room. The hospital gave me a lotion to rub into her leg, to help with stiffness in the muscle, but she doesn’t like the way it smells. The flowers help mask it.” He started walking to the staff kitchen, and she fell into step beside him. “There are other lotions I can use, but getting them into Fiji is a problem. Customs are refusing to release them.”

“So, you pick flowers for her instead.” For some reason, she seemed surprised.

“You’ve got a better idea?”

“No, I just…” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

They reached the staff kitchen and he held the door open for her. In the kitchen, cereals, bread, and fruit had been left on the counter.

Rosa went to the bench and picked up a box of cereal. “I’m starving. Navy SEAL training is kind of exhausting.”

“How did you learn those moves?” He pulled a couple of bowls out of the cupboard.

“From YouTube.”

“You watched videos?” he asked as she poured the cereal. “That’s it? I thought someone must have been training you.” His reward was a smile that gave him a glimpse of her dimples, the right cheek deeper than the left. The kind of smile that would make a corpse want to stand up and dance.

“Is that a compliment?” she asked.

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He put their filled cereal bowls on the dining table and watched her slide into a chair. It was hard not to watch the way she moved. Something about her kept drawing his eye. She had charisma as well as chutzpah. And the elegant grace of someone who was used to being physical.

“I want to see Tiny again today,” she said. “I only stayed for a minute or two yesterday, but I’d like to talk to her about the wedding and find out what’s been done.”

“Don’t push her. She has memory gaps, and I don’t want you to upset her.”

Rosa stopped with her cereal spoon half-way to her mouth and frowned. “Of course I’m not going to upset her. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Good question. As much as he was starting to like Rosa, he couldn’t exactly trust her. “You’re the kind of person who went to see her after I asked you not to,” he reminded her.

“Because I was worried about her. I didn’t come all this way just to take a stranger’s word that she was okay.”

“I’m her brother.”

“And I’m one of her closest friends.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she narrowed hers right back. Giving as good as she got. Frank had once accused Dalton of being intimidating, but if that were true, she was impervious to it.

“Fine,” he said finally. “Ask her. But be gentle. As bad as her physical problems are, the hardest part is the way she’s suffering emotionally.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s had a serious brain injury. It’s not easy for her to adjust, and she’s been struggling. She doesn’t want to accept that things have permanently changed.”

Rosa pushed some cereal around in her bowl. Her expression was grim. “It hasn’t been long since it happened. She could get better.”

“With the right treatment, she could improve a lot,” he agreed. “But some of the damage is permanent. She won’t ever get back to where she was before the stroke.”

“You think she’ll be able to paint again?”

He gave a half shrug and chewed a mouthful of cereal, mostly to avoid having to answer, but also because he was hungry. The workout had got his heart rate up, and not just because of the view Rosa had flashed him down the front of her T-shirt. Her skin glowed from the exercise, and her hair was as messy as if they’d been working out in bed. Which, come to think of it, would have been an appealing way to spend the morning.

“I won’t push her about the wedding,” Rosa promised. “Whatever still needs to be done, I’ll make sure the bride and groom have a great day. Fight training was exactly what I needed this morning. It’s cleared my head, so I’m ready to work hard.”

“Why do you want to learn how to fight?”

“In case of pirates.”

Her unexpected answer, delivered matter-of-factly as though she were serious, startled him into a chuckle. “You’re not like most people, are you?” he said.

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Do you want to be like everyone else?”

“Not really.”

“Then it’s a compliment.”

She watched him chew some cereal, probably trying to decide whether he was being serious in return. After a moment, she asked, “What do you usually do for a living?”

She’d put a spoonful of cereal in her mouth when he answered. “I buy companies in trouble and save them, if I can, or break them down to sell their assets for a profit.”

She choked, coughed and thumped her chest, then gulped a glass of water. It took her a while to be able to speak again. When she did, she pointed her spoon at him as though passing sentence. “I was right to worry about pirates. You raid floundering ships and steal their treasure.”

“I don’t steal anything. I buy the companies for a discounted price.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that so, Captain Plunder? By the way, that’s your pirate name.”

“You’re giving me a pirate name?” He shook his head, trying not to smile. He’d never met someone who’d give her new boss a pirate name one day into the job. Frank had been completely wrong, because apparently, he wasn’t even a little intimidating.

“If the name fits,” she said airily. “Where do you usually do your pirate plundering?”

“Not in any specific place. I travel all over Australia, and sometimes to the US.”

“Steering your ship wherever the wind takes you?”

“You could say that.” Although he’d bet she was the only person in the world who’d put it that way.

“You must have somewhere that’s more like home than anywhere else, though?”

“Not really. I have apartments in several cities, and regular hotel suites in others.”

Rosa swallowed her last mouthful of cereal and took her plate to the kitchen. He’d thought she was finished, but she poured more cereal into her bowl then sat back down.

“Do you see much of your aunt and uncle in Sydney?” she asked, digging into her second helping of breakfast.

If Rosa had been friendly with Tiny at school, she must know the aunt and uncle he and his sister had been sent to live with all those years ago. The aunt and uncle who’d kept Tiny and shipped him off to boarding school. Of course he didn’t visit them.

“You still live in Sydney?” he asked, avoiding the question.

“Not anymore. I hope I’ll get to stay on Lantana Island for a long time. However long it takes for Tiny to come back, I’ll keep the place humming for her.” She grinned. “I love it here already. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited.”

He scooped up the last of his cereal, taking his time to eat it. Now wasn’t the time to tell Rosa she’d most likely lose her job when the resort was sold. He hadn’t told any of the staff he was selling Lantana yet. Better to wait until the deal was done and he knew the buyer’s plans for the place.

“There were female pirates, did you know?” she said. “I’ve been reading about Anne Bonny. She wore six flintlock pistols in her belt, and when she fought, she fired a pistol with one hand and swung her cutlass with the other.”

“Is that where all this talk of pirates came from?”

“I didn’t think I’d get to meet a real one. But here you are, Captain Plunder. Larger than life.”

Her right cheek dimpled and the green sparkled in her changeable eyes. Her smile was so open, so genuine, it broke right through his reservations. No man in the world could resist smiling back.

“Arrr,” he said, rolling the ‘r’ and putting on an accent that was almost certainly dreadful. “This be rum on me cornflakes, lassie.”

She snorted, almost spitting out her mouthful of cereal before managing to swallow it. “A Scottish pirate, no less.” She wiped milk from the corner of her mouth with her fingers. “I had no idea the Scots sailed the high seas.”

“Did ye not? Arrr, we made all the witnesses walk the plank.”

Her laugh was as uninhibited as her smile had been. He could do nothing but stare as his god-awful accent died in his throat. She was lovely. And she had to be more spell-caster than pirate to make him forget the bad temper that had caused him to stomp around glowering at everyone since he’d arrived.

If she had a pirate name, it had to be Captain Disarming.

He stood up, scraping his chair back, and took his plate to the sink. Best get out of here before he fell any more under her spell.

“You’ve finished already?” Rosa motioned to her own bowl. “Training made me hungry. Or maybe it’s the fresh sea air. I’ve eaten more since I’ve got here than I have in months.”

“I have a lot of work to do.” Not just preparing for the biggest deal of his career, but doing what he could to tidy the resort up. He cleaned his plate and was walking to the door when she spoke again.

“Captain Plunder?”

He turned, not sure whether he should tell her not to call him that, or give in to his urge to laugh.

“I just wanted to say thanks.” She gave him a half smile that was every bit as stunning as the full-sized version had been. “It was better practicing self-defense with you than training on my own.”

The way she sat with her slender body drawn up straight and her chin lifted made his breath catch. She might look fragile, but she was a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound firebrand.

He managed a brief nod. “Same time tomorrow?” he heard himself ask. Then frowned at himself. Where had that question come from?

Her right cheek dimpled. “Same time tomorrow,” she agreed.