The Pirate & The Adventurer & The Cowboy

PROLOGUE

    ^ »

    "N o, absolutely not. You cannot make me get on that plane. I won't go." Katherine Inskip braced herself in her chair and glared at the two women across the small table. Behind her, the glass panes of the airport lounge window vibrated as a jet roared past on the runway, then climbed into cloudy Seattle skies. "There are laws against this sort of thing. This is illegal impressment or something. You can't do it."

    "Save the drama for your next book, Kate. You are going to board that plane in fifteen minutes." Margaret Lark, sleek and cool as always, checked the expensive black-and-gold watch on her wrist. Her voice was calm and authoritative. She had spent several years in the corporate world and could still dominate a meeting when the occasion arose. "Sarah and I have discussed the matter thoroughly and we both agree that you need a vacation. Your doctor has told you that you need a vacation. Even your agent said it might not be a bad idea and you know things are bad when your agent thinks you should take a little time off work."

    "It's true, Kate. You know it is." Sarah Fleetwood, on the same side of the table and the argument as Margaret, smiled gently, her fey eyes soft with concern. "You're much too tense and nervous lately. You've said yourself that you're not sleeping well. And your appetite is fading. Why, you haven't felt like making pizza or tacos for weeks, and that's not like you. It's the stress. You've got to do something about it."

    Kate scowled at her. "So what if I'm a little stressed? I've just come off a ten-day, ten-city book promotion tour. What do you expect? I'm tired, that's all."

    "It's more than just jet lag from the tour," Margaret said. "It's been building up for some time. Kate, you've become a workaholic and if you don't take care of yourself, you're going to pay a price."

    "What's wrong with being a workaholic? I like my work. In fact, I love it. You know I do. I'm not happy unless I'm writing. I'll go nuts if you take me away from it."

    "There's nothing wrong with enjoying your writing," Sarah assured her in soothing tones. "Margaret and I love writing, too. That's not the point."

    "Well, what is the point?" Kate demanded, feeling cornered. "I'm happy just the way I am, I tell you. Happy, do you hear me?" She slapped the small table for emphasis. "I've never been so damned happy."

    "The point is that you need to start leading a more balanced life," Margaret announced. "You've been going at a hundred-mile-an-hour pace for far too long. Since your divorce, in fact. You need a break and now that Buccaneer's Bride is safely on the stands, you can afford the time to take one. Trust me on this, Kate. When I was working in the business world, I saw plenty of examples of what overwork and stress can do to people. Not a pretty sight." She dug an airline ticket envelope out of her black Italian-leather handbag. "You need to learn how to take time out to relax and enjoy life."

    "And AmethystIsland sounds like the perfect place for you to do just that," Sarah announced. Her unsettlingly insightful gaze rested on Kate's set face for a few seconds. Then she reached out and took the ticket envelope from Margaret and pushed it into Kate's fingers. "Margaret and I have looked into this thoroughly. The place has everything: palm trees, warm, tropical seas, a first-class luxury resort, papayas, coconuts…"

    "I hate coconuts," Kate pointed out desperately. "You know I do. Remember how I wouldn't eat any of those cookies you made last week because they had those yucky little bits of coconut in them?"

    "So you'll eat papaya, instead," Margaret said with a shrug. She glanced at her watch again and stood up, slender and chic in her tailored blazer and fine wool slacks. "Time to head for the departure lounge."

    Sarah jumped up beside Margaret, boundless enthusiasm lighting her elfin features. "On your feet, kiddo. You're on your way to paradise and you're going to love it. I just know it."

    Kate looked up at her beseechingly and knew she was defeated. It was sometimes possible to argue logically with Margaret, but when Sarah got that expression of intuitive certainty in her deep, knowing hazel eyes, nothing could change her mind. Small, delicate and vibrant, Sarah always made Kate think of a brightly plumed hummingbird. Today, dressed in a lemon-yellow sweater and black-and-white striped jeans, she looked more than ever like some small, exotic bird.

    "Sarah, I know you and