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principles. Cat’s room was huge, yet warm and inviting. Her bed and the wicker rocker sat far across from the modernized bath, a wardrobe sat in the far corner from the bed, her dressing table and a second dresser stood sentinel at either side of the bathroom door. Dead center in the room was a charming and light circular teakwood table, displayed beautifully by a burst of sunlight from the floor-length window that opposed it.
    Cat watched suspiciously as her strange intruder walked to the dresser—uncannily as if he knew where he was going—and picked up a piece of scrimshaw. Upon the piece of ivory was delicately etched the fine lines of an old clipper ship. The stranger began to prowl again, palming the ivory and moving it in his hand with his fingers. He approached the window and stared out. Cat was about to lose her cool when he spoke again.
    “I hear you’re about to marry Jules DeVante. Is that true?”
    Cat bit her lip but couldn’t keep the impatience from her voice. “Listen, I’m getting tired of this. I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but if you don’t get out of here I’m going to scream and get Sam in to throw you out.” And, she added silently, in two seconds I’ll rip off those glasses. …
    He turned back to her—that constant, annoying, amused smile still clearly etched into his unperturbed features. “Really?” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t bother if I were you—Sam is nowhere around, and if he were, he wouldn’t throw me out. Oh—don’t touch the glasses. Remember? Curiosity killed the cat.”
    “Go to hell,” Cat snapped, irritated that he could so easily read her and chagrined with his certainty concerning her employee. So Sam did know him! And whoever this thorn in her life was, Sam respected the man.
    “Don’t count on that,” Cat snapped out. “Sam may like you, sir, but this is my bedroom—” She broke off, suddenly furious with his mystery and games. “Who the hell are you?”
    “Answer my question first.”
    “If you’re writing a book on the islands,” Cat drawled, her eyes sparkling with venom, “I don’t care to be a chapter.”
    “If you want answers from me, Mrs. Miller, you should give some.”
    “All right,” Cat replied dryly. “Jules is no secret either. Yes, I intend to marry him. You’ve got your answer. Now, who are you and what do you want? You say you don’t want the cay—quite bluntly, it’s the only thing I’ve got that comes near that sum in value. Unless, of course, you’re willing to give me some time to raise the money—”
    “Until you marry Jules?”
    Cat hesitated. “Yes.”
    He paused for a minute. “No, I’m not willing to wait.”
    “ Then what do you want ?” Cat didn’t exactly break, but her cool was gone. Her question was much more of a semi-hysterical hiss than she had intended.
    “Oh, Mrs. Miller, for all your apparent savvy, you are naive. What am I after? You—of course.”
    She was sure her jaw dropped. It felt as if it fell all the way to the floor. Lord, she was naive. But then the whole thing was so ridiculous. Incredulously, she began to laugh, recovering a modicum of brittle composure.
    “Surely you must be joking,” she managed. “I value my self-esteem, but really, I can’t imagine your considering having me for one night to be worth five hundred thousand dollars!” Cat sobered uneasily as she realized the man was still smiling.
    “You’re right,” he said, not unpleasantly. “You do look rather tempting in that towel—but one night, definitely no. I was thinking more along the lines of two months—maybe three.” He paused a second. “Really, Mrs. Miller, I do think you should sit down. You’re whiter than the sand.”
    Was she white? she wondered vaguely. Quite possibly. The realization that he was serious seemed to have drained her blood … her strength. A chill reverberated down her spine, then she blinked, mentally stiffening.
    “I don’t want to sit down. Your proposal is