Wicked Nights (10 page)

suggest the bet, it wasn’t because she was attracted to him. Knowing her, it was a power play or some other

complicated move in this game she insisted on playing with him. He was the only one who had the urge to

change the rules.

“We had a bet. Not knowing who the winner is doesn’t bother you?” she demanded, answering his

question with one of her own.

It absolutely did. Piper was a sensual temptation, and he found it harder and harder to resist her. He also

enjoyed beating her, if only because it made her so adorably mad. That probably wasn’t what she wanted to

hear right now, however.

He opened his mouth and she cocked a hand on her hip. Waiting for him to admit that, yes, he enjoyed

competing with her. Fighting with her. Doing...other things with her. The words that came out of his mouth,

however, weren’t part of any master plan to win the Fiesta contract.

“If we’re talking about the bet, it’s safe to say we both lost.”

She blinked once before regrouping.

“Good.” She glared up at him, stepping into him and backing him up against the stairwell’s wall. He

loved the way she crowded him. “Because you owe me and I plan on collecting.”

The erotic jolt that went through him should have warned him. Whatever his head thought, his body

didn’t see Piper as the enemy.

7

CARLA, PIPER’S ASSISTANT, part-time dive instructor, gal Friday and supplier of oatmeal chocolate

chip cookies, looked up when Piper slammed into the dive shop, the door rattling in its frame. The woman

was a gem, and Piper worried sometimes that she would head out for greener pastures—or places with

more challenging dive sites. So far, however, Carla had stayed put and Piper was grateful. When Carla

raised an inquiring brow, Piper flipped the open sign to closed. It wasn’t like they were busy anyhow.

Which was part of the problem. The darn economy followed by a bad summer storm had definitely put

a dent in their business. In the wake of the storm, several cruise ships had skipped the island altogether, and

the island’s hotels had been hit by a second storm of cancellations. Discovery Island had scrambled to clean

up and make repairs quickly, but still, all of those things took time—and dive bookings had been drastically

reduced.

Carla had screwed her blond hair up on top of her head in a messy bun anchored by a flotilla of pencils.

Small curls flew every which way, giving the woman a deceptively cute appeal. Carla was as lethal as a

shark. She held up a bottle of sparkling apple cider, thumb poised to pop the cap off. “Are we celebrating?

Did you kick Cal’s butt?”

Piper shook her head and tossed her heels across the room. So much for making a powerful statement

at the Fiesta meeting.

“Commiserating. Shoot.” Carla poured cider into paper cups, passed one to Piper and took a swig. “We

need alcohol. Margaritas. These bubbles aren’t commiseration material.”

Piper was in full agreement with her, but surely something would occur to her. There was always a way

to rescue a bad dive.

“We tied. We both lost. Take your pick.”

Carla muttered something, and Piper pointed toward the swear jar stashed underneath the counter.

They’d had plenty of conversations about not cursing like a trucker in the workplace, as the Mason jar full

of quarters testified. Piper was just as guilty in that department as Carla. The local library would be able to

afford an addition when they made their donation.

“We didn’t get the contract.” Carla fished a quarter out of her pocket and added it to their collection.

“Not yet.” Piper took a drink. The cider was warm, and alcohol was definitely called for in this

situation. “But we will.”

She gave Carla the highlights as she ducked into the backroom and switched her business casual for a

pair of denim cutoffs and a tank top, restoring the flip-flops when she was dressed. Her feet practically

cried in relief, even as her knee gave a warning throb.

“Typical guys. They can’t choose between you and Cal, so they offer to date both of you before

committing.”

“There was a woman executive,” Piper pointed out in the interests of fairness when she came back out

front.

Carla finished her cup and eyed the bottle. “That stuff is definitely no substitute for the real thing.”

“It was cheap.” And she was out of cash unless she robbed the swear jar, a low to which she had so far

refused to sink. Groceries for the month were going to be noodles and whatever was kicking around in the

pantry, unless she actually used Cal’s hundred bucks.

“So, Cal Brennan is still the competition?”

“Unfortunately.”

Carla settled back, waving her cup. “Why unfortunately?”

“He’s good,” Piper said morosely, hopping up onto the counter. “Really good. He had them eating out of

the palm of his hand as he walked them through imaginary adventure dives. They were practically

salivating at the thought of exploring caves and training like a U.S. Navy SEAL.”

Cal had had her hanging on his every word, too, although only partly because adventure diving was

precisely the kind of thing she’d enjoy. Most of her attention span had had everything to do with the hot

SEAL doing the presenting. The sensation of his eyes moving over her body gave her the kind of feeling

she got when was diving or jumping. An adrenaline rush, followed by a familiar quiver.

No quivering.

“You’ll win.” Carla sounded certain. “Your dives are fun. Not everything has to be a mental marathon.”

Piper appreciated the vote of confidence.

“So, what are the next steps?”

“I take them out on a sample dive program. I’ll do a few dry runs this week and next. Make sure I’m

ready to go and there’s no room for improvement.”

Carla reached up and knocked her paper cup against Piper’s. “Cal won’t know what hit him.”

“He probably won’t mind,” she said. She’d always enjoyed a good competitor, but Cal was in a league

of his own. Not only was he a former U.S. Navy SEAL, but he’d also put together a compelling

presentation.
She
wanted to go out diving with him now. Or do other, more personal things. “Plus, he

doesn’t play fair.”

He’d made her go first, although she’d more than evened the playing field by teasing him while he

presented.

“He’s a Navy SEAL. Doesn’t that make him a bona fide hero?”

“In a war zone, yes. In the boardroom? Not so much.” Of course, she hadn’t been playing fair herself,

but she’d keep those details to herself.

“So...” Carla lobbed the paper cup at the recycle bin. “Was it as horrific as my diver last month, who

pulled off his wet suit and his speedo in one go? ’Cause the guy was at least sixty pounds overweight and

had never heard of manscaping. My eyes are still burning. Cal Brennan is pretty hot.”

“It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“And if it was, you’d win,” her assistant said loyally.

Piper performed a pageant wave and wiped away a mock tear. “Thank you. I’ll pick up my tiara later.”

“But he is, right?”

Unfortunately, Carla was right. “On a scale of one to ten, he’s a definite ten. Maybe even an eleven if he

keeps his mouth shut.”

“Jump him.” Carla shrugged. “Get him out of your system.”

Piper didn’t want to even
think
about how long it had been since she’d had sex. One of the downsides

to living on an island with four thousand people was the minuscule size of the dating pool. Casual summer

hookups weren’t really her thing, which had further limited her options. Plus, she hadn’t dated much in

high school or college. A few casual nights out here and there—practice guys, as her teammates called

them. She’d been too busy training and competing to do anything else. If she needed a guy for a formal

event, she borrowed one from the swim team and called it good. Getting Cal out of her system shouldn’t

have sounded so appealing.

“I’m not attracted to Cal.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t summon a shred of proof to back up the

statement.

“Not attracted to him? Or you just don’t like him? Because you can totally have sex with him without

liking him.”

True. “Yeah. About that.”

“You already did!” Carla fist-pumped. “You go!”

She shot her friend a look. “Absolutely not. There has been no sex. But I may have made a teeny tiny

bet with him.”

Carla stared at her expectantly. “Don’t stop there. Keep talking.”

“I may have suggested that the person who loses the Fiesta contract takes orders from the winner for

one night. In bed.” She thumped her head against the counter. “When will I learn to think before I speak?”

Carla grinned. “Probably never. You might want to plan on winning.”

Piper threw her cup at Carla. Unfortunately, she’d done nothing
but
think about Cal and getting him into

bed.

* * *

When Cal had brought his two former teammates over to the island, they’d vowed to work out together five

times a week, putting their bodies through their SEAL paces. They might not be active duty anymore, but

they’d stay in fighting form. That was one thing Cal could still control.

Now, four miles into their eight-mile run, he was mentally counting down the seconds until they got to

the swimming portion of the day’s workout. So far, he’d managed to keep his fear of submerging under

wraps. Or, rather, he’d worked around it well enough that Daeg and Tag were pretending they hadn’t

noticed anything. Eventually, however, they’d point out the obvious. Cal didn’t dive.
Ever.

Daeg had come back to Discovery Island at the beginning of the summer when Cal had put out his call

for help and now, two months later, it looked as though the man wasn’t going anywhere. He’d rescued

Danielle Andrews from the tropical storm that had passed near the island; she’d rescued him from some

inner demons of his own. Cal smelled wedding bells in the not-so-distant future. Cal was glad his former

teammate had signed on to the dive business permanently, and he was looking forward to bringing more

former SEALs out to the island just as soon as he could.

“I made a few calls,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the path in front of them. “To see if there

was anything for sale on Discovery Island. When we bring the new guys on board, we’re going to need

more gear and possibly a second site to gear up the divers. With the contract, we’d definitely be in the

black, and we could expand and start a second dive shop.”

He mentioned the name of a business brokerage firm, and Daeg nodded, but didn’t slow his pace.

“Did they have anything for you?”

“Yeah. There’s at least one place on the island where the half owner is looking to sell his share. I’ve

made an offer, contingent on our getting the Fiesta contract.”

Daeg whistled. “Which shop?”

He’d read his email twice to make sure he hadn’t misread. “Dream Big and Dive,” he admitted.

“Piper’s place?”

“Apparently it’s only half hers.” Although he had a pretty good idea how she felt about it. “The broker

said she has first position to buy if she can line up the funding, but she hasn’t managed to do so, yet.”

“Does she know we’re bidding to buy out her business partner?”

“Hell, no. I didn’t know until today myself,” he pointed out. “Plus, there’s already another offer on the

place that we’d have to beat. Fiesta also wants a hands-on demo in the field before they’ll finalize the

contracts. I’ll tell her when it’s a done deal. If she wins, she’ll exercise her option to buy anyhow, and it’ll

be a moot point.”

Cal focused on the ground in front of him. The trail was rocky, small pieces of gravel crunching

underneath his feet. One misstep, and he’d go over the edge and down the bluff into the horseshoe-shaped

bay below. In another hundred yards, the trail would bend back toward the sand, but from here he could

still see the southernmost end of Pleasure Pier.

“Four-mile marker,” Tag barked, pounding up behind them. Tag ran the way he’d flown rescue

choppers, going all out and then coaxing still more speed from some unseen reserve, right when Cal was

sure his friend would crash and burn. Every day had gone the same way when the three of them had been

part of the Spec Ops rescue team stationed in San Diego. Fighting, swimming, flying—they’d done it all

together, and there were no other guys Cal trusted more to have his back.

These guys were the heart and soul of Deep Dive. Sure, there was friendly rivalry, but they’d had each

other’s backs since Hell Week and their induction into the Navy SEALs. When he’d left the unit and started

the dive program on Discovery Island, he’d wanted to bring his team with him. They got the importance of

diving and diving well. If he expanded Deep Dive, he could bring in more veterans. To do that, however,

he needed more business and more shop space, hence the offer he’d put in through the broker. Without the