Wicked Nights (13 page)

curls by her dive and the breeze. She’d shoved her wet suit down to her waist and he couldn’t help but

notice her breasts in her bikini top. Two small pink triangles of fabric cupped her curves.

“You wish,” she said.

“You could try agreeing with me,” he pointed out. “In fact, you could just try listening. I’m not the bad

guy in this picture. I want to give a good demo every bit as much as you do.”

Or more. Honestly, he had no idea what to say to her. The five feet separating them on deck might as

well have been a million miles. Bridging the distance was impossible.

She sat cross-legged on the seat, arm extended along the gunwale as her body melted into the up and

down of the boat. “How are we going to make this work?”

He had no idea.

Bending over, he popped the top on the cooler by his feet and tossed her a bottle of cold water. “We

have to put together a program of two dives. We’ll use one of yours and then I’ll pick a second site.”

“We’ll pick the second site together,” she said firmly.

Her definition of
partner
was closer to
dictator.
“You picked Rose Wall.”

“You don’t like the site?”

“It’s easy,” he countered. “We take uncertified divers out there all the time. There’s no challenge to it.”

“A dive doesn’t have to be hard to be worthwhile.”

For the next fifteen minutes, they bickered amicably, until the marina came into view. The arguing kept

his mind off the dive he hadn’t made.
Good.

As he pulled into the slip, she hopped out onto the dock and helped him tie off. He wanted to say

something, but he was out of words. Piper was confident and sure as she went about the business of

docking, so even that topic of conversation was out. He turned the boat off and grabbed her gear. She was

already padding down the dock to the dunk tank, pushing the damp wet suit down her thighs with a

wriggle.

And...wow. The wet suit hit the ground and her pink bikini had his body heating right up. When she

bent over and swiped up the wet suit, his blood pressure soared. How did she manage to get under his skin

without even trying?

He contemplated that while he rinsed her booties and fins in the freshwater tank at the end of the dock.

Beside him, her arm brushing his, she dunked the wet suit.

“Where’s Carla?”

She snorted. “Probably closing up the dive shop or giving us space to kill each other.”

“Death or permanent injury would make a joint demo hard.”

“We fight,” she stated matter-of-factly.

True. “We could try
not
fighting,” he suggested.

“Yeah. And you could try not giving orders.”

“Your shoes are on your boat,” he pointed out.

“I’m tough. Walking barefoot isn’t going to kill me.”

“Uh-huh.” She’d say the same thing if she were strolling over hot coals. “Humor me.”

“Because it’s safer?” There was no missing the gentle tease in her voice.

There was nothing wrong with wanting to keep her from harm. “You want a piggyback instead? You’re

going to burn your feet on the dock.” It was shocking how hot a nail baking in the summer sun could get.

Her eyes narrowed. “The boards can’t be that hot, and I weigh a lot more than I did when I was eight.”

He plucked her gear out of the rinse tank and folded it neatly into his dunk bag. He pulled on his own

T-shirt.

“And that’s a good thing.”

Her disgruntled huff had him smiling. “Sometimes, honesty isn’t your best policy, Cal.”

She looked great. He pulled a pair of flip-flops out of his bag and tossed them to her. “Your other

choice is to use these.”

“News flash. Our feet are
not
the same size.”

“Put them on.”

“Right.” She gave an exasperated sigh but shoved her feet into the flip-flops. He had big feet. She

didn’t. She also sported a topcoat of bright green nail polish his own feet were missing. Then—yep—four

steps in, he heard the moment she kicked the shoes off.

“Busted,” he said, stopping. “Choose. Shoes or a lift.”

“I’m fine. I’m not going to burn.”

He gave her The Look when she picked up her pace. Sure enough, her feet were burning, and they still

had a ways to go. “A or B. It’s simple, Piper.”

“You’re truly volunteering to haul my butt from here to my dive shop?”

He considered her question for a moment. “To the boardwalk, yeah. And across the road. I promise not

to bite unless you ask me to.”

She stopped dead, propping her hands on her hips, legs apart. Experience had taught him that Piper

didn’t like ultimatums of any sort.

“I think I can handle you,” he said.

And...match to the gasoline. She pointed a finger at the dock. “Fine. Bend down. Squat. Do something

to close the distance between us unless you want me to scale you like a monkey on a tree.”

It figured certain more southern parts interpreted her words as an invitation. He dropped to one knee.

“Climb away.”

She twined her arms around his neck, her bare arm brushing his throat. Her position plastered her

breasts against his back, the only things between them his cotton T-shirt and her bikini. Then she wrapped

her legs around his waist and he stopped thinking.

Just for a moment because...

He stood up, trying to ignore his new view of a pair of long, muscled legs. Piper’s legs were bare and

sun-kissed, only the ridges of scars on her right knee white. And the sweet, hot heat he felt against the small

of his back?
Don’t think about it.
Piper’s swimsuit drove him crazy. It needed more fabric. Or iron plating.

“Mush,” she whispered in his ear.

* * *

her feet burning as she bounced up and down on his back like she was four years old or he was the very

best kind of pony ride. He’d dared her and she’d caved, when she could have made a mad dash for the end

of the dock and a shady spot. Her arm brushed his neck, and she realized the man had soft places, after all.

Two minutes to the end of the dock. Another minute to cross the boardwalk and reach her shop, at

which point he unceremoniously dumped her down his back. Piper had no idea three minutes could last so

long or that it was even possible to provoke Cal into being less than a gentleman.

Carla looked up from where she was checking gear when Piper ducked inside. “Please tell me you have

plans for our resident SEAL?”

Nipping into the backroom, Piper grabbed the clothes she’d left behind. Hanging around Cal in a bikini

wasn’t her best bet.

“What kind of plans?” she hollered back, shimmying out of the bikini. Panties were a good start, plus it

was wear-your-favorite-bra-to-work day, a padded number designed to give her the cleavage God had

denied her. Blue jeans, a tank top and her steel-toed boots. That had to be enough armor to keep Cal at bay.

Just in case, she shrugged on her flannel shirt because gravel sometimes kicked up on the road.

“Sexy plans,” Carla bellowed. They really needed to discuss the concept of an inside voice. The odds of

Cal having
not
heard Carla’s repartee seemed distinctly low.

She grabbed her tote bag and shoved the wet bikini inside. “I haven’t decided.”

Liar,
her lady parts screamed.
You know exactly what you want to do to him.

“I could make you a list.” Carla moved toward the windows when Piper stepped back into the front

room. “Starting with, strip him down. Although I’d leave the dog tags. I love those on my man.”

“We’re competing for the same business contract.” Darn it. Her voice got all soft and husky on the last

words.

“You also had a bet,” Carla pointed out. “And he lost.”

“So did I.” As much as it galled her.

“Take advantage of him.” Carla shoved her toward the door. “When’s the last time you had fun?”

Carla’s definition of fun was dangerous, and Piper knew she was wavering. And was lost when Carla

popped open the door and leaned out. “Are you as good as you look?”

Cal raised a brow. “I plead the Fifth.”

“Right.” Carla avoided Piper’s attempt to smack her. “Because I promise you that Piper here is.”

Cal raised a brow, all masculine amusement. Yep. He knew what Carla was up to.

“Okay.” Something inside her broke. Hot and wicked and...right. She strode toward her bike. “Get on.”

She gestured toward her Harley. The low-slung orange-and-chrome bike with its powerful engine was

her baby. She didn’t let just anyone ride with her. She hoped he appreciated the invitation.

“Where are we going?” He didn’t move, his feet still planted on her sidewalk. Carla smirked and

retreated inside the dive shop.
Wise woman.

“My house. We’ll do it there. If my bike is in front of your house overnight, your mother is bound to

drive by and notice.”

“It?”
He grinned but looked slightly dazed. She wasn’t ceding home-court advantage to Cal. Plus, his

mother would have them engaged before breakfast. Not that she was planning on sticking around until

breakfast.

“You owe me one night. I plan to collect.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “We both lost.”

“Ladies first,” she reminded him and tossed him her spare helmet. He caught it by reflex.

Throwing a leg over the bike, she patted the seat behind her. “Get on.”

He came over and then paused Yep. Cal was thinking instead of jumping. “Just so I’m clear, what

exactly are we doing here?”

“We’re having sex.” She flipped the key in the Harley’s ignition and reached for her own helmet.

Cal swung onto the seat behind her, caging her between his arms. “And we’re doing this because...?”

“To get it out of our systems. And because you lost a bet.” She gunned the motor and he groaned.

“Hold on.”

“I plan to.”

* * *

While he considered his less-than-gentlemanly impulse, he tucked his head beside hers, resting his chin on

her shoulder. The position gave him a prime view down the front of her shirt and of the black bra with

strips of blue lace. The cups pushed her breasts up and he could imagine all sorts of things he’d like to do

to her bra, starting with getting her out of it.

Piper’s family owned a ramshackle cabin on the water’s edge. Fewer than ten minutes after they’d left

town, Piper veered off the main road and took them down a gravel driveway, which spit rocks when Piper

took the final stretch too fast. She parked hard, killed the engine and slid off the bike.

“Home sweet home.”

He tried to remember how long it had been since he’d last stopped by the Clark place. The roof was

missing a few more shingles, and the paint had long since peeled off. The yard, however, still sported the

same mismatched collection of Adirondack chairs, piled with colorful cushions and surrounded by half-

melted tea lights in jars. A bug zapper connected to the house by a frayed electrical cord did its thing

overhead.
Jesus.
She was going to cause a fire.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the first fire the Clark place had witnessed. In addition to the tamer pursuits of

bonfire building and marshmallow roasting (safely down on the beach with a few cubic tons of water on

hand), Piper and her brothers had built signal fires in the barbecue after reading a book about Lewis and

Clark. They’d also experimented with setting leaves on fire with a magnifying glass, fished birds’ nests out

of the cottage’s stopped-up chimney and practiced their long jump over the fire Piper’s dad had built to

burn the fallen leaves.
Good times.
It was a miracle any of them had survived.

“Come on.” She strode away from the bike, without waiting for him, and made for the door.

He didn’t like following like a puppy on a leash. He also didn’t know why he was here. He half

expected her to turn around, yell “Gotcha,” and send him on his way. Since there was no figuring Piper out,

he settled for watching her very fine ass lead the way. The worn denim cupped her in all the right places,

and so, yeah, maybe he knew
exactly
why he was here. He and Piper were oil and water, but they had

chemistry.

When she flicked open the screen door without so much as a pause, however, he was back to seeing

red. “You didn’t lock the door?”

“It’s Discovery Island. We’re not a hotbed of urban crime.” Piper moved inside, tossing her keys onto

the side table and dropping her messenger bag on the floor. Great. Any passing moron could rob her blind

just by opening the door and reaching down.

Her place still looked pretty much the same. Slipcovered sofas flanked the stone fireplace, and stacks of

books and oil paintings covered every available inch of wall space. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave way to a

view of the ocean, and he walked over to them. The dock stretched out into the water, and she had a small

slice of beach all to herself. Roses, blue morning glory and wisteria covered every inch of the front porch.

If she hadn’t reinforced the roof, she’d need to soon.