Wicked Nights (9 page)

free with his body. “So, how is your knee?”

“Better.” She owed him that much. “Stiff sometimes, and it can only take so much stress before it

buckles. I appreciate what you did for me that day.”

She did, too, even if she would prefer not to talk about it.

This wasn’t the first time she’d thanked him—although, admittedly, it was only the second because, hey,

she had her limits—and he once again shrugged off her thanks, as if she’d expressed her appreciation for a

cut in line or a cup of coffee. Clearly, in Cal’s world, a rescue was just all in a day’s work, no matter how

much his rescue had meant to her. He dropped his gaze to her knee. For one charged moment, she thought

he’d reach out and touch her there.

“So no more platform diving?”

No, and the truth still stung. “The knee can’t handle the hurdle. As soon as I push off, it buckles. I

couldn’t get the air height to be competitive.”

“And being competitive mattered most?”

Pretty much. Piper’s family competed. In the pool, on the ring or on the field, the Clarks competed and

they won. Her parents didn’t know what to make of her newfound desire to own a dive shop. Her brothers

were simply, fiercely, adamantly protective. Moving to the island and temporarily putting some ocean

between her and them had been the only way to avoid suffocating. She’d had a career-ending injury, not a

deathblow, but they had a hard time seeing it that way. While she appreciated the open offer of a job on the

ranch, it wasn’t what she wanted for herself.

“I didn’t want to climb the tower and dive, knowing I’d score dead last in every meet. Plus, I would

have been cut from the team after one season anyhow.”

So she’d left.

“I tried,” he said abruptly. “I did everything I could think of to miss hitting the Jet Ski.”

Cal had driven his motorboat into the breakwater, trying to avoid the crash. If he hadn’t... Well, the

alternative was one more thing on the list of things she didn’t think about. She hadn’t known he blamed

himself in any way for the accident. That was why these things were called accidents and not on-purposes.

“I know,” she said, because she did.

“Jesus, Piper. You shouldn’t have been out there. You knew better.”

And there it was...the lecture he’d probably been storing up for the past five years. She didn’t want to

hear it now any more than she had back then, when he’d shown up in her hospital room to hear her

awkward if heartfelt thanks. She was an adult, not a child he could scold.

“I did. What I did
not
know was that Lance had spent the morning at the bar taste-testing margaritas. If I

had, I wouldn’t have gone near a Jet Ski with him. I’m not stupid.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She was taking the stairs after this meeting. He stepped

forward, ever the gentleman, and held the door for her. Since arguing over his good manners would only

point out her lack of the same, she started forward.

“Piper.” Had his mouth brushed her ear?

She kept on moving. That was the game plan, both for today and for her life.

“I never thought you were stupid, okay? Just—” He ran a frustrated hand over his head.

“Impetuous? Stubborn? Had a mind of my own?” She gave him the list over her shoulder, still heading

toward the conference room. “Check, check and check, big guy. Don’t feel sorry for me, though, because

I’m about to kick your butt in there and score your contract.”

* * *

desperately for her body. Not when he’d brought her up, bleeding and unconscious. Not when his mother

had mentioned how sweet Piper Clark would never dive competitively again. He’d felt plenty of emotions

—anger, frustration, worry and concern heading the list—but pity wasn’t one of them. Her strength defied

feeling sorry for her because she’d already picked herself up and forged ahead.

She wore another business-casual number today: a hot-pink shirtdress that—once again—stopped well

north of her knees. The neck was unbuttoned low enough to reveal a chunky necklace, some kind of

beaded flower thing studded with sparkling stones. He was 100 percent certain he’d never seen a flower like

that in nature.

She didn’t look back at him after she delivered her ultimatum, just sashayed down the hall, away from

him, leaving him to admire the sassy hitch to her walk. She’d never asked for pity or even a break. After

the accident and their uncomfortable meet and greet in her hospital room, he’d given her some space

because it seemed like the whole world had been all over her, wanting to know how she felt about losing

her berth on the national diving team. Piper had been born to compete, and she hadn’t even had the chance.

Lance’s criminal decision to drink and drive had guaranteed that, and the brief prison sentence the man had

earned couldn’t possibly begin to atone for what she’d lost.

The trash talking and competitiveness covered up something else.

He followed her into the room. Part of him actually wanted her to win, which was stupid because he

needed the cruise line’s business if he wanted to expand Deep Dive’s offerings and bring more veterans on

board to help out. Piper, however, clearly didn’t feel like throwing the contest in his favor. He didn’t think it

was the chemistry they had between them that made him feel like handing her the win. He hoped.

Ten minutes later, he wasn’t sure what to think. He stared at Sal Britten, who’d just delivered his bad

news as though it was some kind of trophy.

“So,” the man concluded, “We’re not sure which direction we want to go in. You’re both equally strong

candidates, and to be honest, the competition came down to you two. The other applicants weren’t even

close. One of you is earning the contract, but we’re not ready to make a decision today.”

Translation: the guy couldn’t make up his mind.

Cal hated indecisiveness. From the way Piper practically vibrated on her chair beside him, for once she

was in agreement with him.

“We’ll have a second round of competition,” Sal continued, oblivious to the tension in the room, “with

just the two of you competing. We’re asking you to pick two dives from your sample programs, something

new and innovative our cruisers won’t have done before. Then you’ll take us out, walk us through them.

Since you’ll be leading the program, we’d like to see how you work in the field and how well you can bring

another dive master up to speed, as sometimes one of the ship’s dive masters may be accompanying you.

We’ll do a morning dive, followed by a surface interval and then we’ll finish off in the afternoon.”

Hell. Cal had one week to wrestle through his unreasonable reaction to submerging, and that was if he

and Piper could actually work together without killing each other. He wanted to believe his diving was

possible—he wasn’t stupid enough to bet they could cooperate—but...yeah. He could guess the odds. Piper

had won and she didn’t even know it. He slid a sidewise glance at her.

She blinked, the only sign she hadn’t been expecting the news other than that betraying twitch in her

seat. She was good.

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” She sounded calm. Collected. This was going to be prime. “You

want us to make a second pitch. In the water. And you want us to work together.”

The cruise ship guy beamed. “Exactly. We can see for ourselves exactly how you’d lead a group. It’s

perfect.”

She narrowed her eyes. “But nobody wins the contract today.”

Sal nodded happily, as if he expected Piper to agree wholeheartedly. Clearly, he hadn’t done his

homework on her.

“In fact, we both
lose.
”

Sal suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. Cal stepped in before Piper said something to

completely torpedo her chances. After all, he wanted this to be an equal competition. Although, if he was

truly interested in being fair, a little voice whispered, he’d pull out now. Unfortunately, the chance to needle

Piper was too tempting.

“I’m happy to put something together for you. I’m sure Piper here feels the same way.”

Yep. She felt
exactly
the way he did. Her pretty little heel ground into his foot beneath the table. She’d

apparently remembered he wasn’t wearing work boots today. Gently, he hooked a foot around hers.

“Piper?” He shot her a smile and knocked her foot off his. “Are you in?”

“You bet.” She sounded all prickly, though.

He loved hearing it. It meant she was paying attention to him, that he’d gotten her riled up good. He

didn’t know why he enjoyed making her mad...but he always had. From the first time they’d met—which

had been at a particularly memorable picnic where Piper had “accidentally” upended her sweet tea in his lap

and then jumped off a twenty-foot ledge and into the ocean with her brothers—to, well, just about every

encounter they’d had, they’d fought. Except for last night on the swing ride. He didn’t know why he and

Piper had reacted so strongly to each other, but the chemistry thing probably had something to do with it.

So he stood up, collected his gear and exchanged a round of hearty handshakes with the cruise ship

executives. Piper worked the room beside him, clearly determined not to cede him an inch.

In step, they went out into the hallway. The hotel simply wasn’t big enough to accommodate a mass

exodus of five people. Cal hung back while the executive crowd squashed into the elevator. Piper hesitated

but then waved them on. Standing butt to groin with the people you wanted to do business with wouldn’t

make doing business any easier. There were some things he simply didn’t want to know. Apparently, he and

Piper had finally found common ground. He grinned.

She leaned back against the wall and made a small, shooing motion with her hand. “You run along,

too.”

He wasn’t sure how she intended him to leave—the elevator had barely begun to make its downward

descent and he wasn’t jumping out of any windows just to oblige her—so he settled for staring her down.

He wasn’t going anywhere, and the sooner she accepted his presence, the better. It would have helped if he

knew why he’d glued himself to her side, but he didn’t. He’d walked her in. He’d walk her out. It was that

simple. Plus, it bugged her, which was an excellent fringe benefit.

“We have to work together,” he pointed out. “Cooperating means we’re going to have to share air space

at some point.”

“You really think we can work together?” She met him glare for glare, hands propped on her hips. The

move drew his attention to the drawstring waist of her dress. She’d tied the narrow cord into a perky bow.

One tug, and he’d bet she’d come unwrapped like the best of Christmas presents.

Whoa. Down, boy.

He muttered something under his breath. Nothing about today had gone as planned. Apparently,

miracles still happened, however, because she looked away and shrugged.

“I have my doubts.” She toed off her shoes with a little groan of relief that shot straight to his groin

because he had to imagine she’d make the same sexy sounds in bed. Sex clearly wasn’t on her mind,

however, because she fished in her bag and produced a pair of battered neon-pink flip-flops she slipped

onto her bare feet. “So much better. I’m taking the stairs.”

He stared at her toes. She dropped her heels into her bag.

“You don’t want to wait for the next car?” His voice sounded husky. This was Piper, he reminded

himself. Letting her star in his erotic fantasies would make working with her even more complicated.

She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher—other than the absolutely-not portion of it—and opened the

door to the stairwell. They were apparently taking the stairs.

He strode after her because it was hurry up or get left behind. Piper was a woman on a mission. She

tackled the steps with the determination his sisters used on a new gallon of ice cream. The soles of her flip-

flops slapped against the bottom of her feet. She sure was in a hurry to get somewhere.

“There a fire someplace?” he asked, settling in by her side. Having longer legs was an advantage.

“I can’t believe they couldn’t choose,” she burst out, ignoring his question.

“Life’s a bitch,” he agreed. Her hair brushed his shoulder as she stomped across the landing. Their

footsteps echoed in the stairwell loudly enough to be heard halfway to China.

She stopped abruptly and he almost body slammed her. Thank God for instincts honed by military

training. He snagged the handrail and waited.

“You didn’t win,” she said, sounding absolutely sure of herself.

“Neither did you,” he snapped. “Does the lack of a clear-cut winner from today’s meeting bother you?”

She pursed her lips. He wanted to smooth out the crinkle with his finger. Or his tongue. Apparently, he

wasn’t picky.

Piper,
he reminded himself.

She’d probably bite his finger off. He didn’t kid himself. Whatever twisted reason had prompted her to