Wicked Nights Page 3

  He wasn’t that predictable. Was he? He turned on his stool and reached in to steal a handful of peanuts from Piper. And...wow. She hadn’t been wearing that dress earlier. In fact, he was certain he’d never seen her sleeveless mint-green number before. Little stripes covered the fabric, making him want to look closer, or maybe it was the woman in the dress. The thing had a neck high enough to pass muster with the most conservative of audiences—apparently he’d seen all he was seeing today of Piper’s breasts—but a dearth of fabric south of her butt, stopping a good two inches above her bare knees. She wore a pair of those sandals with laces that wrapped around her ankles and calves and made him think about unwrapping. Piper dressed up was dangerous.

  She tugged the peanut bowl out of his reach. “Those are mine.”

  Her eyes laughed at him, so he snagged a second handful.

  “You bet. That’s what makes them taste so good.”

  “You don’t change.” She sighed dramatically and then raised her glass in the air. “Cheers.”

  “Right back at you.” He clinked his glass against hers. For a few minutes, they nursed their drinks companionably while the home team struck out on the television.

  Daeg slid between them, depositing two empty bottles on the bar. “Wow. Now, here’s a sight you don’t see every day. There’s only twelve inches between the two of you, and no one’s fighting.”

  “We don’t fight all the time,” Piper protested. “And you just took up all the space anyhow.”

  Daeg eyed the peanuts and she nudged the bowl toward him. “Consider it a public service,” he said.

  “Hey,” Cal protested at the peanut move. “You’re discriminating.”

  Piper flashed him a grin as Big Petey swapped out Daeg’s empties. “You bet.”

  “We get along.” Right. Like cats and dogs, oil and water...he could trot out every hackneyed, clichéd comparison and they’d all be accurate. He and Piper fought. Sparred. Lived to one-up each other.

  Piper swiveled on her stool, her knee brushing his thigh. He did his best to ignore the small contact.

  “Sometimes.” Daeg raised his bottle to Piper. “Cheers. But most of the time, the two of you are either fighting or daring each other to do stupid crap. I grew up here, too. I know exactly what the two of you got up to.”

  Piper shrugged modestly. “What can I say? Cal here is suggestible.”

  “Someone here is also a sucker for crazy dares,” Cal pointed out.

  Piper had never met a dare she wouldn’t take. She’d done all sorts of crazy things over the years. She’d gone cliff jumping at midnight (which was when he’d discovered his calling as a rescue swimmer). Ridden in a string bikini printed with the American flag down the boardwalk on the back of his Harley (one of his all-time favorite memories). She’d engaged in a very failed attempt at bison tipping, after arguing that the island’s bison and cows were more or less interchangeable, and had instead discovered that bison patties stank to high heaven. She’d made him buy her a pair of new sneakers after that one, which he’d thought was fair.

  Her grin lit up her face. “You should take more chances.”

  Over his dead body. “And you’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. Her hand rubbed the scar on her knee self-consciously. They didn’t talk about the Jet Ski accident that had put an end to her diving career. She’d come far too close to dying. Fortunately, he’d completed emergency medical training as part of his rescue-swimmer education. After he’d saved her, he’d staunched the bleeding and thanked God a major artery had been missed. The crystal clear water of Discovery Island had looked like a bad shark attack had occurred that day.

  “You up for a game of pool?” She practically jumped off the barstool as she made her getaway.

  Daeg looked at him. “Nice going, asshole. Now, go make it up to her.”

  “By letting her win?”

  Cal collected their glasses. He debated grabbing the peanuts, too, but he wasn’t a waiter and Piper was already marching across the bar toward the pool tables in the backroom. She clearly expected him to follow, and he felt guilty enough for bringing up bad memories to indulge her.

  Daeg shook his head. “No one lets Piper do anything. She just does it. She’ll win fair and square on her own.”

  That was true, too. He followed her while he chewed on that one.

  The bar’s pool table setup was ad hoc at best. Big Petey had gone for the more-is-better approach and shoehorned two pool tables into a space meant for one. The proximity didn’t leave a whole lot of room to maneuver.

  Piper grabbed a cue stick from the rack on the wall, inspected the tip and leaned her hip against the table. She was good at looking confident. He’d give her that.

  “Perfect. You’re in,” she said when he stepped into the room.

  “Piper.” Her name came out as a growl.

  “Watch,” Daeg said to Tag. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to resist the promise of a free show. “I’m predicting another crazy bet.”

  “Twenty bucks,” Cal said, knowing she wanted something more than his cash. She probably would negotiate for his shaving his head bald or singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a monkey suit when the cruise ship docked, or any other embarrassing trick she could dream up.

  “As if.” She waved a hand. “I don’t play for peanuts. Make it a hundred.”

  They didn’t usually play for cash, but Piper couldn’t be making bank at the dive shop. She’d also bought in and owned part of the place, which had probably left her cash poor. Since he had plenty of cash, he was happy to share with her. It would mean losing intentionally, but as long as he made it look good...making sure Piper was fed and happy was worth it. Despite the way they constantly butted heads, he’d never wanted her upset or miserable.

  “Ladies first.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Way to set yourself up for the loss.”

  He’d played her more times than he could count. Hell. He’d taught her to play. She was good, but he was better. He handed their drinks to Daeg and racked the balls.

  She tugged on her ear and bent over the table. He’d seen her make the lucky gesture countless times on the diving platform, right before she hurtled through the air and ripped her entry. It must have worked, because she broke straight on, the balls scattering.

  When the five ball rolled into the pocket, she straightened up. “Stripes. My favorite. It must be my lucky night.”

  * * *

  PIPER HAD NO idea why she’d gotten dressed up just to swing by Big Petey’s place. She’d been bored and lonely, though, going more than a little stir-crazy out at her place alone, so she’d hopped into her truck. Possibly, she’d headed here because she was almost certain to find Cal nursing a soda if he was at loose ends. Needling him was pure fun, plus the man seriously begged for a shaking up. Mr. Safety lived and played by the rules.

  Growing up, their crazy bets had been a regular summer occurrence. She’d come out to Discovery Island and spend two months indulging in soft-serve ice cream, motorboat rides—and daring Cal. Even then, before he’d become a U.S. Navy rescue swimmer and moved on to rescuing the more deserving than she, he’d wanted to save her from herself.

  She’d always been the bigger daredevil of the two of them. He’d rise to the occasion, but invariably remained so serious during the execution of their bets. He was a good sport when he lost, too, although he never lost by nearly as much as she wanted him to. Cal excelled at strategic thinking and, once he was in, he was all in.

  She looked over at him, taking his measure. He didn’t look worried about their current bet. “You remember the last time we played pool?”

  “Four years ago?” He sounded certain.

  “The game that ended with you skinny-dipping in the mayor’s pool?”

  He hadn’t expected to lose that particular game of pool, but he’d walked the four blocks to the mayor’s house, with her tagging along. Then he’d hopped the fe
nce, lent her a hand as she scrambled over the top, awkwardly because her knee had been a hot mess, and proceeded to nonchalantly strip off. Good times. She’d give Cal credit. He always kept his word.

  “Some things are hard to forget,” he agreed.

  She wondered if now was the time to admit she’d snapped not one but six pictures of his amazing butt as he’d jumped into the pool. She’d hung on to those pictures, too, although she planned on claiming they were blackmail material.

  Like them all, he was a little older now, but she’d bet he still looked spectacular naked. When she’d walked into the bar, he’d been staring at his empty soda glass, lost in thought. The scruff on his jaw and the faded pair of blue jeans and polo shirt weren’t military issue, but there was no mistaking him for anything but a soldier. He’d also looked alone somehow, even in the middle of the bar’s cheerful chaos, and that wasn’t right. Sliding onto the stool beside him had seemed natural.

  Imagine that.

  While she and Cal had never been enemies, they’d never been close friends, either. Between competing to one-up each other and his annoying insistence he knew best, they’d been at odds more often than not, and the days of simply hanging out together had ended with her family vacations. He’d joined the U.S. Navy; she’d gone to college and been headed for a professional diving career. All of which meant they’d met up infrequently in the past few years. And yet...it certainly hadn’t escaped her attention that they invariably rubbed each other the wrong way when they shared air space.

  Grasping the base of the cue with her right hand, she rested the stick on the edge of the table. “You might want to back up. Bodily injury isn’t on tonight’s agenda.”

  “Thank God,” Daeg muttered behind them and took a drink of what she was fairly certain was her soda.

  Spreading her legs slightly, she leaned in and lined up the tip against the cue ball. “Three ball.”

  Take that. Her shot produced a smooth, fast line to the ball, and it dropped into the pocket with a satisfying thud.

  “Seven ball.” This time, it took a softer touch to send the ball into the pocket.

  Daeg whooped. “She’s taking you to the cleaners.”

  Then, darn it, the four ball ricocheted off the table’s side, and she knocked one of Cal’s balls into the pocket.

  “My turn,” he announced, satisfaction filling his voice.

  * * *

  CAL BIT BACK a grin. That was his Piper. She’d gone all out, and her all-in strategy had backfired. Spectacularly. If he sank his seven balls, the game was his. So much for losing intentionally.

  He looked over at her. “What do you think I should buy with my hundred bucks?”

  He wouldn’t actually take her money, but teasing her was too much fun to resist. She belted out a curse and stepped away.

  “Didn’t I hear you were trying to stop cursing?” His mother had pointedly mentioned Piper’s endeavor, apparently under the mistaken belief Cal might want to try the same himself.

  He picked out a cue stick from the rack while he waited for her answer.

  Her yes, when it came, was grudging. “I’ll put a quarter in the swear jar later.”

  He didn’t know where Piper had learned to curse, but she could definitely outswear many of the SEALs he’d served with. Plus, not only was she creative, but she was loud. Her jar probably held enough quarters to fund an entire new wing for the library she’d apparently announced was the jar’s beneficiary. Over the course of the next ten minutes, he proceeded to sink his seven balls, one after the other, and Piper’s obligations to the swear jar grew more substantial.

  Tag whistled. “I shouldn’t have bet against you.”

  She stepped up behind him as he eyed his final shot. It was game over as soon as he sank the eight ball. “I’d like to propose a side bet unrelated to this game,” she said.

  This game. Not a game.

  His critical-thinking skills suddenly became nonexistent, which was probably part of Piper’s master plan. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach his ear. God knew what it looked like to the other guys in the bar. Since her front was pressed against his butt, he wasn’t complaining.

  “What are we negotiating?” His voice sounded gruff, but some things were definitely beyond his control.

  “The Fiesta contract.” She didn’t retreat. Nope. If anything, she pressed in tighter.

  “I’m not stepping away,” he warned. If he wanted to bring more veterans out here to Discovery Island to work, he had to have the additional business. No pool game got in the way of that.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to bow out...more than once.” He felt rather than saw her smile against his throat. Piper had always been honest. It was one of the things he liked about her. Her next words were a whisper meant for him alone. “Loser takes orders from the winner for one night—in bed.”

  Whoa. He hadn’t seen this bet coming.

  “You’re crazy.” Of course, he’d known that for years. Piper had never met a chance she didn’t want to take. Twice.

  “If you’re so sure you’re going to win, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  He looked down at her arms, caging him in place, and wondered if she’d thought her bet all the way through. “There are other ways to take a man to bed, Piper, if you’re desperate.”

  The bar’s noise gave them just enough privacy that the others couldn’t hear their low-voiced exchange, but this still wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in public.

  She gave a little laugh. “I’m not desperate, Cal.”

  He eyed his cue stick and wondered what his next step should be. “Then, maybe you could explain it to me.”

  “We’ve always had a certain...chemistry. Aren’t you curious?”

  Oh, yeah, his inner bad boy growled.

  “I’m going to take my shot,” he warned, all thoughts of deliberately throwing their match vanishing. “I’m winning. You don’t want to give me that kind of opening.”

  “Go right ahead,” she said, and he had no idea what she was inviting him to do. And then...she blew on his ear. Right as he shot.

  He scratched, the eight ball rolling into the pocket. Well...hell.

  She stepped away. “Too bad, Cal. You lose.”

  Scratching the eight ball was an automatic loss. Piper was clever. And at least now he wouldn’t worry about her grocery money for the week.

  “You going to pay up?” She parked her butt on the edge of the table and smiled at him. “Because I think we’re done here.”

  He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed over a hundred. Had she even been serious about their new bet?

  “You shouldn’t walk around with this much cash in your wallet. Someone might take advantage of you.”

  She hopped down and started for the door, and the sassy twitch to her hips was the last straw. He opened his mouth.

  “Drinks are on me tonight,” she called back, pouring oil on his fire.

  “Piper.” Her name shot out before he could stop himself.

  “Yeah?”

  “I accept,” he growled.

  3

  PIPER BREEZED INTO the conference room with precisely one minute to spare. Cal wondered briefly if she’d sat outside, timing her arrival for maximum impact. Probably. Piper had always loved pushing boundaries, pushing buttons.

  Particularly his buttons.

  He, on the other hand, had shown up early for the meeting with the Fiesta Cruise Lines team, tested his equipment and made small talk with the visiting executives, getting a feel for the terrain. His audience today consisted of two males, one female, all somewhere between forty and fifty-five. Sal Britten, Ben Lloyd and Margie Kemp were recreational divers who had logged some fairly adventurous dives. He didn’t anticipate any difficulty selling them on his planned program.

  Piper dropped a mammoth white tote bag onto the chair beside him. “Did you miss me? Getting anxious?”

  He shot her a look.

  She grinned back. “You
were. That’s positively sweet. I’d almost think you were looking forward to losing. To me. Maybe you’ve been thinking about it since our game earlier this week?”

  Her eyes twinkled as she needled him. She wore a white dress that stopped several inches above her bare knees. The perfectly modest V-neck showed no cleavage but drew his eye anyhow, as did the narrow brown leather belt wrapped around her waist beneath the fitted blue-and-white-striped blazer. She looked fresh and energetic. The cruise ship woman eyed her outfit and he could practically feel the two guys melting. Piper had that winning effect on people.

  “I’m not falling for your game,” he warned softly.

  “And I’m not playing.”

  She turned away to introduce herself to the Fiesta executives, rings flashing on her fingers as she worked the room. He eyed her ring finger and discovered it was bare. Of course, he couldn’t imagine who would take her on for keeps, but there were plenty of crazy men out there. Or men who’d abandon caution when they got a good look at those high-heeled shoes of hers, which made him think of bondage clubs. Not, of course, that he’d ever been to one, but he had internet, and the tan straps crisscrossing her feet were suggestive.

  She finished her meet and greet and turned back to him. Sal Britten paused in the middle of a long-winded story about his most recent shark-cage dive off the coast of Australia (Cal would have killed for a look at the man’s logbook, because he had his doubts about the man’s dive creds) and looked between them. “Do you two know each other?”

  “You bet,” he said, deliberately needling her.

  Piper’s eyes narrowed, then she winked at him. “Cal here was hoping I’d be a no-show.”

  If Piper didn’t get her butt in gear soon, they’d run late, so he ignored the wink and headed for the back of the room. “This meeting starts now.”

  She grinned at him, keeping pace with him. “Ready to lose, big boy?”

  She made everything into a competition, a game. He was tired of it, frankly, but she wouldn’t let it go. If she wanted to compete, he’d compete. He was a SEAL. He didn’t ring out. He didn’t quit. Except when it came to diving, the unwelcome voice in his head pointed out.