Wicked Nights (17 page)

* * *

CAL DIDN’T GIVE up control—ever—and he’d certainly never played bondage games. Or any kind of

games. Piper challenged those rules, just like she challenged everything else. Her wicked bet had him out of

control. And the problem wasn’t just the sexual chemistry that made it hard to focus on anything but luring

Piper back to bed—it was their fundamentally different approaches to diving. To life. To everything.

He did plenty of thinking while he showered, per Her Highness’s royal command. He wasn’t stupid

enough to refuse the offer. These old cabins had notoriously flaky water heaters and he preferred hot water.

Piper might have returned to the island two years ago—thank you island gossip—but she’d clearly been

doing some redecorating since her arrival. The small bathroom had a new ceramic-tile floor and a sea-

foam-green coat of paint. Her selection of shampoos and soaps were correspondingly girlie, and he either

tolerated smelling like a fruit bowl when he got done or went dirty.

Using her shampoo caused trouble in the wanting-Piper department. She’d specified one night but, as

he squirted apple-scented shampoo into his hand and lathered up, parts of him wanted to abandon the

shower and go after her. Maybe she’d have downed enough coffee to shake the grumpiness and make her

amenable to going back to bed. He didn’t know what she wanted. Hell. He didn’t know what
he
wanted,

just that the Fiesta Cruise Lines folks had put both of them in an untenable position and he didn’t see any

way out of it.

She wanted to provide resort dives to new divers, while he wanted to focus on technically challenging

dives. His business plan would offer dives for the select and the best of the best—while she believed

everyone should have a chance to slip underwater and
see.
This wasn’t kindergarten. Not everyone left with

a gold sticker and a trophy, but convincing Piper would take a miracle. She was one of the most stubborn

people he’d ever met.

Of course, her willfulness also extended to bed, and he had no complaints about
that
at all. He was just

starting to heat back up again remembering last night when the water temperature proved the plumbing

hadn’t improved with time. The pipes groaned, wheezed and then drenched him in icy water. The

unexpected cold shower took care of his erection, so he got out and toweled off, dropping his used towel

into the empty linen basket. After pulling his clothes back on, he moved out in search of Piper, who’d

clearly bolted with no intention of returning. She wasn’t in the bedroom or the kitchen, although both

rooms bore clear signs of her passing, since Piper wasn’t a tidy person.

She’d accomplished her mission in the kitchen. The room smelled of coffee beans and fresh brew,

although there was no Piper. He poured himself a cup from her Mr. Coffee and cleaned up the damage.

There was sugar on the counter, along with an open carton of half-and-half, a partially eaten muffin, which

couldn’t possibly sustain life, and a dirty spoon. It wasn’t hard to figure out where she’d gone. Not only

was the porch door open, but she’d left a little trail of disaster behind her, including an abandoned

newspaper, muffin crumbs and the coffee cup sitting on an end table by the windows. Since the cup was

still warm and therefore presumably fresh carnage, he snagged it, because she clearly was the kind of

woman who, morning person or not, needed her caffeine in order to be civilized. He wasn’t going to push

his luck.

When he stepped outside, she was parked in an Adirondack chair down on the scrap of beach. Little

waves teased her flip-flops, but she didn’t seem to mind that her toes were definitely getting wet or that the

ocean had attained a balmy fifty-five degrees.

He nudged her shoulder with his hip and offered her the cup. She traded him a smile for the mug, so he

was already in the black for the day. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected after her sudden flight from the

bed.

“So,” she said, taking a slurp from her mug, which had him wincing. “What’s your plan for the day?”

Asking, not telling. On the other hand, she’d said “your” and not “our,” so clearly, he still had his work

cut out for him.

“Because I thought we should discuss next steps on the diving proposal,” she said, as if they were

purely business acquaintances and last night had never happened.

It was all very civilized. He half expected her to whip out a planner and start penciling him in. She

obviously wasn’t fighting the same urges he was. To reach out and put his mouth on her neck. To run his

fingers down her arm and tug her back into bed with him. Nope. She was all business.

“We need to finalize our sites,” she said. “We should probably coordinate our diving partners, as well,

decide which boat we’re going to take—that kind of stuff.”

Going back to bed was apparently off the table. Good to know. “Your plan sounds fine,” he said gruffly.

“Okay, good. We’ll reconvene on Monday.” She gave him a tentative smile.

Monday was two days—and nights—from now.

“Come with me now.” He blurted the words out without thinking. “You know my mother. She does

Saturday-morning brunch and there’s always room for one more.”

“Why?” Piper asked.

He ran a hand over his head. “Because you need to eat? And my mother cooks enough food for a small

army?”

He had a place of his own just down the road from his mother, but he usually ate at her house. It was a

win-win situation. He kept an eye on his mother; she fed him. He hadn’t been home long enough to worry

about dating. It wasn’t like he had time, plus he wasn’t exactly relationship worthy at the moment. Of

course, Piper had made it perfectly clear she was using him only for his body. He knew he was grinning but

he’d just had the best sex of his life last night and he was in a good mood. He wasn’t letting Piper ruin that.

She didn’t look precisely overwhelmed by his breakfast offer, however. “Last night doesn’t change

anything. We’re not dating.”

“Did I ask you out on a date?” Piper and him on a date? The thought wasn’t all that bad.

She slurped at her coffee. “Nope. I wasn’t sure if the omission was an oversight on your part or not.”

Holding back his laugh was impossible. That was Piper. Supremely confident. “You were the one who

took advantage of me. I think any dating moves should come from you.”

She eyed the bottom of her mug. “How is this my fault?”

“You told me to get on your bike. And then you had your way with me.” He squatted next to her, hands

cupping his own mug when what he really wanted was to be touching her. Huh. Imagine that.

“That’s one interpretation.”

“So I’m hearing a no for breakfast?”

He had to get going. He had a hundred things to do today, and there was no way his mother hadn’t

noticed his absence last night. She might not say anything—although there was a fifty-fifty chance she

would—but he’d swear she had her own secret spies or a highly developed Spidey sense, because she’d

always noticed when one of his siblings had stayed out overnight. Saturday-morning breakfast was not

optional. He’d thought... He didn’t know what he’d thought. Pancakes and sausage weren’t a diamond ring,

and Piper had eaten breakfast at his house before. She had no business getting huffy with him. Plus, she

had to be hungry.

Right on cue, her stomach growled, because as he’d suspected, half a muffin did not a breakfast make.

“I rest my case.”

“I’m not coming with you.” She’d done that more than once last night, which was apparently the

problem.

“Why not?”

She stared at him for a moment. Maybe it was a girl thing, but he had no idea what he’d said wrong. “I

just had sex with my main competition for the Fiesta contract.”

“You were amazing,” he said and he meant it, too. Again, apparently not the right thing to say, because

she sighed.

“You owe me quarters,” she said pointedly. “Lots and lots of quarters.”

“
I
make you swear?”

“You make me do a lot of things, but this one’s all on me.” She fiddled with her coffee cup. “We

shouldn’t have done this, but it’s been a long time coming. We’ve had this chemistry thing between us for

years, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it kind of bubbled over last night.”

He’d never heard really hot sex described out loud as a chemistry thing that bubbled over, but she could

call their night whatever she wanted as long as he got to repeat it again.

“So no breakfast?”

“Having sex would be a conflict of interest.”

“No breakfast. Got it.”

* * *

HER COFFEE CUP wasn’t going to magically replenish itself. Piper snuck a peek at Cal. She was

probably pushing her luck to ask him for a refill. Or anything else. She still didn’t know why he was

sticking around or making offers of breakfast. Worse, part of her wanted to say yes and hop in his truck

with him.

She’d had sex with him.

Super hot, fantastic, slightly kinky sex.

That, she could do. Brunch with Cal’s mother? Not so much. They were childhood acquaintances, sure,

and if the Brennans were hosting a two-hundred-person barbecue, she (and the rest of the island) would

expect an invite. An intimate weekend brunch, however, was so far out of her league he might as well have

invited her to Mars. Saturday morning was for family and she wasn’t that.

She scooped a stone from the sand. So what if she wanted to go? They both watched her stone skip

over the water. Once. Twice. And...sink. Yep. Pretty much like her heart.

“Not bad.” He leaned down and snagged a stone. “Watch and learn.”

The playful gleam in his eye had her thinking about going back to bed. Maybe they could
both
not go to

brunch.
No.
Bad libido. She had to get this chemistry thing under control.

He launched the stone with a smooth flick of his wrist. The scruff on his jaw made him look impossibly

sexy and more than a little rumpled. Apparently, he was not only a rock star in bed, but he was also king of

skipping stones, because his stone sailed over the waves, ignoring her silent jinxes.

“One. Two. Three.
Four.
”

The stone sank beneath a wave.
Darn it.
He’d smoked her.

Which didn’t mean she had to give in easily. Or even graciously. “The last one didn’t count.”

He raised a brow. “You’re a sore loser.”

Probably, but this was
Cal,
and she wasn’t giving up yet. “Plus, mine went farther.”

“If you want to swim out there and compare rocks, go right ahead.”

“Pass.”

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his back pocket. “I’ve got to go.”

She’d known that since he woke up. Standing up, he brushed a kiss over her mouth.

Say something.

“I’ll see you on Monday?”

She made her words half question, half polite brush-off. Monday was good. They’d already settled their

work schedule. What was still undecided, however, was how they were going to deal with the chemistry

they had between them.

“You still owe me a night.”

“Oh.”
Yes, please.

“You can bet I’m collecting,” he growled.

* * *

THE BRENNAN PLACE was a big, rambling home perched above the ocean. The house had a

seemingly endless supply of bedrooms and hidey-holes, all of which had been a lifesaver growing up, as

Cal’s parents had been fairly prolific. He had three younger sisters and two brothers. His mother was the

center of their universe, and he was more than okay with that. He was fortunate to have always had her at

his back. She’d understood when he’d enlisted and left the island, but she’d also made it clear he’d always

have a home. His father’s unexpected death from a heart attack three years ago had been rough, but they’d

weathered it together, because they were family, and family stuck.

He
had,
however, bought his own place just down the road, when he’d been home on leave, a fixer-

upper, which he was slowly restoring on the weekends. He loved his family, but he didn’t need to be glued

at the hip with them. Since he’d moved back to the island permanently only six months ago, the cottage was

still a work in progress. Or, as his sisters called it, a disaster with potential. In the plus column, he had two

bedrooms, one bathroom and a DayGlo-green kitchen, which opened up to a living room area with a

panoramic view of the ocean. The minus column had been enough to lower the price to bargain territory,

however. The roof leaked, the hot water was more temperamental than Tag without coffee, and Cal had

pulled up the shag carpeting only to learn that the hardwood underneath must have been used by a small

herd of dogs and boys to run the Indy 500 with cleats on. After a quick pit stop to change his clothes and

run his eyes over the day’s to-do list, he walked up the road to the family place. Two of his younger sisters