Wicked Nights (8 page)

She slid over. Up. Working the swing and gravity and God knew what else until her butt was planted

firmly in his lap.
Surprise.

“Piper—” Her name came out sterner than he’d intended. A warning, because not everything had to be a

game between them.

“Shh,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling. “I’m working on a safety violation here.”

She pressed her mouth against his, and his arms snapped around her, anchoring her. Because they were

turning, whirling, and he didn’t want her flying out of the swing. Nope. He didn’t want her hurt, even if he

wasn’t sure what else he
did
want.

Her mouth was a wicked surprise, her lips soft and giving as they brushed his. Slightly sticky, too, from

the taffy, but he could work with that. He’d never thought of Piper as sweet before tonight—in fact, he tried

hard to
not
think about her because he’d suspected danger years ago—but the sugar glossing her lips

tempted him to have just a taste of her.

“Wow, Cal.” She didn’t sound pissed off, which was a pleasant change from her usual mood.

Was that a “yes, do it again”? With his tongue, he traced the line where her lips met, his hands curving

into the small of her back, his fingers skimming bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. Definitely a “yes,

do it again” from him.

She kissed him and the soft contact was all it took to set his head spinning more wildly than the swings.

Just like that, he forgot they didn’t like each other and that they were, in fact, competing for the same job.

Her lips brushed his, teasing and candy sweet, and his pulse hammered out of control.

Piper was kissing him.

It should have seemed strange or awkward, but somehow, all her touch felt like to him was right. He’d

known her for years and never imagined doing this. She pressed into him, centrifugal force pinning her

against his chest as the ride swung them briefly out over the ocean, but his arm around her waist kept her

there when the ride evened out.

Piper kissed with her eyes open. The look on her face was intent, fierce and more than a little puzzled.

That made two of them. Her ponytail flew out behind her as the swings turned, curly strands escaping every

which way. The pink flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with makeup. With Piper, what you saw was

what you got.

He only wished he knew why she wanted to kiss him.

Curiosity got the better of him, however, so he gently ran his fingers down her eyes, coaxing her to shut

them. He couldn’t turn his head off with her staring at him. Couldn’t lose himself in her. She drove him

crazy, but right now kissing her was absolutely what he wanted to be doing, so he angled his mouth over

hers, taking control of it.

She whispered his name as he kissed her slowly, deeply, slipping inside her mouth and swallowing the

small hums of sound she made. She curled tighter against him and he held on, as if letting go suddenly

wasn’t an option and not just because she might fly off the swing. She tasted like saltwater taffy and

sunlight, all the good things in life. She didn’t do this any more quietly than she did anything, however. She

made noise. Lots and lots of noise. Hums and groans, gasps and a sexy whimper that made him wish they

were anywhere but in public.

Threading a hand through her hair, he cupped her head. She didn’t pull away, just moaned, and the raw

sound jolted through him, so he kissed her some more.

The ride slowed.

He lifted his head. She pulled back, sliding out of his lap. The swing coasted lower and lower,

momentum lost, the Pleasure Pier coming into focus. He might as well have posted a picture on Facebook,

because the entire resident population of Discovery Island would know about the kiss before tomorrow

morning.
Way to go, sailor.

His feet bumped the ground, and Lenny immediately headed their way, a big grin splitting his face.

“I should charge you double,” the old man snorted.

Piper laughed, snagging her bag of taffy from Cal’s pocket. “Like you haven’t seen riders kiss before.”

She didn’t deny what had happened, didn’t seem bothered at all. No, he was the only one who felt off

balance. On the other hand—he grinned as Lenny unhooked their swing to let them out—winning, and

losing, had never looked so good. He wanted the contract
and
the woman—winner take all.

“I’m looking forward to winning our bet,” she said throatily. Then she hopped down with a jaunty, “See

you,” and sashayed down the pier.

Right. The bet he’d been so determined to call off...and that he now had every intention of winning,

because holding Piper in his arms for a night suddenly sounded a whole letter better—not to mention hotter

—than any contract.

6

APPARENTLY, SHE DIDN’T have to like someone in order to kiss him. Piper’s brain had insisted on

replaying last night’s embrace over and over, much to the delight of other body parts. She’d had no idea Cal

kissed so well. Sure, the outward package was hot as hell, but she’d assumed his arrogant attitude would

translate into his kisses, as well. Big mistake. He’d been confident and knowing, but there had also been a

careful tenderness in the way he cupped her head and worked his mouth over hers and... She had to stop

thinking about it. It had been one kiss. She’d initiated. He’d closed.

And the encounter had kept her up all night.

Big mistake.

Cal drove her crazy. He was cocky, too sure of himself and bossy. From the moment they’d met as kids,

he’d made it his life’s mission to oppose her any and every way he could. Now he had the Fiesta contract in

his sights, and if she was very honest with herself, he had as good a chance of winning as she did. She

didn’t like to lose. Who did? So, no, it wasn’t surprising she didn’t
like
Cal Brennan.

Cal didn’t wear his thoughts and his emotions on his face, but he’d made those sexy, growly noises, so

that had to be a positive sign, right? He kissed with his eyes closed, and he had impossibly long eyelashes.

When she’d snuck a peek, he’d seemed both hungry and determined. And the touch of his callused

fingers... Well, letting go of Cal had been surprisingly difficult.

She eyed the hotel. The cruise ship execs had unexpectedly scheduled a meeting for this afternoon,

claiming they had a decision to share, and her new policy was no more kisses until she won. She needed to

focus on getting the contract—not on his broad shoulders or sexy presence. Cal was a take-charge kind of

man and alpha to the core, so waiting guaranteed she didn’t lose control of the situation. Win, and she’d

have Cal to herself on her own terms for one hot night. Seeing him give up his tightly honed control was

simply a bonus. Cal wasn’t the kind of man who took orders in bed—but for one night, he’d take them

from her. Her big, bad rescue swimmer wouldn’t like it at all, but too darned bad. He’d be all
hers.

She couldn’t wait.

Right on cue, a certain sexy SEAL rode up on his motorcycle. She had a moment to wonder where he

was coming from—because his dive shop was right around the corner—but maybe he’d been out at the

Brennan place. His family lived on Discovery Island year-round and had an enormous, rambling old house

a couple of miles outside town. The home sported the kind of cheerful, shabby chic she’d seen on the pages

of various magazines and was a far cry from her own family’s summer cabin. Her cabin was a euphemism

for “four walls held together with baling wire and duct tape.” She’d probably wake up in the ocean one day.

Since she’d spent the morning doing the books at Dream Big and Dive, she’d been just around the

corner, and she’d walked. Which—she shot a glance at her sandals with their three-inch heels—had been a

stupid thing to do. Her knee would hurt like the devil later tonight, but she’d chosen the shoes because right

now she needed to feel sexy. Powerful.

Cal should have looked out of place wearing a suit and straddling a motorcycle, but he didn’t. He also

probably had another PowerPoint slide presentation, which he’d use to wow the assembled minions, in the

messenger bag thrown over his shoulder. She hadn’t slept well, which she blamed on Cal. If he hadn’t been

such a good kisser, she wouldn’t be gritty-eyed from all the tossing and turning she’d done. She headed for

the door. The sooner the meeting started, the sooner she could win the contract and put all this behind her.

“Ignoring me?” The knowing rasp of his voice almost had her pausing.

Almost.

The truth was: absolutely. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d kissed him. And the

blame rested solely on her shoulders. As did their bet, when she thought about it. Whatever. Shaking Cal

out of his complacency was practically a public service.

Kissing him had nothing to do with how he’d made her feel.

Absolutely nothing at all...
Liar, liar, pants on fire,
the voice in her head chanted, and her libido nodded

along happily. Darn it. This was not supposed to be happening. She wasn’t supposed to be feeling anything

for Cal other than a little friendly competition. She didn’t need things to change.

“Definitely ignoring me.” Warm male hands cupped her shoulders, halting her in her tracks. A little zing

shot through her as his breath gusted past her ear.

“Apparently, I’m not succeeding.” She reached for the door, but he beat her to it.

“You’re losing the battle,” he agreed cheerfully and pushed the door open, motioning her to go through

first.

She considered standing there on the sidewalk, but Cal was stubborn. Since he had the door open, he’d

probably stand there until hell froze over or she walked away. And walking away meant giving up on the

contract, which wasn’t happening, either.

She brushed past him into the hotel, trying to ignore the way the accidental touch brought the hard

muscles of his arm to her attention. The door slammed shut behind her, and Cal fell into step beside her,

easily matching her pace. Of course, he wasn’t wearing heels.

“I take it this means you don’t want to talk about last night.”

She made a shut-up-now gesture, because,
hello,
they were in the hotel’s very public lobby, and they

both had to live on the island. She knew Cal’s mother. Amy Brennan loved her sons, Cal included, but she

also lived to see them married off and reproducing. Cal was the most stubborn holdout of her three sons, so

if Mrs. Brennan believed there was any chance Piper and Cal were getting together... Nope. Not happening.

Piper was still hoping no photographic evidence of last night’s embrace would show up on Facebook.

“You kissed me,” Cal pointed out cheerfully, punching the button for the elevator. He looked down at

her feet. “I assume we’re not taking the stairs, since you’re wearing those shoes.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he said. “But I am wondering how you manage to walk in them. Doesn’t your

knee bother you?”

She wasn’t talking about her knee. “My knee is none of your business,” she gritted out. The hotel had to

have the slowest elevators known to humankind. She’d take the stairs, but Cal was, of course, right. Her

feet hurt, her knee throbbed, and if it had been anything other than a business meeting, she’d have toed off

the shoes and swapped them for the flip-flops in her tote bag.

“Actually, your knee kind of is my business.”

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and she limped inside. Unfortunately, like always, Cal was

right on her heels. He held the door with one large hand and then reached around her to press the button for

the third floor.

The doors shut, making her uncomfortably aware the space was too small for the both of them. Plus, all

her elevator fantasies rushed unbidden to the forefront of her head.

Cal filled up all the available space, big and sure, but she still wasn’t discussing her knee with him.

After all, every possible angle of the injury had already been discussed in the national media. When it had

become clear she wouldn’t be resuming her platform-diving career, the media had run stories about the

accident and her broken dreams. She preferred not to relive those moments.

Move ahead.

Don’t look back.

If she could change that day, she would. But life didn’t pass out do overs, and Cal had saved her life.

The truth rankled, if she was being honest. She’d always stood on her own two feet, always pulled herself

out of the water, no matter how hard or badly she hit. Except for that one afternoon when she’d needed Cal

to do it. Of course, there were worse things than having to say thank you. Things like being
dead.
So even

if she wished she’d gotten herself out of trouble, she still appreciated everything Cal had done.

“Third floor?” she asked, ignoring the fact that since he’d punched the button, it was clearly their

destination. Cal never got the details wrong.

“Yeah.” He settled in on the other side of the elevator as if she’d never sat on his lap last night or made