In Too Deep (18 page)

West gestured her toward him and
she finned over, holding the catch bag open. He dropped the lobster
inside and held up a finger, pointing back at the rock opening.
Making a motion across her throat with her spare hand, she raised a
questioning eyebrow.
Out of air?

He shook his head and turned back
to the rock, reappearing moments later with another struggling
lobster. That one also stored, he gave her a thumbs up—returning to
the surface. Mirroring the gesture she flutter-kicked away, feeling
the drag of the catch bag in her hand, the movement and eddy of
water flowing around her. She looked to the right, expecting to see
West beside her. Nothing but air bubbles and a sleek kahawai
swimming past.

West!

Her mind screamed, even as her
body registered a shift in the water pressure behind her
immediately followed by a sly pinch on her butt as West rose up,
tapped the top of her head, and darted away—as only someone without
a cumbersome tank could do.

Show-off. Long limbs curved and
flexed as he propelled himself gracefully up to the sun, simple joy
in every movement. It was more than showing off. West truly loved
what he did and she accepted he’d never stop wanting the freedom
found in the deep—like her father.

But that same illicit thrill could
transform into a powerful drive. A drive which could prove
fatal.

***

Piper finished digging a hole and
tipped the scraps of lobster shells and legs into it. Couples one
to three enjoyed their impromptu picnic and had taken a stroll to a
cluster of exposed rocks at the end of the beach to watch the sun
set. The sand slid between her fingers as she filled in the hole.
Behind her West loaded the last of the gear back into the dinghy,
ready for their return trip to The Mollymawk.

She sat back on her haunches. A
gust of cool wind whipped a smattering of grit across her cheek and
she brushed it away. Thank God for West’s quick thinking and the
couples’ willingness to see the dinner fiasco as a big
adventure.

“
Done?” West ambled toward her
barefoot, those damn board shorts highlighting his—never
mind.

Piper gave the mound one last pat,
just in case the lobsters might reanimate and head for the surface.
Zombie lobsters. Yeah, that’d take her mind off West’s seriously
hot body.

“
Yep. You?” She cleared her throat
as he sat beside her.

He stretched his long legs out in
front and leaned back on his elbows. “For now.”

She sat back too and crossed her
ankles. Waves hissed, surging over the wet sand. The wind picked up
and leaves cartwheeled across the beach. The repetitive call of a
weka piped up in the distance.

“
Was it so bad, diving with me
today?” he asked.

Piper tilted her chin toward him,
squinting as the dying rays of sun slanted into her eyes. Slight
creases lined his forehead and his mouth was in a straight
line.

“
It was fine.” She sighed and
curled her toes. “I haven’t buddied with a free-diver since my dad,
and you freaked me out for a second when you
disappeared.”

“
Ah. I’m sorry. I was a complete
asshat. I didn’t think.”

Tugging her legs up to her chest,
Piper rested her chin on a kneecap. “The only time I go into the
ocean now is for work or training. There’s little pleasure in
it—other than knowing I’m doing my job. I’ve forgotten how to have
fun in the water.”

“
The three of us used to have fun.
Diving, spearfishing, races from the beach to your dad’s
boat.”

“
Yeah.” Silvery waves and flashes
of sunlight hit her brother’s boat as it rolled gently in the
swell. “Back when Ben didn’t hate me. It feels like a lifetime
ago.”

“
He doesn’t hate you.” There was a
raw edge in his tone, like maybe he wanted to change the initial
pronoun.

Wishful thinking.

“
No, I suppose not. I’m channeling
my mother’s flair for the dramatic. Hate would require some emotion
on Ben’s part. He’s indifferent.”

“
No one can remain indifferent to
you for long.”

Can you?
Her fist clenched
as a muscle worked in his jaw.

Ben’s indifference hurt but West’s
hurt on a whole new level. Caring about what he thought was another
painful illustration of her vulnerability where he was concerned.
Piper hated that weakness in herself—and that wasn’t dramatic, just
truth.

“
We’ll see.” She scrambled to her
feet, brushing the sand from her legs.

West rose beside her in one fluid
movement and touched her forearm. She started and he dropped his
hand, shoving it into the pocket of his shorts.

“
I want to ask you something.” His
gaze was steady and unblinking and as it lingered her stomach
clenched in knots.

“
Ask away.”

“
I want you to be my safety diver
while I train for Nationals.”

The words were a body blow, a
battering onslaught that spun her thoughts so fast lightheadedness
made her sway. Digging her toes into the sand as an anchor, Piper
checked herself and schooled her features into a mask of polite
interest that promised nothing. The same expression she adopted
when one of her cop buddies was after a quick cash loan. “Really?
And is this the final installment on the reimbursement you think I
still owe?”

“
It crossed my mind.” His eyebrows
drew together. “But I’m asking you because other than Ben, there’s
no one else I trust at my back.”

“
I’m flattered. But no thanks.”
She turned to walk away, but he came up behind her, his hands
wrapping around her upper arms.

His chest brushed her shoulder
blades and warm breath puffed against the curve of her ear.
Goosebumps prickled across her skin as his fingers traced down her
arms and linked their hands together. “Taking off again? You’re
becoming predictable.”

“
Sometimes being predictable will
keep you alive.” Her words came out choppy and
Marilyn-Monroe-breathy. “You know what I think about the risks of
free-diving.”

“
Without training, I’d agree. But
I’ve been doing this for a long time and only a couple of years ago
I did an intensive course in the Bahamas with world champions of
the discipline. I know what I’m doing.”

Yeah, he knew exactly what he was
doing—murmuring in that seductive voice, which would normally have
women whipping off their panties in two seconds flat. She was not
one of those women. Yet she couldn’t explain why she hadn’t
disentangled herself from his embrace. “It’s still too
dangerous.”

“
That’s where your expertise comes
in.” He gripped her hands and moved in even closer, the front of
his thighs brushing the backs of hers, her bottom settling into the
cradle of his hips.

A flash of heat boiled through her
at the contact. God, he was always a sly one at getting what he
wanted. While other men would yell and demand, West was far
craftier. He used his slick conversational skills and potent touch
to talk a woman into thinking capitulation was her idea all
along.

He pulled back fractionally and
his stubble scratched the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She
shivered, cursed herself for the weakness of wanting him to do it
again.

“
No. I can’t.”

His body aligned to hers from back
to thigh, the hard curve of his biceps pressing against her arms.
He cocooned her in the powerful heat which pumped off him, warming
her chilled skin. He lifted their linked hands up and wrapped them,
and his arms, around her waist. “You could keep me
safe.”

Her heart tripped and plummeted,
taking her back to the early morning when she was eighteen, woken
before dawn by her father yanking the covers off her tear-stained
face saying, “Looks like it’s you and me kid, because Ben didn’t
come home last night. Not that it matters. You’ll keep me
safe.”

But she hadn’t, had
she?

“
Don’t ask me that! Dad asked me
to keep him safe and he died.” Her voice cracked on the last word
and she threw herself forward, but strong arms pinned
her.

“
Christ, Piper.”

She struggled, a feeble struggle
that embarrassed her because, really, the strength of his arms
around her was the only thing keeping her on her feet. She went
limp and allowed him to gather her into the cradle of his chest. He
turned her to face him and wrapped her in his arms, fitting her
body flush against his, tucking her head under his jaw, where it
had always fitted perfectly and somehow still did.

She breathed him in, the thud of
his pulse a steady metronome. West’s chest vibrated against her
cheek as he murmured soothing words. Her eyes fluttered shut.
Just one moment.
His shirt smelled of the wine husband
number three accidently spilled on him—that and the ever-present
salt and the fainter traces of soap.
Just one more.
The
scruff of his unshaven chin scraped against her temple. She clung
limpet-like to the solid bulk of him while his fingers rubbed her
upper back in small circles.

She wanted to suspend this moment
forever.

And
that
jerked her back to
her senses. Power and one-upmanship dominated the kiss they’d
shared back in West’s kitchen, but this hug was much more
dangerous. This intimacy, these delicate tendrils of trust
sprouting between them, they were the real threat.

“
Is this about your dad? You can’t
still blame yourself for his death.”

Yes, she could blame herself and
did. But she also blamed
him
. The twenty-year-old Ryan
Westlake who’d made her believe that he wanted her—loved her—and
then took the love and trust she’d handed him and crushed it
between calloused fingers. If she hadn’t been grieving over a
relationship that existed mainly in her own head, her father might
still be alive.

She stiffened, and her fingers,
which had curled into fists in the back of his tee shirt, creaked
open.

“
You were only eighteen. He
should’ve known better than to take you out alone.”

He was offering her the comfort of
someone who had lost Michael too. But she wouldn’t accept his
comfort, because he didn’t know exactly what happened that
day.

“
You’re a trained police diver,”
he said. “You must be pretty good to make it on the squad. You’re
not that eighteen-year-old girl anymore.”

She was definitely not that girl
anymore. The girl who was so caught up, so ass-over-heels in love
with him, that she’d destroyed her family.

Piper pulled back and met his
gaze. Years of cop discipline prevented temper from spilling into
her voice. “I’m more than pretty good.”

“
So, help me. Please.”

Trained by the country’s best
through harrowing conditions, she’d succeeded where many had
failed. She knew a hell of a lot more now than she did at eighteen.
And she had no sappy, lovesick emotions to deal with this
time.

Piper pried herself from the
circle of West’s arms and backed away. “Will you still dive if I
say no?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve no death
wish. I won’t train in open water without a safety diver. But if I
don’t train then there’s no way I’ll be fit to compete at the
Nationals and no way to help Ben.”

What was he talking about? “How
does your competing help Ben?”

“
Stewart Island Dives is
sponsoring me.”

Her brother’s company inherited
from their father after he died. “But Ben has no money for
sponsorship.”

“
Nope, not a bean. But if I win,
he gets free publicity and a loan from me with the prize
money.”

“
Hah. So competing in the
Nationals is completely altruistic? You just want to help my
brother out?” She couldn’t stop her lip from curling and her
stomach agitated queasily.

“
I don’t deny I want to win, but
the publicity’ll be good for him.”

Yeah. And there was the crux. The
one thing that could change her mind. The publicity and cash loan
would
be good—could make a huge difference in saving her
brother’s home, her father’s business.

She slapped her hands on her hips.
“Fine. But if I’m your safety diver, then I make the
rules.”

“
Yes, ma’am.”

Fat, wet droplets splattered on
her scalp, then targeted her bare arms, her shoulders, her
legs—Jeez, couldn’t she ever cop a break? The clouds above
Kahurangi Bay tore open. She squinched her eyes shut, the hands on
her hips curling into fists.

In the distance came catcalls and
squeals of laughter from the other couples. Rain hissed and
pattered as it hit sea and sand, and the smell of brine grew
stronger. A finger traced the curve of her cheek. Her eyes popped
open. West closed the gap between them, his face wet, dark hair
plastered against his head.

“
You’re pissed at me again.” He
tucked a dripping strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know why
I’m not surprised.”

No way would she confess the
thoughts playing through her head these last few minutes. “I’m not
pissed at you. It’s the rain—kind of a predictable end to this
disastrous day.”