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Authors: Regina Kyle

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BOOK: Triple Threat
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“Tell me you’re joking.” She kept her voice steady, when she wanted to scream. Unfortunately, she wasn’t surprised. Of course Cal would go after the contract she had her eye on.

“Afraid not.” He said the two words calmly, as if he hadn’t just dropped the mother of all bombshells on her. She needed the contract.
Had
to have it or give up her dream of buying out Del, her partner, because every bank she’d approached so far for the loan had made increased cash flow a condition of borrowing the money.

“Why?” she demanded.

“Because I run a dive center.” He made it sound so logical.

“You run a command center,” she countered, going on the offensive. “You handle all the search-and-rescue ops for the sector. Why do you want to run dive trips for a cruise ship?”

“Look around you,” he said drily. “And then tell me how busy you think I am.”

“We’ve had one tropical storm this summer.” Which probably only underscored his point.
One
was singular and nowhere near enough to base a business on. She understood—she just didn’t
like
it.

“I want to bring in more former SEALs to lead dive trips, and it was still a free country, last time I checked. In order to hire more divers, I need to increase our revenue. When I win the Fiesta contract, I do exactly that.”

He said it as if the contract was a sure thing.

Maybe it was. He was a veteran and a highly experienced diver. He’d trained U.S. Navy SEALs, the same guys who ensured they
did
still live in the free country Cal had so mockingly mentioned, and there was no way the executives evaluating the proposals wouldn’t weigh his military service into the equation. Plus, his plan of hiring former veterans was unspeakably
nice.
Until he’d thrown his name into the ring, she’d seriously had her competition beaten. She narrowed her eyes. Fortunately, she still had a card of her own to play.

“You’re not the only one who needs to increase revenue.”

“So, business
is
down for you.”

It was, and at the worst possible time, too. She needed a beefed-up balance sheet to get her business loan.

She gave him an assessing look. “For you, me and everyone else.”

He shrugged. “I heard several other dive shops had submitted a proposal to Fiesta.”

“The cruise line has plenty of choices.”
Unfortunately.
No, she’d think positive. She was good at what she did and she’d win this one.

The other option wasn’t acceptable.

“That contract is mine,” she said. She’d visualized nailing each and every dive before she’d climbed the tower in a competition, and she’d do exactly the same here. Cal might be a decorated veteran and combat swimmer, but she was a U.S. national platform-diving champion and a heartbreak story. She didn’t like playing the celebrity card, but she’d do whatever it took to win. After her accident, she’d spent two years in the media spotlight, and her name on a dive roster would make people look twice.

He shook his head, shoving off the railing. “Again, it’s a free country. You can think what you like.”

His tone, however, made it perfectly clear
he,
at least, didn’t think she stood a chance.

“You bet.”

Dream Big and Dive was her dream and she wasn’t letting go. She might not have the cash to purchase Del’s interest in the business outright and the banks might have labeled her a poor risk for a business loan, but she’d never gone down without a fight, as Cal knew very well. If she won the Fiesta contract, she won her funding and her shot at making Dream Big and Dive one of the best dive programs for novice divers in California. She’d make it to the final round of bidding, and she’d be in it to win it.

She never lost. Ever.

* * *

P
IPER
C
LARK WAS GORGEOUS.
Objectively speaking, Cal knew that. What he admired more, however, was the way she met his stare without flinching or dropping her gaze. She was a fighter to the core and Cal’s instincts said she wouldn’t go down easy. The problem was, she was still his competition for a job he wanted.

Hell.

“You won’t win this one,” she warned. She stood there, hands parked on her hips as if she owned this competition, and he was certain she believed she did.

“I can.” He would, too. His business, Deep Dive, was hands down the best operation in town. Piper, however, clearly believed
she
had the number-one, go-to place on the island. She also radiated an attractive confidence, which would only help her sell it to the Fiesta executives. Her hair was starting to dry now, dark streaks of wet giving way to lighter brown, and for a woman standing there in a bikini, she looked remarkably sure. He definitely needed to date more—or
at all
—because he was fairly certain he was staring. And that he’d noticed exactly where her bikini top had left pale white lines on her shoulders. She had freckles, too, and lots and lots of bare, smooth skin.

Except for her right knee.

She took a step, staggered slightly when the wake from a passing boat rocked the deck, then righted herself. If he hadn’t been watching her so closely, he’d have missed the lightning-fast correction. Her knee was the only part of her that wasn’t tanned perfection. The ridges of scar tissue were nothing gruesome—he’d seen far worse during his military career—and the lines were white. He put a hand out to steady her and then pulled it back. Yeah. The look in her eyes said she didn’t want help. He’d seen the same look on the faces of plenty of soldiers. He understood wanting—no,
needing
—to do things alone. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have his own gremlins riding his back, which was one of many reasons he wanted to bring more veterans and former teammates on board at Deep Dive. Sometimes, a guy needed a job and a place to work through his shit.

“You can’t stop me,” she said, her hands tightening on her hips.

He shook his head. “Honey, that’s where you’re wrong.”

She smiled at him. “I’m going to win.”

“You’re so certain?”

“You like to be in charge.” Her eyes narrowed accusingly as she went off on one of those Piper tangents he’d never been able to follow.
Jesus.
Yes, of course he did. The expression on her face said she did, too. Which was too bad for her because, not only was he good at it, he held all the cards here. Instead of responding, he shot her a look.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so, Cal.”

She said his name with the same tone of mocking disgust his SEAL teammates had used when trash talking each other, except her voice held a note of sincerity. He’d seen her breasts. Hell, he’d touched her skin, even if it was only the brush of his fingers against the back of her neck, so it was okay. She could call him anything she wanted, because names didn’t bother him. Actions mattered. Not words.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Win,” she said so sweetly his teeth hurt. “That’s what I’m going to do, Cal.”

Not in his lifetime. “I’ve got you seriously outgunned here.”

“Bet me,” she said in the same tone.

He observed her cautiously. Trouble had just shown up on this mission. The playful sparkle in her eyes telegraphed the message loud and clear. Since the only thing she had to be happy about was his leaving the field to her, and he had no intention of doing that, she clearly believed she’d come up with an alternative plan.

“Uh-huh,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning in. “What are we betting about?”

“The outcome of the contract negotiations,” she clarified, smiling up at him.

“There’s only one possible outcome.” He dismissed her words with a quick nod. “Deep Dive wins.”

“That’s what you think.” She shrugged casually, clearly baiting her trap.

He’d play.

“It’s a fact.” Unexpectedly, he didn’t want to see her get hurt. If she pulled back now, quietly, she could avoid the agony of defeat and all that. Hell, he almost qualified as a gentleman.

“Then, beat me, fair and square.” She shot him a fierce grin. “I’ll bid. You’ll bid.”

“I’m not betting you about this.”

“Why not?” She leaned forward, bracing her arms on either side of him, on the edge of the dive boat. She wasn’t a tall woman and she was careful not to touch him, but somehow she’d turned the tables on him. Again not surprising. Piper had made a career out of shocking him. “Maybe you’re just chicken. Put your money where your mouth is, Brennan. Bet me.”

“You’re not betting money.” He wouldn’t take her money anyhow. He was almost certain Piper’s cash flow left something to be desired. He wanted to beat her, not bankrupt her.

She leaned closer. He tried to pretend her bikini-covered breasts weren’t brushing his chest, that her top and his T-shirt were more than enough fabric to keep his imagination from rioting. Piper’s breasts were a sweet handful, curvy tops spilling over the edge of her bikini. When she’d been a platform diver, her swimsuit tops had been engineered to compress and create a smooth, sleek line. This top was something else. Feminine. Tempting. And yet—this was
Piper.
He didn’t like her, he reminded himself. She didn’t like him, even if she loved pushing his buttons. So where had this chemistry come from?

“You’re scared.” She sounded smug. “We both know I’m winning this one.”

And...buttons pushed. “Am not.”

Great. He’d regressed to being a three-year-old, except for the part of him that was clearly an adult and wanted to show Piper how much he appreciated her bikini top. Which he wasn’t going to do.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He knew that smile. He was in so much trouble here. “Are. Too.” She underscored each word with a not-so-subtle poke in his chest.

He captured her fingers in his before she could drill holes into his heart. The words flew out of his mouth before he could think about it.

“Business, Piper. This is strictly business.”

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a look he couldn’t interpret and—he wasn’t sure, but did she check him out as she pulled away? Getting a read on Piper was frustrating. “You keep telling yourself that.”

 

 

Copyright © 2014 by Anne Marsh

ISBN-13: 9781460340394

TRIPLE THREAT

Copyright © 2014 by Denise Smoker

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical,
now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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