Wicked Nights (21 page)

way, Cal was her friend. He was arrogant and pigheaded, and she’d probably butt heads with him when she

was ninety but...yeah. They were friends. Returning to Discovery Island had proved Cal had redeeming

qualities, if nothing else.

“I think so.”

The next small wave picked her up, bumping her against Cal. He was taller than she was, and his legs

easily reached the bottom here. Plus, his larger body mass made it harder for the waves to knock him

around. Taking advantage of his relative stability, she wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring herself.

And, okay, enjoying the heck out of the close contact, too. She grabbed for his shoulders with her hands.

“Because this seems more like kiss and make up,” he said.

“You don’t kiss your friends?”

“I could make an exception.”

Cal needed a friend. It was something about his eyes, she decided. He had gorgeous eyes, the rich

brown making her think of decadent treats like brownies and chocolate. Usually, there was more than a hint

of reserve in his eyes. Or disapproval. Cal didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. He liked being in control.

Right now, though, her SEAL looked more than a little lost.

Admitting to a weakness wasn’t something he did. She understood. She really did, because she was the

same way. She leaned in closer and his hands cupped her butt, helping her out. They both were all about

showing a strong front to the world. When she’d still been diving competitively, she’d known that even a

bad dive meant she climbed out of the pool with her game face on. Don’t show the cameras, the people in

the stands or the other divers how much the entry had hurt or that she knew she’d over-rotated. Keep it to

yourself. Do the postmortem later, over and over, making sure the mistake never happened again.

Cal blamed himself for his teammate’s death. She’d bet he hadn’t discussed it with Tag and Daeg—and

that they all carried around their own burdens of guilt. She wondered why guys couldn’t mention the word

feelings
without clamming up, but then another wave pushed her higher in Cal’s arms. His thumb stroked

the curve of her butt.

“Make me the exception?” she suggested, her mouth inches from his. She couldn’t fix him, as much as

she wanted to, any more than he could undo the damage the Jet Ski accident had done to her knee. So here

they were, two people who were used to being in charge and making things better, and neither of them

knew what to do with the other.

Okay. She had one idea.

“You bet,” he said roughly.

Good enough.

The ocean pushed her against him. That was the excuse she gave herself as she pressed her mouth

against his.

He didn’t pull back. Instead, eyes open, he stared at her with single-minded intensity. His grip on her

butt tightened as his eyes drifted closed. It was strange. This was
Cal,
for crying out loud, and she’d never

imagined she’d be kissing him. And yet she was.

And he was kissing her back.

“Piper,” he said roughly, her name half laugh, half groan, as he tore his mouth away from hers.

“You’ve got my name right,” she agreed. “Kiss me some more.”

And he did.

His mouth covered hers as he settled in, his tongue tangling with hers as she made a greedy sound. Her

hands cupped his head, her thumbs tracing the pulse banging in his neck as they sank lower and lower in

the water.

He knew what she was doing. He’d tried the same thing in the bathtub, and his head had no problem

with a few inches of clean, soapy water. It was the open ocean and what hid beneath the surface that did

him in. Still, he appreciated the effort.

He had his feet firmly planted on the sand. They had no masks, no tanks. The odd rock on the bottom

made itself felt through the bottom of his dive booties, but her fingers gripped his shoulders, gripped him.

See? This was okay.

When she tore her mouth from his, they were both breathing hard.

“So far, so good?”

“Yeah,” he agreed jaggedly.

“Focus on me.” Her mouth closed over his again, and this time she took them under with a kiss, gently

pushing down beneath the surface. One foot. Two. His brain refused to shut off, counting off the distance

between him and the surface.

Something brushed his thigh, and he startled.
Piper.
His eyes flew open, stinging in the salt water, but

she was right there. He wanted to give her what they both wanted—a miraculous insta-cure for his phobia

—but instead he settled for slowly floating them both back to the surface.

He hadn’t panicked.

That had to count for something.

“You think the Fiesta folks would like a dive like that?”

She shot him a naughty grin. “Margie Kemp might.”

Right. The female member of the Fiesta team. “You don’t think I’m Sal’s type?”

He felt her shudder. “He must be
someone’s
type,” she answered, but she sounded doubtful.

“Not mine,” he said.

He rolled and swam lazily for shore. She clung playfully to his shoulders, riding his back.

“You should talk with someone.”

No. What he needed was to do something. To
fix
this. He’d spent one minute five feet underwater. He’d

served as a U.S. Navy SEAL. He’d swum despite near hypothermia, powered through two-mile swims with

his fins dragging at his feet. He’d made combat swims that were still classified and dived into storm-

churned water from a Blackhawk.

Five feet didn’t begin to cut it.

And yet she’d tried and that mattered. “Thanks. For—” Too bad he didn’t have a list of words. He

wanted her to know he appreciated what she’d done, but neither of them had spent much timing talking

about feelings or mouthing “thank you.”

“I only wish I was a miracle worker.”

Apparently, though, she got it.

“You are,” he said roughly. She had no idea. When he focused on
her,
he wasn’t focused on the dive.

His head stayed in the game just a little more, and he dived just a little farther. Hell, with another hundred

sessions or so of kiss therapy, he might make it to a full twenty feet.

He slogged out of the water and onto the beach.

“Can Daeg or Tag lead your dives?”

He’d suggested the switch. “Fiesta insists I do it.”

“Right.” There was a pause. Clearly, she understood exactly what that meant for his chances of landing

the contract. “All right,” she said. “I just want you to know I’ve got your back. If there’s anything I can do,

count me in, okay?”

And...now he felt lower than low. She had his back—and he’d placed a bid on her place. Telling her

was suddenly more important than ever because, even if he hadn’t known the dive shop he was offering for

belonged to her in part, he knew
now.
On the other hand, he wasn’t going to seal the deal on the Fiesta

contract. It wouldn’t matter.

“Okay?” she asked.

He wanted to be. More than anything.

“You bet,” he said and led the way back to the boat.

12

THE DIVE BOAT slapped and bounced over the waves when Daeg opened the throttle and let her rip.

Piper had played and replayed this afternoon in her head a million times, as she had countless numbers of

platform dives. She would imagine how something was going to unfold, step by step, and then her body

would step through the sequence flawlessly, even when nerves froze her head.

Leading the Fiesta crew through her dive had been an adrenaline rush. Later, she’d do a postmortem

with Carla, but right now she was fiercely happy. The dive had gone well. Better than well. She and Carla

had partnered with Cal and Daeg to lead the day’s demonstration dives. Since Piper’s dive was technically

less challenging, they’d opted to do hers first in case the Fiesta crew turned out to have any issues diving.

They’d motored slowly past one of the smaller islands close to Discovery Island where the sea lions

congregated.

Even before they’d spotted the sea lion colony, raucous barking had competed with the harsher cry of

the gulls. Up close, the sea lions were awkwardly cute, pulling themselves across the sand on their flippers.

The creatures also had more things to say to each other than a houseful of Brennans. The noise was

deafening.

After walking the divers through the site and performing gear checks, she’d rolled off the side of the

boat. Underwater, her field of vision exploded into a sea of miniature bubbles as she tucked and rolled,

swimming smoothly to the anchor line just off the dive boat’s prow. The other divers had followed, with

Cal staying behind on board to monitor the surface and keep an eye on the boat.

Even before she’d signaled their descent, they’d had a clear view of the dozens of sea lions diving

through the water around them. The animals had been perfectly happy to swim with the divers, had spiraled

through the kelp forest and over to the edge where the bottom dropped away steeply in a trail of bubbles.

When they’d surfaced forty minutes later, working their way slowly up the safety line, the Fiesta team had

been excited. Carla had taken photographs of them and, as she’d passed the camera around, the group had

relaxed with bottles of water and sliced watermelon.

The mature thing to do would be to play it cool and not rub Cal’s face in the spectacular success her

dive had been. But...screw it. She was one step closer to winning this competition, and they both knew it.

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, “Beat that.”

* * *

Cal pulled the dive boat into the cove behind Devil’s Slide, and everybody piled onto the beach for the

day’s second dive. Piper and Daeg got busy unloading tanks and gear, while Cal walked the divers through

the site. Being this close to Piper on what he might have started calling their beach—words he wouldn’t

admit out loud—was distracting. He kept remembering how she’d wrapped herself around him in the surf.

The way she’d just been there for him, with him. And, of course, her kiss. He remembered all of their

kisses and not because there hadn’t been enough of them.

Five kisses.

One at the Pleasure Pier. The second on today’s beach. He’d kissed Piper right there where he’d

anchored the dive boat. He’d also had three kisses—four, he decided—the night she’d decided they were

going to bed together. Those kisses had been marathon kisses and might count for more, except they hadn’t

come up for air. If he was lucky, he’d up their kiss count today. He was aiming to break into double digits.

Thinking about Piper right now was crazy. She had every intention of kicking his butt in this

competition, and he’d all but handed her the win anyhow. He had to go in the water in ten minutes and lead

five divers through the Devil’s Slide. Kissing wasn’t part of his plan.

Plus, he had no idea what would happen to them after the Fiesta competition wrapped. If he won the

contract, he lost Piper. He didn’t kid himself. Piper played to win. She’d made her position perfectly clear.

She was outrageous, impulsive and dedicated. His SEAL training had taught him to value the kind of

determination to do whatever it took to get the job done.

Sal Britten, the senior Fiesta executive, spouted off as they made the all-too-short climb to the top of the

cliff. Cal had checked the guy’s logbook. Twice. Sal Britten had dived some pretty world-renowned sites.

Cal just wished the guy would shut up. He was pompous and arrogant, sure he knew more about diving

than either of the two dive masters leading the trip.

And he was also vocal in sharing his knowledge. He’d critiqued the boat, the tanks, the shorties and the

amount of weight Cal had added to his belt. Pushing the guy off the cliff, while satisfying, would be a

major ethical violation, but Cal was seriously tempted. From the way Piper’s mouth twitched as Sal finished

describing the wall dive he’d done in Tahiti two months ago, she felt the same way.

And...showtime.

While Carla and Piper helped Ben and Margie, the other two Fiesta divers, into their harnesses and

tanks, Cal walked over to the edge of the cliff. It was every bit as far to the surface as he’d remembered. If

his only problem had been the height, he’d have been golden. Piper would be happy to shove him over.

He still had no idea how he was going to do this.

Daeg came over and stared down at the ocean waiting at the bottom of the cliff. “You got this?”

Unfortunately, Cal knew what the other man was asking. He wasn’t stupid. He’d known Daeg would

pick up on his issues with diving. As long as Cal’s issues had been personal, Daeg had backed off. He

hadn’t pressed, which Cal appreciated. When those same issues came into play with a mission, however,

Daeg had to ask questions.

So, the question was: did he?

Mentally he walked through the dive. Forty-five minutes from when his feet left the cliff top until he

waded back out on the beach. Four people counting on him. He couldn’t jump unless he knew he could