Fevered Nights

“When we’re not deployed or attending a special training school we’re waiting around to be deployed. We can be playing pool at this bar called Barney’s one minute and the next thing you know we’re on a plane headed for an op.”

“That sounds a lot like my life in a way. I never know where in the world my next assignment might be.”

He chuckled and started to scan his menu.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sometimes I never know where in the world I’m going to be, either.”

English wasn’t her first language, but she caught the play on words and smiled. “I believe your assignments are undoubtedly more dangerous, Lieutenant.”

He looked up from his menu. “Neil.”

She got caught in the warm copper color of his eyes. How could his stare feel so intense and yet convey such warmth? It made her want to squirm and at the same time lean closer. But she did neither. “Neil,” she acknowledged with a small smile.

The waiter returned, poured their wine—which Neil accepted without tasting—and took their orders. Piper reached for her glass. Without the menu as a barrier, she felt exposed. Strange. She didn’t often feel awkward around men. But then, the men with whom she usually kept company were acutely adept at playing the game. This man...wasn’t. And she realized she didn’t know what to do with that.

The silence had gone on too long. “What do you do—”

“My buddy says your—” They spoke at the same time.

He nodded at her. “You go.”

“What do you do in the navy?”

“Whatever they tell me to do.” His sheepish smile softened the sharp answer.

Piper blinked. “And how long have you been doing that?”

“Since I was twenty. Uh, fourteen years, now.” His eyes widened. “Wow, saying that out loud makes me sound really old.”

“And why did you join the navy?”

“Well, I sure didn’t want to be a jarhead.”

Piper frowned. “Pardon?”

He winced. “Sorry. It was a joke. Jarheads are marines. We have a bit of a rivalry with the marines. No, it was my uncle. After Korea, the military knew they needed a more unconventional type of soldier for counterinsurgency. My father’s older brother was one of the first SEALs. He died in Vietnam.”

She raised a skeptical brow. “And this was the reason you wanted to follow in his footsteps?”

Neil’s gaze drifted off. “I was alone a lot as a kid. One day I found a trunk in my grandparents’ attic with a bunch of old letters. On one of them was a picture of these guys in jungle camo, and a Purple Heart medal. There was also this gold pin of an eagle perched on an anchor, holding Neptune’s trident and a pistol in his claws. It’s the pin that navy SEALs get after they complete training.

“When I asked my grandfather about it he told me the things had belonged to my uncle Greg. Uncle Greg had written the letters to his parents from Vietnam. I practically memorized them. They taught me the only important things I needed to know in life.”

Piper was taken aback at his sincerity, and couldn’t have stopped herself from asking the next question if she’d tried. “What are the important things in life?”

His focus shot back to her and he tilted his head. “Honor,” he stated with conviction. “Duty.” He thrust his chin out. “And love.”

Piper blinked, feeling her eyes sting. If she’d ever believed in those things, she’d lost faith in them long ago. After all, she’d failed at all three. Avoiding his searching gaze, she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. She cleared her throat. Somehow this didn’t feel like a normal date. “I guess knowing how to sail well comes in handy in the navy?”

He shrugged. “Knowing how to swim certainly helped. It was about the only thing that got me through BUD/S.”

“BUD/S?”

“Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL training.”

“Oh. So you blow things up underwater?”

“That’s part of the job, I guess. Sometimes.”

“Then, I can see why you’d have to be a good swimmer.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah.” He nodded. “You do.”

She grimaced. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve said something incredibly stupid?”

“No.” He looked alarmed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“It’s all right. You wouldn’t be the first.” She forced a small smile. “Or the last.”

Instead of agreeing with her, he narrowed his eyes and scrutinized her face. “No one should ever make you feel stupid.”

Piper’s mouth dropped open. She had no idea what to say to that. This man had only just met her, didn’t know her at all, yet he’d touched a raw nerve with such precision and then soothed it in the space of a few seconds.

He took a sip of his wine and the food arrived. Grabbing his knife and fork, he ignored the salad and dug into his steak with gusto. After he’d swallowed a bite, he looked up. “All I meant about the swimming was that unlike my buddy, I was usually last at everything at BUD/S, except for that and diving.” He forked another bite of steak and popped it into his mouth.

“I find that hard to believe.”

He stopped chewing and met her gaze. She’d been staring at his chest, wondering if it was hairy or smooth. Despite his average height and build, she sensed strength in his every move. Power lurking beneath the surface. Just thinking about the muscles that bunched under his suit coat made her want to slide it off and run her hands down his arms.

Her face heated. She concentrated on her salad, picking at the spinach.

“That really all you’re going to eat?”

“If I want to continue to work.”

Funny, she wasn’t the least bit interested in food right now. Usually, limiting her caloric intake was a struggle. When she’d first arrived in London, she’d wanted to stuff her face every chance she got. But Ms. H had controlled her diet with an iron hand from the beginning.

It had seemed a ridiculous paradox to her at first; living in such luxury and yet still going hungry. But at least she’d been allowed to send money back to Nandan.

“Doesn’t seem right.” He shook his head. “Making women think that putting on a few pounds is the end of the world. Most guys I know don’t give a rat’s...behind about that.”

She bristled. “It’s my job.”

He winced. “I didn’t mean—” He sighed and gave her that lopsided grin. “I seem to be having an off night. Usually I’m a lot more suave than this.”

When his white teeth flashed and his eyes twinkled like that it was impossible to remain immune to his charm. Besides, it was a reassuring concept. To think that she could quit modeling and eat whatever she wanted, as much as she wanted, and the world would still spin on its axis. Her shoulders sagged. “I shouldn’t be so sensitive. Tell me more about BUD/S.”

His attention seemed to turn inward and he remained silent.

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, that’s not it. I’m just not sure any description could do it justice.”

“Please, I’m very curious.” Genuinely, she wasn’t bored at all.

After a brief hesitation, he set down his knife and fork. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, braced his elbows on the table and folded his arms one on top of the other. “The first eight weeks is PT. Physical training. Timed runs, obstacle course, timed swims—and we’re talking in the Pacific. You get used to being frozen, wet and miserable. And no sleep. The worst is Hell Week. I don’t know how many times I almost quit. Our class started with over two hundred guys, and at the end of the six months, only fourteen graduated.”

“Wow.”

“Bellamy was always first to finish everything. Push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups. I’d come straggling in last—or not even finish—and have to do it all over again. Except swimming. Like I said, being good in the water saved me.

“The next eight weeks we still ran the beach, the obstacle or O-course, but we were mainly in the water. Swimming, diving, SCUBA, underwater combat. Holding your breath till you think your lungs will explode.”

Piper couldn’t imagine. Why would anyone volunteer for such hardship?

“The last nine weeks we learned weapons, demolition, patrolling, rappelling and marksmanship.”

“Why put yourself through all that?”

His expression hardened. “My father asked me the same thing. He wanted me to go to law school like him.” He shook his head. “I think he had aspirations of me becoming president someday. But there was no way I was going into politics like my old man.”

He drew in a breath, sat back and, slowly, his eyes lost their glow of resentment. But his jaw was still set with grim determination. “I wanted that trident pin. Like my uncle. I wanted to make my life count for something.”

It occurred to Piper that she was holding her breath. His passion for what he did overwhelmed her. Made her feel horribly insignificant. Neil ensured the safety of millions. She hadn’t even been able to save her brother.

He blinked and reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve never talked this much about myself in my life.”

His fingers heated her, and she curled her hand inward and pulled her fist down into her lap. “I asked you.”

“Still, not exactly an appetizing topic.” Belying his words, he grabbed up his fork and made short work of finishing his steak and potato. Piper forced a few bites of the salad.

“You don’t like the wine?” He finished what was left in his glass and gestured with the stem toward her barely touched one.

She blinked. She’d forgotten about it? “Oh, no, it’s very good.” She grabbed up the glass and swallowed a mouthful.

He stood. “Let’s get out of here.” Without waiting for her response, he motioned to the waiter for a check and signed it, then came around to pull her chair out for her.

Before she could think, he’d taken her hand, helped her into one of the cabs waiting outside, and instructed the driver to take them to The Heat Wave.

The nightclub? Deafening music, flowing alcohol, hordes of bodies all moving to the pounding rhythm in dark anonymity. A place like that was like a drug to her. A drug she’d denied herself for months. Oh, to slip onto the dance floor and lose herself in the intoxicating tempo. She could press against Neil’s hard body and feel his pulse match up with hers. Maybe the press would follow them, snap some pictures... Maybe that would make up for not being seen at the gala tonight. She could even go home with Neil. Spend the night in his arms. And, at least for now, ease the unspeakable loneliness.

But the counselor in rehab had warned her to stay away from old triggers. To try to rise above doing whatever felt good—but was bad—in the moment. And she needed that contract with Modelle so she could afford the private investigators.

She clutched Neil’s arm. “No!”

* * *

NEIL STILLED IN SURPRISE. She didn’t want to go to a nightclub and dance? He’d almost suggested a walk along the beach and then thought better of it. A beautifully exotic woman like Piper, in her slinky dress and heels, walking in the sand and surf? So he’d figured she’d want to dance. Be around a crowd closer that was familiar to her.

She fell back against the seat and rubbed her forehead. “Look, I’m knackered. Can we just go back to my hotel?”

We? Was she inviting him back to her hotel? Desire for her had been a slow burn inside him all evening, waiting for a spark of hope to show itself. Clay was right. Neil had been living like a monk the past six months.

But Neil had pretty much written off the possibility of anything happening with Piper once dinner had started and they’d talked. In some ways, it’d felt like confiding in a close friend. He’d never told anyone about finding his uncle’s letters before. Not Lyndsey, not even Clay. Yet he’d also made a couple of colossal blunders.

“Sure. Where’re you staying?”

“The Saint-Tropez, please.” She answered him and addressed the cabbie at the same time.

The woman was a grenade of contradictions. Her face was a mask of coldness. But her hand trembled. She projected an air of confidence. But she had moments where she seemed unsure of herself and her place in the world. Like now.

She kept her body away from his, leaning toward the opposite window. Though her hand was splayed across the seat and her fingers touched the side of his thigh. She was driving him crazy. He was completely clueless about what she wanted. He’d have to wing it.

Luckily, SEALs were trained to think on their feet.

In no time they pulled up to the Saint-Tropez. Neil paid the cab driver and exited, reaching back to lend Piper his hand. As she stepped elegantly out of the taxi, she was instantly swarmed by clamoring paparazzi. As lightbulbs flashed from all sides, she stiffened. Instinctively, Neil slid a protective arm around her shoulders and pressed her close. But she pulled away and gave a brilliant smile. The crowd shouted her name and stuck cell phones and cameras in her face. Piper posed and looked in the direction her name was called.

Setting his jaw, he shoved through the reporters and propelled her forward, forcing his way through the mob until suddenly they were in the quiet of the hotel lobby.

A few people with cell phones were snapping pictures. He glared at them until they wandered away, then, arm still around her shoulders, he guided her to a secluded sitting area.

Her body was tucked into his, her soft curves flattening against his side. She turned, placed her hands on his chest and looked up. He’d never seen eyes that color. So light a green they were almost silver. And her lips were full and lush. As her lips parted, he caught his breath, lowering his head to kiss her.

At the last second she shifted away, offering her right hand. “Nice to meet you, Neil. Thanks for dinner.”

Before he could blink she was heading for the elevators, leaving him alone and...lonely?

“Hey.” He bolted after her.

She turned and raised a brow, her face the same mask of coldness it had been earlier.

“Can I see your phone a sec?”

She hesitated, but then retrieved it from her minuscule handbag and held it out.

Neil took it, punched in his cell number and placed it back in her hand. “I’m going to be in town until next weekend. Maybe we could see each other again.” Clasping her slender shoulders, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, then walked away.

A half hour later, he claimed a stool next to Clay at the Bay City Bar and Grill.

Clay smirked. “What are you doing here?”

Neil shrugged, motioning to the bartender for a beer. “Beats me.”

“Unbelievable.” Clay shook his head. “Only Straight Arrow Barrow would strike out with a sure thing like Piper.”

“Uh, Bellamy. Why are you sitting here?”

“Hey, I haven’t even started yet.” Clay chuckled. “Women.”

The bartender handed him a brown longneck and Neil clinked his bottle with Clay’s. “Ain’t that the truth?” He took a sip, playing back the evening in his mind.

A sure thing? He didn’t think so.

Maybe Piper had suddenly become exhausted in the cab. But he doubted it. She’d barely touched her wine, and she’d downright panicked at the suggestion of the nightclub. Only two conclusions could be drawn. Either Piper’s antics as a bad girl were purposefully exaggerated—by her publicity team or by the press—or her behavior had undergone a dramatic change. Which was it?

It surprised him how badly he wanted to find out.

3

GO TIME!

Adrenaline pumping, Neil jumped from the helo and fast roped down to the deck of the enemy ship. Pulling his MP-5 over his shoulder, he scanned the area while the rest of his platoon scrambled down. Once everyone landed, they headed below to secure the crew.

Neil darted right, while Deep-dish took the left. Weapon ready, Neil opened the first cabin door and stepped onto...

A white sandy beach. A cool breeze brushed through green palm fronds, and a salty tang hit his nostrils. Seagulls squawked and the surf crashed onto shore. He studied the coastline and spied Piper in the waves, modeling in a hot pink string bikini. She saw him and smiled seductively, wiggling her fingers in greeting.

As if he were watching a film on fast-forward, the tide raced in and the sun set seemingly into the ocean. When the pace slowed to normal, the cameras and her photographer had disappeared. He was alone with Piper and she was in his arms, pressing her lips to his neck. She called his name and let out a soft sigh. Then his mouth was on hers, giving and taking, until she pulled away, laughing, and ran down to the water’s edge. He gave chase.

Catching up to her, he grabbed her around the waist and they fell into the surf, tumbling over each other as they kissed madly. Instantly, he was alone again, lying in the hot desert sand, his arms empty. He looked off to the distance and Iraqi oil fires burned, sending up plumes of black smoke that smothered the sky.

With a groan, Neil woke up, tense, hard and pulsing. He rolled to his back and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. What a dream. Maybe he shouldn’t have checked online about Piper before he turned in.

He’d gone down a Piper rabbit hole last night. She was everywhere, he’d discovered, modeling clothes, makeup and jewelry. She’d made the cover of most major magazines and he could see why. The camera loved the exotic quality about her that he’d witnessed firsthand. And those pictures of her in fancy lingerie had literally haunted his dreams.

He threw back the covers and jumped out of the comfortable hotel bed, slipped on his shorts and T-shirt and headed down to the beach. The sun was just peeking above the horizon and the dawn sky was turning the clouds neon orange. His favorite time of day.

Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings, looking for anything out of place. But the beach was mostly deserted. Only two other runners were anywhere close as he hit the sand at a fast jog toward the hotel where he’d dropped Piper off. Yeah, he knew it was a long shot. But a man made his own luck.

Neil couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to see her again. He was a simple man. He’d strived for a simple life. Piper was complication personified. And he’d had enough complications lately dealing with the fallout from his disastrous marriage.

That was two failed relationships now: first Alexandra—or Alex—and second Lyndsey. He had to conclude that he was doing something wrong. Some flaw in him he couldn’t see. One that involved choosing the wrong mate.

Every SEAL knew the divorce rate in their line of work was higher than average, but he thought he’d chosen carefully when he’d proposed to his childhood friend, literally the girl next door. Clay had warned him about Lyndsey, but then, Clay had vowed never to marry.

Neil scoffed at this train of thought. As if he would, or even could marry a lingerie model. As if she would be interested in a beat-up special-ops guy when she could have any man on the planet. He thought about last night, when she’d sat across from him, asking him about BUD/S. She’d seemed genuinely interested. But it followed that if she knew how to work a crowd, she could certainly work one guy.

She didn’t seem the type who normally tried to spare people’s feelings. When he’d covered her hand with his, she’d practically yanked it away. But not before he’d felt it tremble beneath his touch.

The shoreline curved and Piper’s hotel came into view. As he approached, he wished he’d asked for her number instead of giving her his. But he’d rolled the dice and she needed to be the one to make the call. Stop second-guessing yourself, Barrow.

He came to a halt and peered up at the ten-story art deco hotel. The top two floors were penthouse suites with wraparound balconies. She was probably in one of them. Lifting his shoulder, he used his sleeve to wipe at the sweat dripping down his temple. What had he thought? That she’d be waiting out there like Juliet for his Romeo? She probably wasn’t even awake.

Disgusted with himself, he left and headed back the way he’d come. Tonight he’d be Clay’s wingman at that honky-tonk joint. Piper wasn’t the only woman in Miami.

Even if he couldn’t seem to get her out of his head.

Clear your thoughts.

After another mile he finally slipped into the zone, his body on autopilot. Sounds faded except for the rhythmic thud of his feet hitting the packed sand. He concentrated on the air inhaled through his nose and exhaled from his mouth. By the time he returned to his hotel, he’d restored equilibrium.

As he jogged up to the rear entrance, he spied a guy lurking off to the side. Pulling out his hotel key card, Neil kept one eye on the suspicious figure as he took the steps up from the beach.

“Lieutenant Barrow!” The guy jumped forward and stuck a minirecorder in his face. Neil barely stopped the heel of his palm from connecting with the moron’s nose. “How long have you and Piper been lovers?”

“What?” Neil stared at the guy in disbelief.

“Were you the reason Piper broke Brad Benton’s heart?”

“You people must be hard up for a story.” Swiping his key card, he yanked the door open and entered the hotel.

He was stepping out of the shower when three hard knocks rapped on his door. He dried off, wound a towel around his waist and then checked the peephole before opening the door for his friend.

“Seen the morning headlines?” Clay strode in, tossing several tabloids onto the desk.

Neil glanced at the first one. A grainy and unflattering photo of him with Piper as they were getting out of the cab took up the entire top fold of the front page. The caption was ridiculous.

The Hero and the Bad Girl!

He slid the top tabloid aside. The second one was worse. It featured a similar photo, only in this one he had his arm around her as they headed into the hotel.

Troubled Supermodel Shows Off New Lover!

Neil shook his head and continued to read. “Piper’s new man is a navy SEAL and son of conservative Senator Barrow from Virginia.” Oh, wouldn’t his father love that.

A Model of Good Behavior? “Has Piper reformed or is the SEAL taking a walk on the wild side?”

“I think this one’s my favorite.” With a wink, Clay grabbed up the last one. Neil snatched it from him.

Pipsea! Piper Caught in Steamy Affair With Navy SEAL.

What the— Pipsea? Their names had been shipped? No, wait. It wasn’t even his name, but his profession.

Clay sauntered over to the minifridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “So I get to call you Pipsea now?”

“You do and it’ll be the last thing you remember.”

“You know your old man’s gonna have a fit when he sees this, right?”

As if on cue, Neil’s cell rang. He checked the ID and then sighed, thumb hovering while he glared at Clay. “What’d you do, conjure him up with some weird voodoo spell?”

Clay looked offended. “Hey, just because my grandmamma was Cajun—”

Neil grinned and clicked Accept. “Barrow.”

“Hold for Senator Barrow, please,” a woman’s voice said, then silence. He almost hung up. But he’d only be put on hold the next time. He clicked Speaker and tossed the phone on the bed while he went into the bathroom to dress, still on hold.

When he emerged, Clay was lounging on the club chair, flipping through the tabloid and munching on a granola bar, also from his fridge.

“You already eat everything from your own room?”

Clay opened his mouth to answer.

“Neil, what have you done now?” His father’s voice boomed over the phone.

Clay signaled a five-minute warning to go time, and then stepped out to the balcony.

Thankful for the rescue he knew would be coming in five minutes, Neil grabbed his phone and took it off speaker. “Good morning to you, too, sir.”

“How could you get your name in the tabloids? If you’re going to cheat on your wife, couldn’t you at least be discreet?”

“Ex-wife. And you should know better than to believe anything you read in those rags, Dad.”