Wicked Nights

“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.

* * *

PIPER CLARK 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.”

2

DISCOVERY ISLAND HAD bars for tourists (all with kitschy names like Devil’s Wine and Beer and Skittles) and then there were the places for residents. Diver’s Haven was mostly a local scene since the bar was tucked off the main boardwalk. It wasn’t precisely a hole-in-the-wall, but the place hadn’t exactly earned a prime spot in the local food and wine department, either. It did, however, have cold beer and satellite TV. Tonight, Cal appreciated both. Going head-to-head earlier with Piper had been the icing on a frustrating day of broken equipment, canceled dives and a boat engine leaking enough oil to re-create the Exxon Valdez.

The bar propping him up was made from salvaged driftwood, an artistic touch he’d always suspected had been Big Petey, the bar’s owner, being cheap rather than fashion-forward, given the booths with cracked vinyl seats. Neon lights in the window advertised brands Big Petey had no intention of stocking and the jukebox worked intermittently, rather like its owner. Big Petey also extended credit to anyone and everyone and had more dishwashers than he did bar glasses because he was incapable of turning down a job seeker. Big Petey was a good man, and he’d never seemed to mind Cal wasn’t much of a drinker.

Cal had a one-beer limit. Alcohol wasn’t advisable when training, and he wanted his head back in the game. Plus, he’d seen more than one good soldier lose himself inside a bar. So, for the moment, he settled for just sitting at the bar, empty bottle in front of him. The game played on the big screen, and the clack of balls from the pool tables in the back competed with the occasional groan as a batter struck out. Tag and Daeg, fellow former rescue swimmers and current co-owners of Deep Dive, had moved on to the backroom and a game of pool and talking trash. More words flew than balls when those two played, only proving that nothing much had changed since their last tour of duty together. He still thanked his lucky stars every day that he’d been able to convince them to move up here from San Diego and join him rather than reenlisting.

Big Petey looked over at him when a commercial came on. “You ready for another?”

He didn’t want to put the man out of business. “If you make it a cola.”

Big Petey also didn’t stock any name-brand sodas. Local gossip alternately claimed he’d outspent his account with both major distributors or referenced the man’s legendary cheapness. Since the stuff Big Petey poured was no better or worse than what Cal had drunk in dozens of overseas ports, and had bubbles, Cal didn’t care which version of the story was true.

Big Petey grabbed the dirty glass and stowed it somewhere beneath the bar. “You’re making me a rich man, Brennan.”

At least he’d merited a clean glass. Maybe. After all, he couldn’t see exactly where the new glass Big Petey slapped down on the bar had come from. It was possible his original glass had simply round-tripped. Big Petey aimed the soda gun in the glass’s general direction and squeezed.

“Drinks taste a whole heck of a lot better with rum.” Big Petey did not have a personal one-beer limit, and Cal’s choice of beverage was a constant source of amusement for the other man.

“Big Petey makes an excellent point.” The scent of apples and something floral surrounded him as Piper slid onto the empty barstool beside him, resting her bare arms on the counter.

A big grin creased Big Petey’s face. “If it isn’t our world champion.”

Piper made a face. “I didn’t compete.”

Big Petey grabbed another glass—from the shelf behind him, so definitely clean—and carefully set it down on a cocktail napkin in front of Piper. Piper also merited a bowl of peanuts. If Cal hadn’t already known the other man had been nursing a soft spot for Piper, he now had all the proof he needed.

“You’ll always be my champion,” Big Petey said gruffly. “I’d have been sitting here in the bar, watching you win gold, if you’d gone to the world championships.”

Piper smiled and mimed blowing kisses while admiring an imaginary medal. Cal bet it was indeed gold in her imagination. Piper had never settled for being anything but the best. He had no idea how she could handle the constant references to her almost-successes, but she always had a smile when her spot on the team was mentioned, even if she usually changed the topic immediately. She’d had to drop out after the accident because, as superhumanly competitive as Piper was, even she couldn’t force her knee to heal fast enough for the world championships.

Sure enough, she pointed to Cal’s glass and deflected Big Petey’s interest in her diving dreams. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

Big Petey huffed. “Jack and cola. Coming right up.”

Piper snagged a handful of peanuts. “Cal here is predictable. He’s downing straight-up soda, and we all know it.”

He wasn’t that predictable. Was he? He turned on his stool and reached in to steal a handful of peanuts from Piper. And...wow. She hadn’t been wearing that dress earlier. In fact, he was certain he’d never seen her sleeveless mint-green number before. Little stripes covered the fabric, making him want to look closer, or maybe it was the woman in the dress. The thing had a neck high enough to pass muster with the most conservative of audiences—apparently he’d seen all he was seeing today of Piper’s breasts—but a dearth of fabric south of her butt, stopping a good two inches above her bare knees. She wore a pair of those sandals with laces that wrapped around her ankles and calves and made him think about unwrapping. Piper dressed up was dangerous.

She tugged the peanut bowl out of his reach. “Those are mine.”

Her eyes laughed at him, so he snagged a second handful.

“You bet. That’s what makes them taste so good.”

“You don’t change.” She sighed dramatically and then raised her glass in the air. “Cheers.”

“Right back at you.” He clinked his glass against hers. For a few minutes, they nursed their drinks companionably while the home team struck out on the television.

Daeg slid between them, depositing two empty bottles on the bar. “Wow. Now, here’s a sight you don’t see every day. There’s only twelve inches between the two of you, and no one’s fighting.”

“We don’t fight all the time,” Piper protested. “And you just took up all the space anyhow.”

Daeg eyed the peanuts and she nudged the bowl toward him. “Consider it a public service,” he said.

“Hey,” Cal protested at the peanut move. “You’re discriminating.”

Piper flashed him a grin as Big Petey swapped out Daeg’s empties. “You bet.”

“We get along.” Right. Like cats and dogs, oil and water...he could trot out every hackneyed, clichéd comparison and they’d all be accurate. He and Piper fought. Sparred. Lived to one-up each other.

Piper swiveled on her stool, her knee brushing his thigh. He did his best to ignore the small contact.

“Sometimes.” Daeg raised his bottle to Piper. “Cheers. But most of the time, the two of you are either fighting or daring each other to do stupid crap. I grew up here, too. I know exactly what the two of you got up to.”

Piper shrugged modestly. “What can I say? Cal here is suggestible.”

“Someone here is also a sucker for crazy dares,” Cal pointed out.

Piper had never met a dare she wouldn’t take. She’d done all sorts of crazy things over the years. She’d gone cliff jumping at midnight (which was when he’d discovered his calling as a rescue swimmer). Ridden in a string bikini printed with the American flag down the boardwalk on the back of his Harley (one of his all-time favorite memories). She’d engaged in a very failed attempt at bison tipping, after arguing that the island’s bison and cows were more or less interchangeable, and had instead discovered that bison patties stank to high heaven. She’d made him buy her a pair of new sneakers after that one, which he’d thought was fair.

Her grin lit up her face. “You should take more chances.”

Over his dead body. “And you’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Her hand rubbed the scar on her knee self-consciously. They didn’t talk about the Jet Ski accident that had put an end to her diving career. She’d come far too close to dying. Fortunately, he’d completed emergency medical training as part of his rescue-swimmer education. After he’d saved her, he’d staunched the bleeding and thanked God a major artery had been missed. The crystal clear water of Discovery Island had looked like a bad shark attack had occurred that day.

“You up for a game of pool?” She practically jumped off the barstool as she made her getaway.

Daeg looked at him. “Nice going, asshole. Now, go make it up to her.”

“By letting her win?”

Cal collected their glasses. He debated grabbing the peanuts, too, but he wasn’t a waiter and Piper was already marching across the bar toward the pool tables in the backroom. She clearly expected him to follow, and he felt guilty enough for bringing up bad memories to indulge her.

Daeg shook his head. “No one lets Piper do anything. She just does it. She’ll win fair and square on her own.”

That was true, too. He followed her while he chewed on that one.

The bar’s pool table setup was ad hoc at best. Big Petey had gone for the more-is-better approach and shoehorned two pool tables into a space meant for one. The proximity didn’t leave a whole lot of room to maneuver.

Piper grabbed a cue stick from the rack on the wall, inspected the tip and leaned her hip against the table. She was good at looking confident. He’d give her that.

“Perfect. You’re in,” she said when he stepped into the room.

“Piper.” Her name came out as a growl.

“Watch,” Daeg said to Tag. Apparently, he hadn’t been able to resist the promise of a free show. “I’m predicting another crazy bet.”

“Twenty bucks,” Cal said, knowing she wanted something more than his cash. She probably would negotiate for his shaving his head bald or singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” in a monkey suit when the cruise ship docked, or any other embarrassing trick she could dream up.

“As if.” She waved a hand. “I don’t play for peanuts. Make it a hundred.”

They didn’t usually play for cash, but Piper couldn’t be making bank at the dive shop. She’d also bought in and owned part of the place, which had probably left her cash poor. Since he had plenty of cash, he was happy to share with her. It would mean losing intentionally, but as long as he made it look good...making sure Piper was fed and happy was worth it. Despite the way they constantly butted heads, he’d never wanted her upset or miserable.

“Ladies first.”

She rolled her eyes. “Way to set yourself up for the loss.”

He’d played her more times than he could count. Hell. He’d taught her to play. She was good, but he was better. He handed their drinks to Daeg and racked the balls.

She tugged on her ear and bent over the table. He’d seen her make the lucky gesture countless times on the diving platform, right before she hurtled through the air and ripped her entry. It must have worked, because she broke straight on, the balls scattering.

When the five ball rolled into the pocket, she straightened up. “Stripes. My favorite. It must be my lucky night.”

* * *

PIPER HAD NO idea why she’d gotten dressed up just to swing by Big Petey’s place. She’d been bored and lonely, though, going more than a little stir-crazy out at her place alone, so she’d hopped into her truck. Possibly, she’d headed here because she was almost certain to find Cal nursing a soda if he was at loose ends. Needling him was pure fun, plus the man seriously begged for a shaking up. Mr. Safety lived and played by the rules.

Growing up, their crazy bets had been a regular summer occurrence. She’d come out to Discovery Island and spend two months indulging in soft-serve ice cream, motorboat rides—and daring Cal. Even then, before he’d become a U.S. Navy rescue swimmer and moved on to rescuing the more deserving than she, he’d wanted to save her from herself.

She’d always been the bigger daredevil of the two of them. He’d rise to the occasion, but invariably remained so serious during the execution of their bets. He was a good sport when he lost, too, although he never lost by nearly as much as she wanted him to. Cal excelled at strategic thinking and, once he was in, he was all in.

She looked over at him, taking his measure. He didn’t look worried about their current bet. “You remember the last time we played pool?”

“Four years ago?” He sounded certain.

“The game that ended with you skinny-dipping in the mayor’s pool?”

He hadn’t expected to lose that particular game of pool, but he’d walked the four blocks to the mayor’s house, with her tagging along. Then he’d hopped the fence, lent her a hand as she scrambled over the top, awkwardly because her knee had been a hot mess, and proceeded to nonchalantly strip off. Good times. She’d give Cal credit. He always kept his word.

“Some things are hard to forget,” he agreed.

She wondered if now was the time to admit she’d snapped not one but six pictures of his amazing butt as he’d jumped into the pool. She’d hung on to those pictures, too, although she planned on claiming they were blackmail material.

Like them all, he was a little older now, but she’d bet he still looked spectacular naked. When she’d walked into the bar, he’d been staring at his empty soda glass, lost in thought. The scruff on his jaw and the faded pair of blue jeans and polo shirt weren’t military issue, but there was no mistaking him for anything but a soldier. He’d also looked alone somehow, even in the middle of the bar’s cheerful chaos, and that wasn’t right. Sliding onto the stool beside him had seemed natural.

Imagine that.

While she and Cal had never been enemies, they’d never been close friends, either. Between competing to one-up each other and his annoying insistence he knew best, they’d been at odds more often than not, and the days of simply hanging out together had ended with her family vacations. He’d joined the U.S. Navy; she’d gone to college and been headed for a professional diving career. All of which meant they’d met up infrequently in the past few years. And yet...it certainly hadn’t escaped her attention that they invariably rubbed each other the wrong way when they shared air space.

Grasping the base of the cue with her right hand, she rested the stick on the edge of the table. “You might want to back up. Bodily injury isn’t on tonight’s agenda.”

“Thank God,” Daeg muttered behind them and took a drink of what she was fairly certain was her soda.

Spreading her legs slightly, she leaned in and lined up the tip against the cue ball. “Three ball.”

Take that. Her shot produced a smooth, fast line to the ball, and it dropped into the pocket with a satisfying thud.

“Seven ball.” This time, it took a softer touch to send the ball into the pocket.

Daeg whooped. “She’s taking you to the cleaners.”

Then, darn it, the four ball ricocheted off the table’s side, and she knocked one of Cal’s balls into the pocket.

“My turn,” he announced, satisfaction filling his voice.

* * *

CAL BIT BACK a grin. That was his Piper. She’d gone all out, and her all-in strategy had backfired. Spectacularly. If he sank his seven balls, the game was his. So much for losing intentionally.

He looked over at her. “What do you think I should buy with my hundred bucks?”

He wouldn’t actually take her money, but teasing her was too much fun to resist. She belted out a curse and stepped away.

“Didn’t I hear you were trying to stop cursing?” His mother had pointedly mentioned Piper’s endeavor, apparently under the mistaken belief Cal might want to try the same himself.