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.”
“Whether it’s true or not is irrelevant. What matters is public perception.”
“The truth doesn’t matter? Spoken like a true politician.”
“Maybe you can afford to be flippant, but my staff is fielding calls from every major news outlet. And thanks to your impending divorce, my poll numbers are already down. Or did you forget this is an election year?”
Neil never forgot election years. His father never let him.
“Neil? Did you hear me? Drop that Piper tramp and come back to your wife before it’s too late.”
Tramp? Neil ground his teeth. “Tell Mother I won the yacht race for her charity.” He hung up.
* * *
PIPER SLEPT LATE.
She’d lain in bed for hours last night thinking about the evening. Was that what a real date was like? At first, it’d been...nice. There’d been no game playing. No hidden agendas. Neil might’ve tried to take her dancing, but he hadn’t turned all macho when she’d ended the night early.
She hugged her pillow and relived the feel of his strong arm around her as he’d tried to shield her from the paparazzi. Another first. Not feeling so...alone. For a few blessed moments she’d let go and let someone else bear the burden.
If she was honest, that was probably why she’d scurried up to her room on her own last night. The energy that had sizzled between her and Neil in the lobby when she’d looked into his eyes? It had frightened her how badly she’d wanted to invite him up to her room. But that would’ve changed things between them. And not for the better.
A few months ago she wouldn’t have thought twice about sleeping with a man like that. But after the nasty incident at the cruise terminal, she’d had an epiphany of sorts. She’d looked back on her behavior the past five years, ever since she’d gotten control of her own money. And she’d been rather ashamed of herself. What would Nandan think of her?
Once she finally had fallen asleep her dreams were of her brother. Always of him. Always a variation of the same nightmare she’d had since landing in London. She and Nandan climbing over the great mountain of rubbish in Delhi—amazing how the stench could smell so real in a dream. Nandan joyously finding a half-eaten roti. They’d shared the flatbread that day. A good day. But the dream always distorted into her searching and searching for Nandan, wandering the streets, calling her brother’s name until she woke up crying.
Wiping her eyes, she sat up and padded to the bathroom to splash water on her face. A quick brush of her teeth, then she pulled on her workout clothes and went to the hotel gym for her two-hour regime.
By the time she’d returned, showered and dressed, Ragi was at the door. Piper let her in, and then sat at the table, her stomach growling.
Ragi was beaming, carrying a stack of newspapers and Piper’s protein shake. “It worked!” She dropped the papers onto th
e table.
“What worked?” Piper took the shake with a grimace. What she wouldn’t give for a rasher of bacon and eggs.
“The visit to the children’s hospital. And your date with the SEAL. The press has gone wild speculating about your affair. They’re saying you must have reformed your bad-girl ways since this hero is dating you.”
Piper read one of the headlines. “Oh, no.” Her stomach cramped.
“What do you mean, oh, no?” Ragi sat down on the other chair, scrolled through her mobile and then thumbed a short text message to someone before looking up. “This is what we wanted.”
“Ragi, this paper says that we’re lovers. How is that good?”
Ragi waved away the concern. “As long as they don’t have naked pictures of you two together or—” she gave Piper a meaningful glare “—another sex tape, it’s all good.” She pointed at one newspaper. “This one says that’s why you visited the children’s hospital, because this guy is a good influence on you. The PR firm is already spinning the story of you dating a navy SEAL. Trust me. Now, what time are you seeing him tonight? I’ve just scheduled you to visit the veteran’s facility this afternoon, isn’t that perfect? The press will be there, so be sure to find a navy vet and—”
“No.”
“Get your pic—what?”
“Ragi, I won’t exploit men and women who’ve been wounded in the service of their country. I’m not going.”
“It’s not exploitation. It’s bringing attention to their plight.”
“And I’m not going to see Neil again.”
“But your PR people want you to. This could be better for your career than a dozen charity events.” Her assistant acted as if the subject was settled.
“Ragi, it’s not fair to use him to fix my career. Besides, I have that lingerie shoot in Sweden next week. I thought we were leaving for the UK tomorrow. Won’t the press just label me a callous heartbreaker again?”
“Not fair to him how? He’s a senator’s son. I’m sure he’s accustomed to handling a little publicity. And we can stay in Miami for a few more days. Get some sun, repair your rep here. That’s the beauty of having a SEAL for a boyfriend. If he’s always away on a secret mission, how can they blame you for not being with him?”
Fevered Nights Page 3