Wicked Nights

by Anne Marsh

  “If they have to buddy breathe, they’ll take the longer surface swim. I’m going to jump with another tank so we can speed that process up.”

  “I’ll go,” he said.

  Falling into a mission mindset was easy. Stop. Assess. Act. Moving rapidly, he grabbed gear, loading the lift swiftly before flying up the path, forcing the air in and out of his lungs in a steady rhythm. He wouldn’t be any good to Piper and Sal if he winded himself. At the top, Carla helped him gear up, her eyes scanning the ocean below them.

  “I still don’t see them,” she said. “They should have surfaced inside the bay or out.”

  “Walk me through it.” He moved to the edge.

  Jumping was the easy part. The part after was the problem. Carla hesitated, her hand on his tank.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  She was female and she’d dived twice today. Neither of them needed him to point out that her build put her at a disadvantage in this race. He was bigger and he was fresh. Carrying double tanks wasn’t a challenge for him—and it was his job, his contract, his...Piper down there.

  He nodded. “I’m good.”

  “Okay. We dived, and Piper led us through the course you’d mapped up. We were at the final meeting point, taking turns ascending, when Sal ran into a problem. Based on what I saw, I’m guessing he ran low on air and hyperventilated.”

  There was still no sign of divers on the surface, but he couldn’t see the open water where Daeg and his companion were.

  “You’re good.” Carla slapped his shoulder. “She’s probably got this, but—”

  But taking the chance was stupid. Normally, he’d stick with the boat, maybe motor around to see if he could spot them, but a two-hundred-twenty-pound man with a chip on his shoulder and no air was a recipe for disaster.

  He stepped onto the edge.

  Looked down.

  Big mistake. He’d dived from this cliff dozens, if not hundreds, of times before, but his head was reminding him that he couldn’t dive anymore, and his legs locked up, refusing to take him past the edge. Once he jumped, there was no do over. No going back. With the weight belt and the double tanks, he’d sink hard and fast. He didn’t want to jump, but that was his head talking. His heart knew right where he belonged. He couldn’t stay out of the water when Piper was risking it all.

  “Get back to the boat,” he said to Carla. “Bring it around the breakwater. Keep an eye out for Daeg and Margie, and I’ll bring Sal and Piper to the surface wherever they are.”

  “Got it.” She hesitated and then stepped back. “Good luck.”

  One. Two.

  On three, he stepped off the edge of the cliff.

  Going down was the easy part. Gravity did all the work. All he had to do was keep his flippers pointed down and his arms crossed over his chest. Oh, and not think about what was coming next. He ripped through the surface and sank fast, the extra weight on his belt pulling him down.

  Ten feet. Fifteen. He spotted, trying to orient himself and...cue the panic. His heart raced and he gulped air, his fingers going numb. Breathe, he reminded himself. Breathe and count. One. He passed twenty feet, his descent slowing. Two. His heartbeat deafened him, his chest constricting. Four. Piper smiling as she rode the swing ride. Five. Piper on the back of his Harley. Six. Piper on his kitchen counter. So, okay, that one hadn’t happened yet, but a man could dream. He forced himself deeper.

  * * *

  SPOTS DANCED IN front of her eyes. Chest burning, she reached for her regulator, but Sal wasn’t in a sharing mood. He jammed her regulator into his mouth and breathed frantically. Her tank was running dangerously light now, too. She stretched for her alternate air supply, hooking her fingers around the secondary regulator.

  The thing was Sal had to calm down. Shooting the slide with him wasn’t an option—even if he hadn’t been in full-blown panic mode, safely positioning two divers sharing a single tank was out of the question. Her best bet was to get him to surface in a controlled ascent. Carla would alert Cal, and the dive boat could come around and pick them up.

  The shark picked that moment to peek back out from its kelp refuge, and Sal started jettisoning weights from his belt. Darn it. If he made an emergency ascent too quickly and without the required safety stops, he’d definitely be paying a visit to the decompression chamber on the mainland.

  She needed help.

  A second tank.

  Or, hey, since she was brainstorming, a big stick to knock some sense into Sal. She needed to breathe, and she needed to get Sal to the surface, but the man wasn’t letting her get on with either job.

  Sal jerked hard on her harness a second time, clearly intending to take her—or her air supply—with him. Yeah. Good luck, since she was still harnessed in.

  Big hands reached around her. Thank God, the cavalry had arrived. Piper had never been so glad that Cal was a big man. He effortlessly manhandled Sal away from her, inserting his body between them as he held up a small, bright yellow tank and regulator. He motioned for Sal to put the regulator in his mouth. As soon as the other man did, Cal activated the bottle of emergency air.

  He’d brought a spare for her, too, and she gladly switched over to it. While he reweighted Sal, who was sucking on the backup air, she checked out Cal. He’d dived. The bubbles from his regulator were a little too fast and hard, but he wasn’t hightailing it for the surface.

  She signed, “You okay?”

  He nodded and signaled for an ascent.

  She was so on board with his plan.

  Ten minutes later, they were floating on the surface. Sal wouldn’t look her in the eye as he started ranting about faulty gear and a stuck valve.

  “Who checked your gear?” Cal’s voice was icy calm as he cut Sal off midsentence.

  Sal spluttered before admitting the truth. “Piper did.”

  “And did she say your gear was good to go?”

  “She did,” Sal admitted.

  “And did you adjust your gear after she’d given you the good-to-go?”

  Sal opened his mouth. Closed it. Yep. He apparently had a pretty good idea that he’d emptied his own tank. “I wasn’t getting enough air,” he said defensively.

  “Piper did a damned fine job.” Cal’s tone dared Sal to contradict him.

  Sal, not being stupid, kept his mouth shut.

  * * *

  PIPER AND CAL dropped the Fiesta team off at their hotel. Sal took the opportunity to get in one last crack at his defective tank—Piper was certain no one but Sal believed his story—and then she headed back to Dream Big and Dive. She needed to get out of her wet gear and into something dry. She also needed a drink after today’s drama, but that would have to come later.

  “Are you coming in?” she asked, unlocking the door.

  Cal shot her a look she couldn’t interpret.

  “I didn’t deliberately sabotage your dive,” she said in self-defense. “I don’t think any of us could have predicted Sal’s overreaction to a horn shark.”

  He took her gear bag from her and pushed the door open. “I never thought you did.”

  “Oh.” She stepped inside and he followed, closing and locking the door behind them. “You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

  “Today didn’t go as planned,” he admitted. “You had my back, Piper. I’d be a first-class asshole if I questioned how you did it.”

  She waved a hand. “Well, you do have your moments.” Laughing, she danced away from him when he pretended to swat her butt. “Keep the kinky stuff to yourself.”

  “You did a good job,” he said. “You kept Sal from drowning himself or surfacing too fast. He may be way down at the bottom of our favorite-persons list, but he’s also not spending the next couple of hours in a decompression chamber.”

  She made a face. “Yeah. I rocked, right up until the point he snagged my regulator from me.”

  “He weighs two hundred pounds. You weigh—” He checked himself.

  “Wise move.” She grinned. “And
don’t finish your sentence.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “And I appreciate the assist,” she said more seriously. “That’s the second time you’ve jumped in to rescue me.”

  “In one piece is good,” he said roughly. “I like you whole, Piper.”

  Too bad she always came apart in his arms.

  “I’m going to change,” she yelled, refusing to think right now about how he made her feel. Instead, she headed into the backroom. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home.”

  Part of her wanted to invite him back and try out a few late-night fantasies of hers but, really, the dive shop was both a little too public—and too uncomfortable. She was definitely a fan of mattresses. She stripped off quickly, pulling on a pink sundress and panties. Her phone rang right as she finished up—Jaws again—so she headed back out front as she answered.

  “I’ve got a second offer,” Del said before she could get further than hello.

  “There’s a surprise.” Today had not gone well. “And hello to you, too.”

  “I need a yes or no from you.”

  “You promised me two weeks,” she said. Cal raised an eyebrow and motioned to ask if he should step outside. The gesture was sweet, but he didn’t need to go. She shook her head and made a stay gesture. “I’ll hear about the Fiesta contract later this week.”

  “Piper—” Just once, she wanted someone to say her name without sighing or groaning in frustration. Although she might cut Cal a break. She grinned. He groaned so well.

  “I’ll have an answer for you soon,” she promised and hung up.

  * * *

  “BAD NEWS?” GIVEN how stormy Piper’s face looked right now, Cal figured he knew the answer to his question.

  “Not yet.” She sighed and tossed her phone into her bag. “I own only a partial interest in Dream Big and Dive. Del, my former coach, put in eighty percent of the cash, so he’s calling the shots and he wants to sell.”

  “Ouch.” Piper liked being the one in control, which he completely got. He felt the same way himself. She’d put a lot of effort into the business, as well, so having someone threaten to pull the rug out from underneath her would be a blow.

  “So...when I win the Fiesta contract, I’ll be able to line up financing.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  She waved a hand toward the shop. “Then Del will sell his interest to someone else. I’d rather own my own place.”

  “You really think he’d sell to someone else when you’ve expressed an interest?”

  She made a face. “He already has two cash offers. I mean, really? Who knew a used dive shop on Discovery Island would be such a hot commodity?”

  Since she was looking up, she didn’t catch the moment he froze because...yeah. He knew precisely who was bidding on her place, didn’t he? Probably. He didn’t know for certain, he reminded himself. Still, since it couldn’t hurt to double-check, he texted Tag to look into the purchase. Surely he hadn’t just tried to buy her place out from underneath her.

  He’d accidentally taken one dream away from her when his motor boat had crashed into her Jet Ski, so fate must be laughing her ass off at the possibility that he was about to K.O. another dream.

  “Thanks,” he said as his phone vibrated.

  “I owed you one.” She didn’t look like she was in any hurry to leave. Instead, she peered down the street. “Did you bring the Harley or the truck today?”

  “Truck. Piper—”

  Her fingers walked up his arm. “Someone might owe someone else a night.”

  “True.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Is this someone interested in settling up tonight?”

  “I’d never renege on a bet. Are you collecting?”

  “Absolutely.”

  13

  “MY PLACE?” HE LIKED the breathless sound of her question. Liked knowing she was as hot for him as he was for her.

  “Mine.” He definitely wanted to see her in his bed, her hair spread out over his pillow. If that made him some kind of atavistic Neanderthal, it didn’t make the urge any less true.

  She didn’t protest, so he took advantage of her easy agreement to push for taking his truck. She protested but only briefly. Five minutes later, they were zipping down the coastal road toward his cottage. She’d started the ride in her own seat, but as soon as they cleared the main town, she’d scooted nearer. Her hand on his leg moved closer and closer to the danger zone. He had no idea how she expected him to drive.

  “Piper.” Her name came out more growl than not.

  “Cal?” She tucked herself against his side, her eyes twinkling up at him. She was good at keeping him off balance, he admitted. He never knew what she’d do next, just that it would be unpredictable.

  “You might want to think twice about what you’re doing before I drive us off the road.” He enjoyed her touch, plain and simple, but he needed to keep his mind on the road.

  She made a show of looking out the window. His window. Piper clearly liked living dangerously, because her breasts brushed his shoulder. Twice.

  “At least it would be a water landing. We could play rescue swimmer.”

  Right. He shook his head. And drove a little faster.

  “You really want to play it safe?” she asked, when he didn’t say anything.

  “Five minutes. Then you can be as bad as you want.”

  “As I want?” she asked.

  “Or I want,” he said, knowing he was smiling.

  She settled back in her seat, a grin playing over her own mouth. He had the urge to lean over and kiss it off. “You need to learn to take a few chances,” she said.

  The turn to his place appeared on their right, and he steered the truck down the winding driveway.

  “Not right now.” He threw the parking brake on and killed the engine. “Last stop.”

  “You probably locked your door, too,” she said, ignoring him.

  The action was simply prudent. Piper was waiting for him when he came around the truck, however, so all thoughts of caution flew out of his head. When her fingers walked over his hip, exploring his pocket, he knew she could feel the thick ridge of his erection.

  “Got it.” She produced his keys with a little flourish.

  “You bet.” He dropped a quick, hard kiss on her mouth and then threaded his fingers through hers, tugging her toward the door. Getting the key in the lock, he flipped it open as he kissed her again. She laughed against his mouth, the husky, warm sound flooding him with another feeling as he pulled her inside.

  “I’m not sure you needed to bother locking up.” She was breathless when she pulled her mouth away from his, laughing as she surveyed his place or what there was of it. He’d opened up one wall of the kitchen in order to rewire and rip out siding that had been riddled with dry rot. As a result, his kitchen “wall” consisted of a blue plastic tarp and several yards of caution tape.

  “Feel free to leave and come back in through the alternate exit,” he said drily. Her answering laughter lit up her face, forming small crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She was beautiful, standing there in his house.

  “I’ll stay put.” She gave him another smile. “Maybe next time.”

  His kitchen definitely wasn’t winning any design awards. It still had the avocado-green appliances and the worn-out linoleum installed at least four decades ago by the original owner. Cal had decorated with stacks of paint cans, tools, and—she counted—three toolboxes. If he owned a kitchen table and chairs—or even pots, pans, anything remotely kitchenlike—she didn’t see them in here.

  “Kitchens are for cooking,” she pointed out.

  “And eating,” he agreed. “Mine’s a work in progress.”

  * * *

  “I HAVE AN IDEA,” he said.

  “Oh?” Her rescue swimmer had a wicked look in his eyes as he prowled toward her.

  “You don’t seem to have the proper respect for my kitchen. I think I should rectify that.”
/>   “Did you bring me here for my opinion on your remodeling skills?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Not a chance,” he said, and in one smooth move, he picked her up and set her on the counter. Then he stepped in, his palms on either side of her. The look in his eyes, hungry and wild, had her heart aching for him. She was proud of what he’d accomplished as a SEAL. Part of her wished she could tell him just how proud she was, but his diving issues bothered him and she was afraid he’d misinterpret her words.

  “Kissing time?” Heat curled through her belly. Hooking her legs around his waist, she rested her heels on his fine butt and ran her hands up his chest.

  “Absolutely.”

  He captured her hands and curled them around the edges of the countertop. His thumbs stroked her fingers and palms as he positioned her.

  “Don’t let go.”

  “Are we playing kinky games now?” Oh, how she hoped so.

  He gave her an amused look. “You have an impressive imagination.”

  He placed his hands on her knees, stepping in farther until her thighs were spread apart and she felt the heat and hardness of his chest. His hands pushed gently, then stroked upward, pulling up the filmy skirt of her sundress. The adrenaline rush of diving, of competing, warred with Sal’s accident and Cal’s calm, determined rescue. Cal had been as effortlessly in control of that as he was of this moment.

  Deliberately, he eased her back on the countertop, pulling her legs over his shoulders. Definitely promising.

  Warm hands slid beneath her and cupped her butt as a wicked mouth blew gently over the center of her panties.

  “Really? Right here?”

  “Mmm. You accused me of never being spontaneous. I’m working on changing for you.”

  She forgot all about the cool counter as he tucked an old sweatshirt beneath her head. The cotton smelled like his soap and an outdoorsy, fresh scent. Please, please, please, let this be as good as she remembered. She tugged on her ear for luck.

  His fingers caught hers. “You don’t need luck.”

  “A girl can never have too much luck.”