Wicked Nights

by Anne Marsh

  And...bingo.

  Piper stood at the very front of the ferry, fingers wrapped around the guardrail. Thank God—he had an immediate flashback to the summer she’d decided to reenact the Titanic and pretended to be the woman on the masthead. Then, she’d stood on the railings—on the outside—her arms flung wide, hair blowing in the breeze. It had been a testament to her sense of balance and the existence of guardian angels that she hadn’t toppled off and been sucked under the ferry.

  She was wearing the business-casual number she’d worn to her Fiesta presentation and the short white dress drove him just as crazy today as it had then. She also had her earbuds in, so once again, she hadn’t heard him bellowing her name. That was apparently going to be a pattern in their relationship. He’d deal with it. He moved up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged the earbuds free.

  “Your music’s too loud.” Shit. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

  She looked surprised to see him, which didn’t bode well. Then she glared down at his arm. “Let go.”

  The ferry gave a deafening warning blast of its horn, and the pace picked up twenty feet away, down on the dock. Fewer than ten minutes until departure. He had no idea how to explain.

  “Cal?”

  “Stay.” Okay, so his words had come out more order than request. Old habits died hard and she’d probably make him work on his delivery. If he could convince her to stay.

  “Excuse me?” Her head snapped up, her mouth opening in shock. Yeah. He definitely needed to work on his delivery.

  “With me, Piper. Stay with me. Don’t go.”

  She shook her head. “That’s...” She inhaled deeply, her fingers tightening on the railing. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

  “Stay with me,” he repeated. Jesus. He had what, nine minutes? He should have prepared a speech. Run through some words in his head instead of hopping on his bike and driving like a man mad.

  “For how long, Cal? How well do you think we’d work together at Dream Big and Dive? You won. I lost.”

  “This isn’t about winning or losing.” He moved forward, trapping her between his body and the railing. When she wriggled furiously, he wrapped a leg around hers. The move wasn’t nice, but he had only eight minutes.

  “The he-man routine isn’t working for me,” she warned.

  “I’ll adjust,” he offered.

  “Right.” She wriggled again, and he was pretty certain there would be at least a dozen pictures of them on Facebook within the hour.

  Her gaze roamed over his face, searching for something. He needed words, directions...a clue. Instead, he got nothing.

  “I want a second chance,” he said. “I want you to believe me on this.”

  * * *

  CAL WRAPPED HIS arms tight around her as he took shameless advantage of being bigger and stronger. She wriggled one more time, just to make the point that she was a strong, independent woman, and then she let herself relax against him. He felt so good, solid and warm, and apparently her inner wild child liked being manhandled—just a little—because she suddenly had a whole lot less interest in being on time for her appointment with the bank officer.

  “A second chance at what?” she asked.

  His sigh fanned her hair.

  “Everything, Piper.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  They’d kissed. They’d made love—okay, it turned out she’d made love and maybe he’d been more in it for the hot sex—and they’d looked out for each other. That wasn’t really a long-term relationship. Cal wasn’t offering her a solid reason to stay. He might say he wanted a second chance at them, but she didn’t know whether he meant at the dive shop—or her heart.

  “I need to go,” she said quietly.

  He looked down at her. “Is that really what you want?”

  She’d spent her whole life competing, in it to win it. She’d always gone all out, because coming in second didn’t count. It had always been about making it to the podium. About being, not just good enough, but the very best. She’d taken chances to get to that point, chances that sometimes paid off and sometimes ended in disaster. It was the nature of the game. Cal was a fighter, too, but he’d fought for people. She’d fought for herself. That didn’t make her like herself very much right now. Worse, her heart broke at the thought of Cal walking away from her. What if having temporarily had him was worse than not having had him at all?

  “I think there’s a good chance we’re good at fighting—and at chemistry,” she said carefully. His mouth quirked, the familiar gesture making her want to stay in his arms forever. “But you’re the one who keeps telling me not to take chances, Cal. To look before I leap.”

  This time, when she twisted, he let her go. The ferry blew its last warning blast, the engines revving and churning up the water. The gangway rattled as it was withdrawn.

  “You’re going to miss your exit,” she warned.

  “I was wrong,” he said, not moving.

  That made two of them. She didn’t want to compete with him, as fun as that had been. She wanted to compete for him, but that was a game where she didn’t know the rules or even if he wanted her entry.

  “I love you,” he said. “And I think you should take a chance on us, because I’m sure going to.”

  She took a step back and watched him. Instead of heading for the exit, he turned and walked over to the railing. The ferry lurched forward, moving slowly away from the dock.

  “I’m hoping you might consider loving me back.”

  His words hung in the air between them.

  “Cal—”

  “Jump with me?” he asked and held out a hand. “Take a chance. Be a daredevil. Do it because you can.” His mouth curved. “Because I dare you. And because I’m still scared shitless of going under, but I’ll take that chance with you.”

  Wow. He had her there. Cal never took unnecessary risks. Never jumped without an action plan and a good reason. Not sure what to say, she walked over to him and stared over the side. The ferry was still moving slowly. Only a hundred yards to shore, she decided. Or possibly two hundred, if they aimed for the beach instead of the dock. They’d both made far longer swims.

  She looked at him. He waited, watching.

  “You think we’d get pulled under the ferry? No. Don’t answer.”

  He grinned instead, and her heart pounded, a sweet, warm sensation spreading everywhere inside her. Honestly, she’d take her chances on surviving the jump with the right partner. With Cal. She toed off her shoes and picked them up.

  Half the ferry’s passengers appeared to be staring at them—and she was fairly certain the ferry might, just possibly, be slowing down. Those were good odds.

  “Ready?” he asked, eyeing her shoes.

  “You bet.”

  Together they clambered over the side. Her dress presented an unexpected challenge, but screw it. If she was really planning on jumping off a ferry, flashing a few innocent bystanders was the least of her worries. Cal steadied her anyhow, as she swung her legs over.

  Cal glanced down. “I must be crazy,” he muttered.

  “Crazy for me.” She laughed and tugged on her ear. Just once, because old habits died hard and she wanted only good things for her and Cal.

  “One hundred percent. On the count of three?”

  She nodded. “One. Two. Thr—”

  Before she could finish, he scooped her up in his arms and jumped. She shrieked, her shoes flying free and heading out to sea independently of her. His arms tightened as they achieved a spectacular amount of air and then ripped through the surface in a cannonball of a landing.

  They broke apart underwater and she kicked for the surface. When she broke it, Cal was already there, waiting for her. The ferry moved slowly away, the cheer from their audience fading slowly over the water.

  “My car’s leaving without me,” she observed, treading water.

  “It’ll come back.”

  �
��And you owe me a pair of shoes.”

  His wet T-shirt clung to him like a second skin. She looked down and, wow, she wasn’t getting out of the water until dark. Her white dress was completely see-through, plastered to the lacy pink straps of her bra. She was also clearly cold. Big deal. She turned to him.

  “But you definitely got my attention.”

  “Good.” He smiled at her, pulling her into his arms.

  “Although there were probably drier ways to accomplish this,” she said. “Do you want to tell me what that was really about?

  “You were leaving,” he said.

  “For a business meeting at a bank, to see about possible financing. I was going to come back and kick your butt or buy it out.”

  His eyes closed briefly. “Then, I may have jumped the gun. Slightly.”

  “Oh.” She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him do the heavy lifting of keeping them afloat. “Are you taking it all back?”

  “Carla left me with the impression you were moving off the island, lock, stock and barrel.”

  That was definitely something Carla would do. “You want to be careful around her. She’s tricky.”

  “I realize that now.” He pulled her closer still. “And you can still do it—kick my butt, find alternate funding. Whatever it takes to make you happy. Although I’d rather interest you in doing something else. I love you,” he said and she wanted to hold the moment close, but he was still talking, because apparently when Cal opened up and found the words to describe what he was feeling, he didn’t stop. “It’s not just about keeping you safe or about winning and losing. I want it all—the love and the risks. The question is—will you take a chance on me? And possibly,” he groaned, “take pity on me and tell me how you’re feeling right now?”

  She reached up and brushed her mouth over his. “I can do that. I love you.”

  His slow smile grew. “Good, because I’m fairly certain you owe me another night since you lost the Fiesta contract, and I was planning on collecting.”

  The tender look was back in his eyes, so she momentarily put her new plan of drowning him and swimming back to shore on hold.

  “Or four or four hundred,” she agreed.

  “I’d be willing to compromise on forever.”

  “Deal,” she said and kissed him.

  * * * * *

  Look for Anne Marsh’s WICKED SECRETS,

  coming soon from Harlequin Blaze!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SOME LIKE IT HOTTER by Isabel Sharpe

  Ten years ago one devastating night changed everything for Austin, Hunter and Alex. Now they must each play their part in the revenge against the one man who ruined it all.

  Austin Treffen has the plan… Hunter has the money… Alex has the power!

  Read each of their stories in the captivating Fifth Avenue trilogy, only from Harlequin Presents:

  Avenge Me by Maisey Yates

  Scandalize Me by Caitlin Crews

  Expose Me by Kate Hewitt

  And don’t miss the Fifth Avenue prequel that started it all, Take Me, by Maisey Yates!

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  1

  “CHRIS! I’M HERE. I’m calling from your apartment!” Eva dumped her bags in Chris’s tiny foyer, which wasn’t really more than the beginning of a narrow hallway. She’d visited her sister only once in New York, shortly after Chris moved here. Generally they saw each other in Wisconsin when they got together with their parents for the holidays.

  “Let me guess. It’s much bigger than you remember.” Chris’s voice dripped sarcasm.

  “Uh...not really.” Eva peeked around a corner toward the kitchen, the size of her closet, and the living room, which struggled to contain a chair, love seat and coffee table. “But it’s got so much charm!”

  “Oh, is that charm? I thought charm was your house, with the plants and flowers growing everywhere and the ocean smell outside. Try and see how charming my place is in February when it’s dark and freezing for weeks on end. I can actually run from one end of your place to another. Run! It’s a real house!”

  “A tiny house. Which you have to take care of.” She hoisted her bags again, phone between her chin and ear, and marched down the hall, then pushed open the first door. “Your bedroom is adorable.”

  “You can barely turn around—you call that adorable? I can do jumping jacks in yours! I can see an expanse of floor! And then I can take a dozen steps and be outside! And to the beach in five minutes! No elevator, no sirens, no taxis, no—”

  “Concerts or museums, no theater, no—”

  “Traffic jams, no hurricanes, no impatient rude people—”

  “No excitement! No energy!”

  “No Ames!”

  “Huh?” Eva hauled her suitcase onto the twin bed. “Who’s Ames?”

  Chris made a noise of exasperation. “A regular at NYEspresso. Also an arrogant pain in the ass who doesn’t seem to hear me when I tell him I’m not interested. He’s this complete rich-boy spoiled brat who’s never heard ‘no’ in his life.”

  Eva chuckled. Men came after Chris pretty regularly. All she had to do was green-light the ones she wanted and ta-da, she had a boyfriend. Eva’s quirks meant it was usually the other way around for her—she’d see someone and go after him. So far neither approach had worked long-term for the sisters, but they were happy to keep trying. “I’ll tell him you’ve eloped. Maybe he’ll fling himself off a building.”

  “Please encourage him.”

  “You’ll have to deal with surfer dudes and lost tourists and retired hippies who order a cup of coffee and stay for hours thinking you have nothing better to do than chat. Which, sadly, you often don’t. Though Zac will be there most days and he’s awesome.”

  “So you’ve said. Though I still think your arrangement is weird. Who agrees to get married when they hit thirty only if nothing else works out?”

  “We did.” She didn’t expect Chris to understand. Eva had begun to realize that while love affairs were a fabulous, fireworks-filled pleasure, when it came to choosing a life partner and future father of her children, she wasn’t going to get much better than her best male friend, Zac, master’s candidate at Cal Poly and regular at Slow Pour. It was precisely because they didn’t burn so hot that she knew he’d be a good solid match, one that actually lasted.

  But they still had a year and a half before that commitment. And as much as she adored Zac and he adored her, neither of them had yet given up hope they could find another soul mate they could also be frantic to tangle up the sheets with.

  “At NYEspresso you’ll have to deal with people screaming at you because you aren’t moving fast enough or the line isn’t moving fast enough. People act as if you’re put on the planet only to serve them.”

  “I look forward to the challenge.”

  Chris giggled. “I can’t believe we’re doing this!”

  “What, turning our hometowns into horrific stereotypes?”

  “Well, yes, but I meant switching lives. Are you heading over t
o NYEspresso tonight?”

  “Uh-huh.” Eva couldn’t wait to be in the place, knowing it was hers, however temporarily. “I think I can just make it over there before closing.”

  Chris snorted. “Yeah, figure how much time you’ll need realistically, then add half an hour for delays and waiting and crowds and—”

  “At least I get to go somewhere.” At home her commute was down the hill and around a corner. Not a lot of sights to take in. “I want to meet your staff, make sure they’re ready to have me take over for a month.”

  “They’ll be thrilled. I’ve been such a bitch lately.”

  “You?” Eva scoffed. “Never!”

  “Uh-huh. You take care, twin.”

  “You, too.” Eva hung up the phone, bursting with excitement. Traffic and street noise reached her window. Civilization actually happened here—this was real life! She couldn’t wait to get started. But first, deep breaths, a little meditation to get the nerves under control, calm her down so she didn’t appear too frazzled when she met her crew at NYEspresso.

  She sat cross-legged on the scuffed hardwood floor and closed her eyes, loosened her consciousness from her surroundings, swaying slightly to keep herself off balance, clearing her mind, trying to connect to the wise voice deep inside her that never failed to—

  The apartment door burst open, making her jump. Must be Chris’s roommate, new since Eva had last visited. Natalie worked near NYEspresso and had mentioned to Chris one day that she needed a roommate. According to Chris, Natalie was either trying to get into bed with a guy or getting kicked out of bed by a guy in one of the most misguided searches for love Chris had ever seen, but she was good-hearted—once she got to know you.

  Eva was totally curious to meet her.

  “Yeah? Well, screw you, Edward.” Heels clunked furiously down the hallway. “Yeah? You really think that? Dream on, buddy, and guess what, you suck in bed.”

  Uh. That was not a person connected to her wise inner voice.