Wicked Nights. Anne Marsh

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СКАЧАТЬ His mother had pointedly mentioned Piper’s endeavor, apparently under the mistaken belief Cal might want to try the same himself.

      He picked out a cue stick from the rack while he waited for her answer.

      Her yes, when it came, was grudging. “I’ll put a quarter in the swear jar later.”

      He didn’t know where Piper had learned to curse, but she could definitely outswear many of the SEALs he’d served with. Plus, not only was she creative, but she was loud. Her jar probably held enough quarters to fund an entire new wing for the library she’d apparently announced was the jar’s beneficiary. Over the course of the next ten minutes, he proceeded to sink his seven balls, one after the other, and Piper’s obligations to the swear jar grew more substantial.

      Tag whistled. “I shouldn’t have bet against you.”

      She stepped up behind him as he eyed his final shot. It was game over as soon as he sank the eight ball. “I’d like to propose a side bet unrelated to this game,” she said.

      This game. Not a game.

      His critical-thinking skills suddenly became nonexistent, which was probably part of Piper’s master plan. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach his ear. God knew what it looked like to the other guys in the bar. Since her front was pressed against his butt, he wasn’t complaining.

      “What are we negotiating?” His voice sounded gruff, but some things were definitely beyond his control.

      “The Fiesta contract.” She didn’t retreat. Nope. If anything, she pressed in tighter.

      “I’m not stepping away,” he warned. If he wanted to bring more veterans out here to Discovery Island to work, he had to have the additional business. No pool game got in the way of that.

      “I wouldn’t ask you to bow out...more than once.” He felt rather than saw her smile against his throat. Piper had always been honest. It was one of the things he liked about her. Her next words were a whisper meant for him alone. “Loser takes orders from the winner for one night—in bed.”

      Whoa. He hadn’t seen this bet coming.

      “You’re crazy.” Of course, he’d known that for years. Piper had never met a chance she didn’t want to take. Twice.

      “If you’re so sure you’re going to win, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

      He looked down at her arms, caging him in place, and wondered if she’d thought her bet all the way through. “There are other ways to take a man to bed, Piper, if you’re desperate.”

      The bar’s noise gave them just enough privacy that the others couldn’t hear their low-voiced exchange, but this still wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in public.

      She gave a little laugh. “I’m not desperate, Cal.”

      He eyed his cue stick and wondered what his next step should be. “Then, maybe you could explain it to me.”

      “We’ve always had a certain...chemistry. Aren’t you curious?”

      Oh, yeah, his inner bad boy growled.

      “I’m going to take my shot,” he warned, all thoughts of deliberately throwing their match vanishing. “I’m winning. You don’t want to give me that kind of opening.”

      “Go right ahead,” she said, and he had no idea what she was inviting him to do. And then...she blew on his ear. Right as he shot.

      He scratched, the eight ball rolling into the pocket. Well...hell.

      She stepped away. “Too bad, Cal. You lose.”

      Scratching the eight ball was an automatic loss. Piper was clever. And at least now he wouldn’t worry about her grocery money for the week.

      “You going to pay up?” She parked her butt on the edge of the table and smiled at him. “Because I think we’re done here.”

      He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed over a hundred. Had she even been serious about their new bet?

      “You shouldn’t walk around with this much cash in your wallet. Someone might take advantage of you.”

      She hopped down and started for the door, and the sassy twitch to her hips was the last straw. He opened his mouth.

      “Drinks are on me tonight,” she called back, pouring oil on his fire.

      “Piper.” Her name shot out before he could stop himself.

      “Yeah?”

      “I accept,” he growled.

       3

      PIPER BREEZED INTO the conference room with precisely one minute to spare. Cal wondered briefly if she’d sat outside, timing her arrival for maximum impact. Probably. Piper had always loved pushing boundaries, pushing buttons.

      Particularly his buttons.

      He, on the other hand, had shown up early for the meeting with the Fiesta Cruise Lines team, tested his equipment and made small talk with the visiting executives, getting a feel for the terrain. His audience today consisted of two males, one female, all somewhere between forty and fifty-five. Sal Britten, Ben Lloyd and Margie Kemp were recreational divers who had logged some fairly adventurous dives. He didn’t anticipate any difficulty selling them on his planned program.

      Piper dropped a mammoth white tote bag onto the chair beside him. “Did you miss me? Getting anxious?”

      He shot her a look.

      She grinned back. “You were. That’s positively sweet. I’d almost think you were looking forward to losing. To me. Maybe you’ve been thinking about it since our game earlier this week?”

      Her eyes twinkled as she needled him. She wore a white dress that stopped several inches above her bare knees. The perfectly modest V-neck showed no cleavage but drew his eye anyhow, as did the narrow brown leather belt wrapped around her waist beneath the fitted blue-and-white-striped blazer. She looked fresh and energetic. The cruise ship woman eyed her outfit and he could practically feel the two guys melting. Piper had that winning effect on people.

      “I’m not falling for your game,” he warned softly.

      “And I’m not playing.”

      She turned away to introduce herself to the Fiesta executives, rings flashing on her fingers as she worked the room. He eyed her ring finger and discovered it was bare. Of course, he couldn’t imagine who would take her on for keeps, but there were plenty of crazy men out there. Or men who’d abandon caution when they got a good look at those high-heeled shoes of hers, which made him think of bondage clubs. Not, of course, that he’d ever been to one, but he had internet, and the tan straps crisscrossing her feet were suggestive.

      She finished her meet and greet and turned back to him. Sal Britten paused in the middle of a long-winded story about his most recent shark-cage СКАЧАТЬ