Clay shrugged. “I thought it’d do you some good. You been living like a monk since the separation.”
“Didn’t know you cared, Bellamy.”
That remark earned him a rude gesture. But the idea of veering from the straight and narrow appealed to Neil. And an affair with the hot cover model would be the sweetest cure for the contagion that seemed to have spread in his soul ever since he’d returned from a tour in Afghanistan to find his wife in bed with her lover.
Despite a lifetime spent trying to do the right thing, nearly killing himself to be the best, to make his father proud, all his efforts had come crashing down nine months ago.
Though now he could see that things had been crumbling for years.
Clay thumped the second shot glass upside down on the bar next to the first one. “Least now I can fly back to Little Creek knowing you’ll be just fine down here for the rest of your leave.”
Neil chuckled. He and Clay had been pals since BUD/S, standing next to each other in lineup, two last names starting with B. Surviving the training course in Coronado, freezing their petunias off Hell Week. Going through all that alongside another guy tended to cement a friendship.
Clay clapped his shoulder. “Man, an affair with the Piper. Just come up for air every once in a while, okay? You want to be able to walk after your leave is over.”
Neil’s beer slid down the wrong pipe and he choked and coughed while Clay slapped him hard on the back.
“Jeez, Bellamy. You work hard at being crude or does it just come natural? I’m down here for a little R and R, that’s all. I’m going to hire a boat and do some deep-sea fishing, maybe sail down to the Keys...”
Clay raised his brows. “Fine, but this weekend our objective was to find us some women and go wild. And since you’re already mission accomplished, I’m down one wingman tonight.”
“Tomorrow we’ll hit that honky-tonk you wanted to check out. Now get out of here.”
Clay stood and saluted. “Suh, yes, suh!” Then pivoted on his heel and headed for the exit. As Clay took off, in walked the long-legged model in a slinky short black dress that didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d actually showed.
But now that he knew who the woman was, he couldn’t see the dinner going anywhere. The illustrious Piper probably wouldn’t give him the time of day. He was no Brad Benton. Besides, celebrity models and navy SEALs lived worlds apart, right?
Still, she’d agreed to dinner. So who knew?
When Piper passed Clay, his friend turned around to walk backward, wiggling his brows behind her back.
Neil ignored him. His attention was riveted on Piper. She brushed her long hair behind one ear and gave him a hesitant smile. Neil swallowed.
Oh, he sure hoped she wanted to be bad tonight.
2
PIPER WAS DETERMINED to be good tonight.
But looking into the navy lieutenant’s flashing eyes, she had to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d changed into a dark suit with a crisp white dress shirt. But no tie. And he smelled nice. Clean, musky, subtle. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He pushed away from the bar at her approach, and there was a sense of carefully controlled power in his stance. She guessed the military training must be ingrained in him. He was older than she was. With the crinkles around his eyes, she’d say he was in his early to midthirties.
He nodded toward the dining room. “Would you like to eat here or...?”
“Are you a member?”
“Me? No, I live in Virginia.” He smiled. “But I know a guy who is.”
She paused. Surprisingly, Ragi had readily approved of Piper’s impromptu date, suggesting that she bring the lieutenant to the gala. It seemed he was a decorated SEAL whose father was a US senator. Being seen on his arm would be worth more than a dozen pictures with the Miami mayor. So her job tonight was to get her name linked with a military hero’s.
But to do that, she’d have to mix and mingle and she’d have to use this guy for a photo op. Suddenly Piper found herself longing—just once—to have a normal dinner with a normal guy away from all the craziness of the paparazzi.
Normal. She didn’t even know what that meant.
Panic flared momentarily as she realized she’d never been on a regular date. How messed up was that?
What would they talk about? What did one do on a normal date?
She glanced at the white linen that covered the tables, topped with gleaming silverware, flickering candles and fresh flowers. The bank of windows looked out over the sparkling ocean. Soft music played in the background. Now was as good a time as any to find out about a regular date. Ragi would be upset if she skipped the gala. But hadn’t she’d earned a night of harmless fun?
She met his gaze. “Here sounds nice.”
He offered his bent arm and she slipped her hand around his elbow as he led her to a table by the window. She could feel the hard muscle beneath her fingers, and she liked the way he held her chair as she sat and then scooted it in for her before taking his seat across from her. She wasn’t used to being treated so...respectfully.
A waiter handed them menus, and the lieutenant ordered a bottle of wine before she could tell him not to. One glass wouldn’t hurt, right? She lowered her menu to meet his gaze as the waiter left. She knew men liked to talk about themselves. No reason this one should be any different. “Do you do a lot of sailing, Lieutenant?”
“Neil.” He shrugged. “When I can. I like to sail down to the Keys.”
“Those are the islands south of here? Is that really where Jimmy Buffet lives?”
Smiling, he nodded. “Yep, and lots of other celebrities, too. But the best thing is the sunset. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen a sunset in the Keys.”
“I’d love to see that.”
“Maybe I can take you while we’re both in town.”
Ah, so he did want to get her into bed. Why was she surprised?
He cleared his throat and she realized she’d waited too long to respond. She smiled. “And did you sail your boat down here from Virginia for the regatta?”
“No, a yacht company sponsored me, so I sailed one of their racers.”
“Oh.” She nodded and studied her menu. Where was that waiter with the wine?
“My family does own a yacht, but it’s moored in DC,” he offered.
She glanced up. “And that’s where you live?”
“In DC? No, but I’m not far. I standby at Little Creek, Virginia.”
“Standby?” She knew nothing about the American military. Or the British one, either, for that matter.
“When we’re not deployed or attending a special training school we’re waiting around to be deployed. We can be playing pool at this bar called Barney’s one minute and the next thing you know we’re on a plane headed for an op.”
“That sounds a lot like my life in a way. I never know where in the world my next assignment might be.”
He chuckled and started to scan his menu.
“What’s so funny?”
“Sometimes I never know where in the world I’m going to be, either.”
English wasn’t her first language, but she caught the play on words and smiled. “I believe your assignments are undoubtedly more dangerous, Lieutenant.”
He looked up from his menu. “Neil.”
She got caught in the warm copper color of his eyes. How could his stare feel so intense and yet convey such warmth? It made her want to squirm and at the same time lean closer. But she did neither. “Neil,” she acknowledged with a small smile.
The waiter returned, poured their wine—which Neil accepted without tasting—and took their orders. Piper reached for her glass. Without the menu as a barrier, she felt exposed. Strange. She didn’t often feel awkward around men. But then, the
men with whom she usually kept company were acutely adept at playing the game. This man...wasn’t. And she realized she didn’t know what to do with that.
The silence had gone on too long. “What do you do—”
“My buddy says your—” They spoke at the same time.
He nodded at her. “You go.”
“What do you do in the navy?”
“Whatever they tell me to do.” His sheepish smile softened the sharp answer.
Piper blinked. “And how long have you been doing that?”
“Since I was twenty. Uh, fourteen years, now.” His eyes widened. “Wow, saying that out loud makes me sound really old.”
“And why did you join the navy?”
“Well, I sure didn’t want to be a jarhead.”
Piper frowned. “Pardon?”
He winced. “Sorry. It was a joke. Jarheads are marines. We have a bit of a rivalry with the marines. No, it was my uncle. After Korea, the military knew they needed a more unconventional type of soldier for counterinsurgency. My father’s older brother was one of the first SEALs. He died in Vietnam.”
She raised a skeptical brow. “And this was the reason you wanted to follow in his footsteps?”
Neil’s gaze drifted off. “I was alone a lot as a kid. One day I found a trunk in my grandparents’ attic with a bunch of old letters. On one of them was a picture of these guys in jungle camo, and a Purple Heart medal. There was also this gold pin of an eagle perched on an anchor, holding Neptune’s trident and a pistol in his claws. It’s the pin that navy SEALs get after they complete training.
“When I asked my grandfather about it he told me the things had belonged to my uncle Greg. Uncle Greg had written the letters to his parents from Vietnam. I practically memorized them. They taught me the only important things I needed to know in life.”
Piper was taken aback at his sincerity, and couldn’t have stopped herself from asking the next question if she’d tried. “What are the important things in life?”
His focus shot back to her and he tilted his head. “Honor,” he stated with conviction. “Duty.” He thrust his chin out. “And love.”
Piper blinked, feeling her eyes sting. If she’d ever believed in those things, she’d lost faith in them long ago. After all, she’d failed at all three. Avoiding his searching gaze, she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip. She cleared her throat. Somehow this didn’t feel like a normal date. “I guess knowing how to sail well comes in handy in the navy?”
He shrugged. “Knowing how to swim certainly helped. It was about the only thing that got me through BUD/S.”
“BUD/S?”
“Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL training.”
“Oh. So you blow things up underwater?”
“That’s part of the job, I guess. Sometimes.”
“Then, I can see why you’d have to be a good swimmer.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah.” He nodded. “You do.”
She grimaced. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve said something incredibly stupid?”
“No.” He looked alarmed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“It’s all right. You wouldn’t be the first.” She forced a small smile. “Or the last.”
Instead of agreeing with her, he narrowed his eyes and scrutinized her face. “No one should ever make you feel stupid.”
Piper’s mouth dropped open. She had no idea what to say to that. This man had only just met her, didn’t know her at all, yet he’d touched a raw nerve with such precision and then soothed it in the space of a few seconds.
He took a sip of his wine and the food arrived. Grabbing his knife and fork, he ignored the salad and dug into his steak with gusto. After he’d swallowed a bite, he looked up. “All I meant about the swimming was that unlike my buddy, I was usually last at everything at BUD/S, except for that and diving.” He forked another bite of steak and popped it into his mouth.
“I find that hard to believe.”
He stopped chewing and met her gaze. She’d been staring at his chest, wondering if it was hairy or smooth. Despite his average height and build, she sensed strength in his every move. Power lurking beneath the surface. Just thinking about the muscles that bunched under his suit coat made her want to slide it off and run her hands down his arms.
Her face heated. She concentrated on her salad, picking at the spinach.
“That really all you’re going to eat?”
“If I want to continue to work.”
Funny, she wasn’t the least bit interested in food right now. Usually, limiting her caloric intake was a struggle. When she’d first arrived in London, she’d wanted to stuff her face every chance she got. But Ms. H had controlled her diet with an iron hand from the beginning.
It had seemed a ridiculous paradox to her at first; living in such luxury and yet still going hungry. But at least she’d been allowed to send money back to Nandan.
“Doesn’t seem right.” He shook his head. “Making women think that putting on a few pounds is the end of the world. Most guys I know don’t give a rat’s...behind about that.”
She bristled. “It’s my job.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean—” He sighed and gave her that lopsided grin. “I seem to be having an off night. Usually I’m a lot more suave than this.”
When his white teeth flashed and his eyes twinkled like that it was impossible to remain immune to his charm. Besides, it was a reassuring concept. To think that she could quit modeling and eat whatever she wanted, as much as she wanted, and the world would still spin on its axis. Her shoulders sagged. “I shouldn’t be so sensitive. Tell me more about BUD/S.”
His attention seemed to turn inward and he remained silent.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“No, that’s not it. I’m just not sure any description could do it justice.”
“Please, I’m very curious.” Genuinely, she wasn’t bored at all.
After a brief hesitation, he set down his knife and fork. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, braced his elbows on the table and folded his arms one on top of the other. “The first eight weeks is PT. Physical training. Timed runs, obstacle course, timed swims—and we’re talking in the Pacific. You get used to being frozen, wet and miserable. And no sleep. The worst is Hell Week. I don’t know how many times I almost quit. Our class started with over two hundred guys, and at the end of the six months, only fourteen graduated.”
“Wow.”
“Bellamy was always first to finish everything. Push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups. I’d come straggling in last—or not even finish—and have to do it all over again. Except swimming. Like I said, being good in the water saved me.
“The next eight weeks we still ran the beach, the obstacle or O-course, but we were mainly in the water. Swimming, diving, SCUBA, underwater combat. Holding your breath till you think your lungs will explode.”
Piper couldn’t imagine. Why would anyone volunteer for such hardship?
“The last nine weeks we learned weapons, demolition, patrolling, rappelling and marksmanship.”
“Why put yourself through all that?”
His expression hardened. “My father asked me the same thing. He wanted me to go to law school like him.” He shook his head. “I think he had aspirations of me becoming president someday. But there was no way I was going into politics like my old man.”
He drew in a breath, sat back and, slowly, his eyes lost their glow of resentment. But his jaw was still set with grim determination. “I wanted that trident pin. Like my uncle. I wanted to make my life count for something.”
It occurred to Piper that she was holding her breath. His passion for what he did overwhelmed her. Made her feel horribly insignificant. Neil ensured the safety of millions. She
hadn’t even been able to save her brother.
He blinked and reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve never talked this much about myself in my life.”
His fingers heated her, and she curled her hand inward and pulled her fist down into her lap. “I asked you.”
“Still, not exactly an appetizing topic.” Belying his words, he grabbed up his fork and made short work of finishing his steak and potato. Piper forced a few bites of the salad.
“You don’t like the wine?” He finished what was left in his glass and gestured with the stem toward her barely touched one.
She blinked. She’d forgotten about it? “Oh, no, it’s very good.” She grabbed up the glass and swallowed a mouthful.
He stood. “Let’s get out of here.” Without waiting for her response, he motioned to the waiter for a check and signed it, then came around to pull her chair out for her.
Before she could think, he’d taken her hand, helped her into one of the cabs waiting outside, and instructed the driver to take them to The Heat Wave.
The nightclub? Deafening music, flowing alcohol, hordes of bodies all moving to the pounding rhythm in dark anonymity. A place like that was like a drug to her. A drug she’d denied herself for months. Oh, to slip onto the dance floor and lose herself in the intoxicating tempo. She could press against Neil’s hard body and feel his pulse match up with hers. Maybe the press would follow them, snap some pictures... Maybe that would make up for not being seen at the gala tonight. She could even go home with Neil. Spend the night in his arms. And, at least for now, ease the unspeakable loneliness.
But the counselor in rehab had warned her to stay away from old triggers. To try to rise above doing whatever felt good—but was bad—in the moment. And she needed that contract with Modelle so she could afford the private investigators.
She clutched Neil’s arm. “No!”
* * *
NEIL STILLED IN SURPRISE. She didn’t want to go to a nightclub and dance? He’d almost suggested a walk along the beach and then thought better of it. A beautifully exotic woman like Piper, in her slinky dress and heels, walking in the sand and surf? So he’d figured she’d want to dance. Be around a crowd closer that was familiar to her.
Fevered Nights Page 2
