by Anne Marsh
A beer and candy sounded perfect, followed by a half-dozen, gut-churning rides on the swings. She wanted to fly through the air, leaving the day’s problems behind her. Ten minutes later, she traded in five bucks she should have been saving and acquired a fistful of paper tickets and a bonus bag of taffy. She’d passed on the beer, after all—she had the Harley, and some chances she wouldn’t take.
The swings slowed, riders stumbling away, laughing. Kids shrieked while their parents snapped photos, creating a scene that was loudly happy and all chaos. Perfect.
“Hey, Lenny.” She greeted the ticket taker, offering him the bag of taffy. Lenny had worked on the pier for as long as she could remember. Like the ride itself, he looked a little older each year.
“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Lenny poked through the bag, looking for the red-and-white taffy, like he always did. “Got your favorite swing all ready for you.”
“Perfect.” She laughed. Her feet flew to the bright red double swing she always rode. Deliciously garish, with over-the-top gold trim covering every edge, and faux rubies hot-glued to the sides, her swing winked at her just as enticingly now as it had twenty years ago. It also had the most lift of all the swings on the ride, or so she and her brothers had concluded after a summer of experimenting. She’d ridden it ever since.
She settled in, waiting for the ride to fill up. The sky was dark now, with plenty of stars peeking through the clouds. She’d always meant to buy one of those charts and learn their names. She tracked one glowing blob and debated if the slowly moving light was a comet or a shooting star. Her knowledge of astronomy was sadly lacking. She’d seen a shooting star once, a bright flare and a quick descent. The flash of red was her first clue that celestial milestones weren’t in her future tonight. Her “star” was a plane. Nope. She’d better not count on a career as an astronomer.
And...darn it. Despite her careful planning to not think about Cal or the bet she had impulsively proposed to him, Mr. Tall, Dark and Glum himself stood there on the pier, dogging her from the shadows. The Pleasure Pier wasn’t his kind of scene. She had a hard time imagining him fisting a bag of taffy and riding the swings until he was deliciously seasick. Cal was too responsible, too...something else. On the other hand, if she accidentally fell over the pier because she was too dizzy, he’d be the first one in to save her.
He watched from a distance, giving the impression there was an invisible space bubble or do-not-cross police tape surrounding him. The pier’s usual evening crowd flowed around him obediently. He’d changed out of his suit, looking more familiar in his usual faded blue jeans, T-shirt and work boots. His long, lean legs were stretched out slightly in front of him as he leaned against the pier’s railing, the ocean at his back. And, God, his eyes...she liked his watchful, heated gaze far too much for comfort. She had no idea why he was here, but as long as he stared, she was staring back.
So screw it.
Flip him the bird or crook her finger? Oh, the choices... Grinning, she flipped him the bird. He tipped his head in silent acknowledgment and then slipped away into the shadows.
She pushed down the strange pang of disappointment. She might not like Cal, but baiting him was almost as much fun as eating taffy and riding the swings. He had better things to do than stand there and watch her. Of course.
She’d been kissing distance from him that night at Big Petey’s, and the closeness had made an impression. That was all these residual feelings were. Because kissing Cal—or doing anything else with the man—would be a recipe for disaster. His hot body came with an arrogant, take-charge attitude she didn’t need in her life. She’d win their bet and thumb her nose at him. So what if she’d imagined the man doing a Chippendales routine at her own personal direction? Just because he’d have to take orders from her didn’t mean she had to give him any orders. She certainly hadn’t planned on actually getting into bed with him.
Lenny bellowed for last-takers, and she tightened her fingers on the chains connecting her swing to the ride. The anticipation of waiting to start was almost as good as the ride itself. As the music swirled and blared, the swing dipped and swayed as someone else sat down beside her. Nope. No way. She always rode alone.
She turned her head—although how she was going to protest sharing a public ride with single seats for solo riders, she didn’t know—and Cal settled onto the seat beside her. She couldn’t remember the last time Cal had ridden the swings. Or the first time, for that matter.
“I could be saving that seat,” she pointed out through a mouthful of candy.
He raised a brow. She hated when he did that. The gesture always, always preceded his busting her. Sure enough...
“For whom?”
He reached out a thumb and rubbed at the sticky corner of her mouth. Oops. She was wearing her guilty pleasure on her face. At least he hadn’t licked his finger first. Ignoring the rasp of his callused skin against hers, she pulled away from his touch. He was also far too literal. “I didn’t say I was.”
“Just that you could be,” he agreed. “Which you’re not. So fair game.”
“Since when do you ride the swings?”
“Maybe I’m trying something different.” His eyes met hers in silent challenge, and she wondered if her comment about his predictability had stung the other night.
Lenny was making final rounds, collecting tickets and checking the safety harnesses. If tonight were her lucky night, Cal wouldn’t have one. Of course, since he was never impulsive, he undoubtedly did.
Lenny paused.
Cal handed over his ticket.
So not her night.
A minute later the ride started, the familiar music drowning out the chatter of the pier’s crowds. The lights flashed a riff of rainbow shades, and Discovery Island melted into a colorful blur as they rose up off the ground. She loved this. The sensation was almost as good as platform diving had been. She could—again, almost—pretend she was flying.
Cal ruined it by opening his mouth.
“Good job today,” he said. Instead of looking out at the island, he was staring at her again. Cal was always annoyingly fair.
“You, too,” she admitted grudgingly. Because it was true, darn it. He had done a good job and it worried her. She really, really needed the contract, and Cal might be the person who stopped her from getting it.
The ride whirled up, gravity and centrifugal force working their magic as the swings swung out in a wide arc. She’d sat on the inside because she really hadn’t expected company, and he outweighed her. He braced himself as the ride turned, but his thigh pressed against hers. The world spun out of focus, and she couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. Cal’s weight changed the swing’s pitch but not in a bad way. On the next turn, which came faster and higher, he slid into her—the man had no choice—and she leaned forward.
“There’s Deep Dive.” She leaned forward and pointed to his shop.
* * *
PIPER LIVED ON the edge.
Literally.
Cal wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and gently tugged until she wasn’t quite so close to the edge of the seat. The ride had a safety harness, a set of thin chains, which struck Cal as more ornamental than functional. The ride’s designers had clearly bet on gravity keeping riders in their places. Equally obvious, they’d never planned on Piper. She’d once debated the feasibility of jumping from the ride, when it swung out over the ocean at its highest point, and hitting the water.
He’d never know for certain whether she’d have gone through with the plan or not, but he’d watched her like a hawk for the rest of the summer until she’d gone back to the mainland with her family. She’d accused him of being an old grandfather. He’d countered that she’d had a death wish.
Her legs extended in front of her as their swing whirled into the next turn, and she threw her arms over her head, shrieking happily. Her right knee didn’t quite straighten all the way, the ridge of scar tissue there a visible reminder that some things in life h
adn’t worked out for Piper. On the other hand, while the accident had put an end to her diving career, she didn’t seem to be in mourning.
Instead, she’d moved on.
Or moved back. Cal wasn’t sure which. All he knew was that he was off balance in more ways than one, which was pretty much what always happened when he was around Piper.
They needed to let go of this ridiculous bet. It was a stupid idea and unprofessional. He had no idea why he’d agreed to it in the first place, except that when he was around Piper, things seemed to happen. That was part of the problem.
At least he had a captive audience. She couldn’t run away from him now. “About our bet—”
“You can’t renege,” she said. “Look, you can see my boat.”
“Piper—”
“That’s my name.” She slid a sideways glance at him he couldn’t read. Too bad Piper didn’t come with an instruction manual. Or an off switch.
“We can’t do the bet,” he said firmly. He knew what happened when he gave Piper so much as an inch.
“You agreed,” she countered, every bit as stubborn as he remembered. The years hadn’t softened her up any. Or taught her to be reasonable.
He braced as the ride spun higher and the swings arced out into the air. Squashing Piper hadn’t been part of his plan. “Cut me some slack.”
“Nope,” she said. “No way. You were my childhood nemesis. You never went easy on me once.”
Her body curved into the turn, and she threw her arms up again with another whoop, taking at least a year off his life as her butt lifted off the seat. He anchored her with an arm around her waist, feeling the warmth of her beneath the thin cotton top. She looked sweet and sexy, both of which were misleading. He had no idea what game Piper was playing with him, but she’d never shown the slightest awareness of him as a man. Or sweetness. Stubborn, fierce, competitive—Piper was all of those. Sweet, however, was not part of her vocabulary.
He didn’t even like sweet.
He tucked her bag of candy into his pocket before it flew away. See? Nothing but trouble.
“We’ll renegotiate,” he stated firmly.
“Cheater,” she said, a small smile curling her lips, and the delight in her voice matched the grin on her face. “You’re a cheater, Cal Brennan.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. Up, down, sideways. He never knew where he stood with Piper, other than on her shit list. He seemed to have a permanent place there. But that was Piper. She was confusing, annoying and definitely...sexy? It had to be a residual from seeing her bare breasts the other day.
Her spectacular, beautiful, completely naked breasts.
He could feel an answering grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Piper,” he crooned. “You’re not making any sense.”
And...his words were the match to her tinder.
“Shut up,” she snapped. “And hold on.”
She muttered something else he couldn’t quite catch—but she’d always had a potty mouth, so he could make an educated guess—and then hooked a finger in the front of his T-shirt, dragging him toward her. He could have stopped her. He was bigger, and he outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. And yet he leaned obediently toward her. Another first for him.
The ride lurched into its final, lightning-quick round, the music building to a deafening roar. His stomach lurched right along, and Piper laughed, her face glowing. She’d always loved riding this monstrosity. He was close enough now to see the paler gold ring in her brown gaze and the freckle by the corner of one eye.
Her hands bunched in his shirt, knuckles brushing his skin, the metal of the dog tags he wore to remember. He had no idea what she was up to. Piper was one surprise after another. She’d never been prone to violence, though, so he figured he’d stay safely in the swing.
She slid over. Up. Working the swing and gravity and God knew what else until her butt was planted firmly in his lap. Surprise.
“Piper—” Her name came out sterner than he’d intended. A warning, because not everything had to be a game between them.
“Shh,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling. “I’m working on a safety violation here.”
She pressed her mouth against his, and his arms snapped around her, anchoring her. Because they were turning, whirling, and he didn’t want her flying out of the swing. Nope. He didn’t want her hurt, even if he wasn’t sure what else he did want.
Her mouth was a wicked surprise, her lips soft and giving as they brushed his. Slightly sticky, too, from the taffy, but he could work with that. He’d never thought of Piper as sweet before tonight—in fact, he tried hard to not think about her because he’d suspected danger years ago—but the sugar glossing her lips tempted him to have just a taste of her.
“Wow, Cal.” She didn’t sound pissed off, which was a pleasant change from her usual mood.
Was that a “yes, do it again”? With his tongue, he traced the line where her lips met, his hands curving into the small of her back, his fingers skimming bare skin where her shirt had ridden up. Definitely a “yes, do it again” from him.
She kissed him and the soft contact was all it took to set his head spinning more wildly than the swings. Just like that, he forgot they didn’t like each other and that they were, in fact, competing for the same job. Her lips brushed his, teasing and candy sweet, and his pulse hammered out of control.
Piper was kissing him.
It should have seemed strange or awkward, but somehow, all her touch felt like to him was right. He’d known her for years and never imagined doing this. She pressed into him, centrifugal force pinning her against his chest as the ride swung them briefly out over the ocean, but his arm around her waist kept her there when the ride evened out.
Piper kissed with her eyes open. The look on her face was intent, fierce and more than a little puzzled. That made two of them. Her ponytail flew out behind her as the swings turned, curly strands escaping every which way. The pink flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with makeup. With Piper, what you saw was what you got.
He only wished he knew why she wanted to kiss him.
Curiosity got the better of him, however, so he gently ran his fingers down her eyes, coaxing her to shut them. He couldn’t turn his head off with her staring at him. Couldn’t lose himself in her. She drove him crazy, but right now kissing her was absolutely what he wanted to be doing, so he angled his mouth over hers, taking control of it.
She whispered his name as he kissed her slowly, deeply, slipping inside her mouth and swallowing the small hums of sound she made. She curled tighter against him and he held on, as if letting go suddenly wasn’t an option and not just because she might fly off the swing. She tasted like saltwater taffy and sunlight, all the good things in life. She didn’t do this any more quietly than she did anything, however. She made noise. Lots and lots of noise. Hums and groans, gasps and a sexy whimper that made him wish they were anywhere but in public.
Threading a hand through her hair, he cupped her head. She didn’t pull away, just moaned, and the raw sound jolted through him, so he kissed her some more.
The ride slowed.
He lifted his head. She pulled back, sliding out of his lap. The swing coasted lower and lower, momentum lost, the Pleasure Pier coming into focus. He might as well have posted a picture on Facebook, because the entire resident population of Discovery Island would know about the kiss before tomorrow morning. Way to go, sailor.
His feet bumped the ground, and Lenny immediately headed their way, a big grin splitting his face.
“I should charge you double,” the old man snorted.
Piper laughed, snagging her bag of taffy from Cal’s pocket. “Like you haven’t seen riders kiss before.”
She didn’t deny what had happened, didn’t seem bothered at all. No, he was the only one who felt off balance. On the other hand—he grinned as Lenny unhooked their swing to let them out—winning, and losing, had never looked so good. He wanted the contract and the woman—winner tak
e all.
“I’m looking forward to winning our bet,” she said throatily. Then she hopped down with a jaunty, “See you,” and sashayed down the pier.
Right. The bet he’d been so determined to call off...and that he now had every intention of winning, because holding Piper in his arms for a night suddenly sounded a whole letter better—not to mention hotter—than any contract.
6
APPARENTLY, SHE DIDN’T have to like someone in order to kiss him. Piper’s brain had insisted on replaying last night’s embrace over and over, much to the delight of other body parts. She’d had no idea Cal kissed so well. Sure, the outward package was hot as hell, but she’d assumed his arrogant attitude would translate into his kisses, as well. Big mistake. He’d been confident and knowing, but there had also been a careful tenderness in the way he cupped her head and worked his mouth over hers and... She had to stop thinking about it. It had been one kiss. She’d initiated. He’d closed.
And the encounter had kept her up all night.
Big mistake.
Cal drove her crazy. He was cocky, too sure of himself and bossy. From the moment they’d met as kids, he’d made it his life’s mission to oppose her any and every way he could. Now he had the Fiesta contract in his sights, and if she was very honest with herself, he had as good a chance of winning as she did. She didn’t like to lose. Who did? So, no, it wasn’t surprising she didn’t like Cal Brennan.
Cal didn’t wear his thoughts and his emotions on his face, but he’d made those sexy, growly noises, so that had to be a positive sign, right? He kissed with his eyes closed, and he had impossibly long eyelashes. When she’d snuck a peek, he’d seemed both hungry and determined. And the touch of his callused fingers... Well, letting go of Cal had been surprisingly difficult.
She eyed the hotel. The cruise ship execs had unexpectedly scheduled a meeting for this afternoon, claiming they had a decision to share, and her new policy was no more kisses until she won. She needed to focus on getting the contract—not on his broad shoulders or sexy presence. Cal was a take-charge kind of man and alpha to the core, so waiting guaranteed she didn’t lose control of the situation. Win, and she’d have Cal to herself on her own terms for one hot night. Seeing him give up his tightly honed control was simply a bonus. Cal wasn’t the kind of man who took orders in bed—but for one night, he’d take them from her. Her big, bad rescue swimmer wouldn’t like it at all, but too darned bad. He’d be all hers.
