by Anne Marsh
Allie patted the small bump in her middle. His sister hadn’t wasted any time in procreating. “I’m winning this race.”
“And I don’t recall entering.”
She shrugged. “You’ve never seen a race you didn’t want to win.”
True.
“She’s right.” His mother passed Allie the platter heaped with pancakes. It was possible the food outweighed her. It definitely outweighed the baby bean. “She’s going to give me my first grandchild. You need to catch up.”
“Nice try,” he said and picked up the plate of bacon. The plate was going right by his own place at the table.
“I do what I can.” His mother shrugged modestly. “But Allie’s still winning.”
Allie winked and headed for the dining room. “Which means you’re batting for the losing team,” she called over her shoulder.
“You give the rest of the family this much of a hard time?”
His mother’s grin said it all. He knew she loved him. Of course, she also wanted to love a few grandchildren, at least a half dozen, and he hoped to God that number covered the whole clan, because he didn’t see himself having six kids. He knew his limits. Plus, his baby momma would probably collapse from the shock of raising so many Brennans. She’d need to have nerves like Piper’s to take his family on.
“I’ve got high hopes for you,” she said, and he snorted.
“Hope all you want, but I’m not producing a ring. I’d need to be dating first.”
He didn’t know what this thing between him and Piper was but...it wasn’t dating.
His mother brushed past him as he held the door open with his shoulder. She paused and inhaled dramatically. “Apples. Very nice.”
Busted.
* * *
USUALLY, PIPER ENJOYED Saturday afternoons. She went for a swim. She cleaned the house and picked out recipes for all the meals she wouldn’t actually cook in the coming week. Today she was restless, though, so she extended her time in the water. Cal had gone off to his family brunch, and she’d hook up with him the day after tomorrow. For work, she reminded herself. They weren’t dating or hooking up in any kind of romantic fashion. Discovery Island was a small place in more ways than one. Once the gossip paired them together, things would get sticky. The FBI had nothing on her neighbors when it came to ferreting out information.
Discovery Island might be in the Pacific Ocean, but it was no Tahiti. The water never warmed up above sixty-eight degrees, and in another month, she’d be risking hypothermia if she so much as stuck a toe in without a wet suit on, but Piper had always loved swimming with the sea lions that gathered just off the island’s northern coast. There might also be a small chance of running into a shark hunting for dinner, but she’d take that. Endearingly awkward on dry land, the sea lions were all sleek power as they drilled through the water.
“Give me a heads-up if you spot a shark, okay?”
She’d already borrowed her quota of trouble for the day.
The sea lion next to her barked, and she decided to take the noise as an affirmative.
The sun was out, lighting up the water and the kelp forests beneath her. She turned back after a half mile, mentally waving goodbye to her sea lion pals. They’d head over to a patch of rocks another mile away and then pull themselves out to sun the afternoon away. Sea lions definitely had the right ideas.
She somersaulted lazily in the water, traveling underwater until her air ran out and she burst to the surface. Her pace wasn’t competitive, but it felt good. When she reached her beach and waded out, her muscles burned, tired in a good way.
Mission accomplished. She’d be able to button her jeans this week.
She padded back to the house, rinsing off her feet with the garden hose before going inside. Tracking sand everywhere when she was ten and didn’t have to clean it up herself was one thing. Now she was in charge of the Hoover, she was more careful.
Her place was warm and cozy in the early-afternoon sunlight. She could feel a book and a nap beckoning. And...she smelled bacon? She wouldn’t have overlooked bacon, and she knew to an item the sad state of her pantry.
She followed her nose into the kitchen.
Someone had left a covered plate of food on her counter, clearly the source of the bacon goodness filling her house. When she popped off the tinfoil, she discovered bacon, muffins, crispy slices of ham and a slice of chocolate cake as out of place as it was welcome. Oh, yeah.
She read the note and smiled.
Lock your door, Piper....
Her navy rescue swimmer definitely had a soft side, after all.
11
PIPER HATED NOT pulling her weight. So since the mountain—the mountain here being Mount Brennan—didn’t come to Piper on Monday, she went to the mountain. She barged through the door of Deep Dive, carrying a messenger bag stuffed to the gills with notes, dive-site descriptions and her laptop.
Tag was manning the counter. “He’s in the command center,” he said without looking up from his laptop.
Apparently word had gotten around about their partnership. Hopefully, that was all it was, because she’d decided the best way to handle her hookup with Cal was to pretend publicly that it hadn’t happened. Business first, bedroom second. If she was looking forward to her next night with Cal, well, no one else on the island needed to know that.
She went around the counter, opened the door to the backroom and—holy moly—stepped into an entirely different world. She’d assumed “command center” was a male euphemism for “place where we keep all our toys” or “fancy name to make ourselves feel important.” Nope. Cal really had built a command center. Floor-to-ceiling monitors displayed the latest weather information and all sorts of interesting dots and blips. A bank of computers and screens took up most of the floor space.
Cal and Daeg were bent over a screen at the far end.
“Are you planning to take over the world?” It actually appeared to be a viable option.
Daeg grinned. “Are you volunteering to assist?”
“It looks like you’ve got it covered.” They stocked some serious hardware.
Cal straightened up and came over to her. She wasn’t sure if she should stick out a hand, slap him on the back, like one of the guys, or French kiss him. He looked tired, though, so she decided to cut him some slack. Or going easy on him could have had something to do with how his big, suntanned body looked in a ragged T-shirt and another pair of white-at-the-seams blue jeans. He wore his usual steel-toed boots, as well, which was a look that definitely worked for her.
“What do you want, Piper?”
“Hello? Joint presentation and hands-on demo for Fiesta? I wanted to get started.” On Saturday.
“Right.” He stared at her, and she wondered if she had food on her face. Or magic marker. A second nose. Something, anything to explain the intensity of his gaze. “You want to work on our demo.”
Why else would she be here?
“We have a week,” she pointed out. “Seven days minus a few hours. We need to get going.”
She dumped her bag on one of Cal’s desks and fished out a list. “I’ve got a short list of dive sites to check out. My boat is gassed up and ready to go. So get your butt in gear, and we’ll be out of here. Alternatively, feel free to drop out of the competition at any time, because I can handle it.”
“I’ll bet you can,” he said drily.
She met his eyes and found humor and—wait for it—a side of irritation. Too bad. He hadn’t suggested a plan and she had. Since she appeared to be the only one with a viable one, they went with her idea.
“Maybe I’m busy right now.”
“I’ll survive,” Daeg tossed out. “If you and Piper have a prior date.”
They both turned and glared at him. Out of bed, this had to be the first time the two of them had ever been in sync on anything.
“The ideas are great,” he said. “But you don’t get to waltz in here and decide our plan of attack.”
“I
texted. You didn’t respond.”
“And you interpreted nonresponse as permission to do things your way?”
Well, yeah. The lines on either side of his nose got deeper, however, and she recognized that look as the one Cal got right before he told her precisely why he disliked her current course of action and everything that could go wrong.
And...bingo.
“Fiesta asked us to work together. That’s not code for ‘give me an ultimatum.’”
“You didn’t respond. I took charge.” She shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“I do,” he gritted out.
“Then, you should have answered my texts.” She grabbed her bag and turned toward the door. “Move it.”
She ignored the muttered curse behind her. He didn’t have to like it—or her—as long as he got his butt in gear. He must have gotten the memo, because he fell in step with her.
“You’re going to be a pain in my butt, aren’t you?” He opened the door for her and she breezed through. See? She could compromise.
“Probably,” she agreed. “Or, you can do things my way.”
“We did that Friday night.” He snagged his keys from the counter. “Now it’s my turn and I’m driving.”
* * *
CAL PILOTED THE Dive Boat I out of the marina. Eventually he and Piper had compromised. He drove today and they used his boat. The next time they went, they’d use hers. Piper actually hadn’t protested much, and Cal suspected the reason for that was the flawless weather. After they’d gotten going, she’d parked herself up front, soaking in the sunshine. She looked perfectly content, her sunglasses on and a slightly grubby ball cap pulled low over her forehead.
Just when he thought she might be taking a catnap, she looked over at him. “So. Dive Boat I?”
He concentrated on guiding the boat out of the marina. Discovery Island’s mayor—the only person who had run for the underpaid job last election—had tied up his hundred-foot motor yacht in such a way that the expensive boat stuck out, making access to open water challenging. Either bad parking skills or a desire to make sure everyone knew he’d bought a new boat, Cal had no idea which. “You don’t like the name?”
“It’s not a name. It’s a shortcut.”
She leaned back on her elbows, making herself at home. The narrow straps of her bikini top peeked out from the edges of her T-shirt. She was wearing yet another pair of cutoff shorts and flip-flops. She’d toed off her shoes as soon as she climbed on board and pulled her hair back in a ponytail, errant curls blowing in the breeze. The other night, her hair had been spread out on her pillow, little strands tickling his nose and his face. He didn’t want to be out here on the water with her. Nope. Where he really wanted to be was back in her bed. Or his. He’d slept with his share of beautiful women, but she was different.
She waved her list at him again. “We’ll start with Pup Alley,” she said, naming a popular dive site where sea lions and their pups were often spotted.
And not just because she was so stubborn.
“I’m driving the boat,” he pointed out mildly. “I pick where we go.”
“Right.” She pushed her glasses down and gave him a look. “I did Rose Wall earlier, so diving with the sea lions is a nice site to pair with that dive.”
The breeze picked up over the water just enough to plaster her T-shirt against her body. Today’s bikini was yellow with white daisies. And she was definitely cold.
No. Don’t go there. Friday night’s hot sex had been an aberration. Getting him out of her system. That’s what Piper had called it. And he was okay with that. She’d taken him to bed, had her way with him for one wicked night, and now it was over. It didn’t matter if parts of him were interested in a repeat.
“Do you plan on asking me for my list?” He wondered if she’d admit she’d planned on commandeering their joint project and choosing their sites for both of them.
“I can guess what’s on it. You’ve probably got three superdeep sites requiring four advance certifications and a secret life as a military ninja.” She pushed her glasses up and lay back. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong,” he said promptly. “I’ve got four sites on my list.”
“Do you really think the Fiesta execs are going to be up for advanced dives?”
“Trust me. Ninja certification is not required.”
“Did you ask any of them if they were certified? Or what their comfort levels were?”
“I didn’t hear you ask them those questions,” he pointed out. “And I reviewed their logbooks.”
“My dives are easy.”
Unlike the woman sitting in front of him. Piper was the exact opposite of easy. She was prickly, argumentative, and, yeah, he liked it. She kept him on his toes. She was also a whole lot of fun, starting with the way she was ignoring him. Friday night had been amazing, and he still had his night in charge to look forward to. Cal was fairly certain the entire island had spotted the chemistry between the two of them by now. All through brunch on Saturday, his mother had dropped overt hints to bring Piper by for a family dinner. “Soon,” she’d emphasized.
Since it was his boat and he had the wheel, overruling Piper wasn’t difficult. He let her talk and then he laid in a course for Devil’s Slide anyhow. She lounged in the front of the boat, chattering away about yesterday’s sites and the joys of swimming with sea lion pups (none of which Cal found particularly convincing). Listening to her talk wasn’t a hardship. Her face lit up and she waved her hands around, as if she was conducting an invisible symphony. The logical thing to do would have been to tell her where they were really going, but he didn’t want the fight.
By the time they were halfway to Piper’s first site, however, his nerves were shot. All he wanted was to turn the boat around and head back to the marina. He’d tried a quick phone call earlier in the day to see if the Fiesta team would let him switch himself out for Tag or Daeg, but that approach had been a no-go. Fiesta wanted to see him leading his program.
He wanted to see the same thing, probably more than anyone.
Piper looked back at him and grinned. Her sunglasses were covered with the spray the boat had kicked up and she looked as if there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
“We’ve got a perfect day,” she called over the noise of the motor, sounding like she meant it. Of course, she didn’t have any issues diving. In fact, if she knew what he knew, she might be smiling even wider because he was going to lose. And she was going to win.
Think of this as a dry run, he told himself. It doesn’t have to be perfect—it just has to happen. Suddenly too hot, he stripped off his T-shirt. Piper slid him a look from over her sunglasses that only heated him up further.
Which was good.
Remembering their night together definitely took his mind off the upcoming dive. And...there it was. Adrenaline punched through his body in a sickening rush. The chemical rush taunted him with visions of failure as his head spun a thousand different scenarios in which he wasn’t able to do this.
The U.S. Navy SEALs trained a man to react well under pressure. Pressure like jumping fins first out of a Blackhawk into stormy water or searching an enemy bay for underwater explosives. He’d done those things and more, so he could handle one practice dive. He’d go under, and there’d be nothing lurking below the surface, waiting to kill him. It would be just him and Piper.
Everything would be fine.
He inhaled. Exhaled. Repeated the process while he did his best not to drive the boat off course.
Piper accidentally rescued him. When the cliffs rose up in front of them and he throttled back to guide the dive boat around the breakwater and into the sheltered cove, she knew exactly where they were. Or weren’t.
She sat up. “This is not Pup Alley.”
It also wasn’t the marina, where he desperately wanted to be. “My turn,” he reminded her when she eyed the site. He hoped.
They both knew she hadn’t put this on her list. Th
e site was known both for its difficult entry and thrilling exit. Divers entered by jumping off the cliff. After that, things got deep, fast. There were plenty of barracuda plus the occasional shark. After the dive, participants timed the incoming waves and rode one over the rocky ledge to shoot into the sheltered cove. Chickening out of that ride meant a mile-long swim around the breakwater. Cal had dived the site every chance he’d gotten on previous visits to the island.
She muttered something he didn’t catch, but he figured she’d bring up whatever it was again later. Probably more than once. He bit back a smile.
Twenty minutes later, he wasn’t smiling, and the marina was definitely looking better and better. They’d anchored the boat a few feet offshore, unloaded the gear and walked through the dive plan. The slog up the path to the top of the cliff had taken far less time than Cal remembered, even with the necessity of loading the dive tanks into the hand-cranked elevator running up the side of the cliff.
“Are you sure?” she asked, walking over to the edge and peering down. She didn’t look bothered by the height or the difficulty of the dive he’d proposed. On the other hand, Piper could probably go face-to-face with a shark and keep her cool.
The screaming of the gulls overhead had him on edge, almost as much as the relentless slap of the waves against the rocks. No, he wasn’t sure. He also knew his nerves were a mental game his head was playing with his body. And, when he looked over the edge at the churning water, he was pretty certain his head was winning.
Piper backed away from the edge. Thank God. “After you,” she said.
He couldn’t.
His head kept running scenarios where she went under and didn’t come up, his heart pounding out an alarm with each unwelcome image. If he couldn’t be there for her, if he couldn’t guarantee he’d see to her safety then...he couldn’t dive.
