Daddy…
“You’ve tried drinking lots of water?” he asked. “And running the taps? The old sound-of-water trick?”
Piper pulled back and gave him one of her five patented looks. The one that said, “Seriously? Do I look that dumb?”
A little boy or girl with their mother’s hazel eyes and reddish-brown hair…
“For over five minutes,” she said. “Nothing.”
He shrugged. “Well, you know what usually works…” Then he cracked a small smile—because pregnant or otherwise, being this close to his wife was having an effect on a certain part of his anatomy. “I could help.”
The corner of her mouth curled up. “You’re that good, huh?”
West gripped two handfuls of Piper’s gorgeous ass and lifted her onto the bathroom sink, settling himself between her thighs.
“Yeah,” he said, sliding his hands up to the clip of her bra. “I’m that good.”
***
As a former diver with the New Zealand National Police Dive Squad, Piper’s training taught her to remain calm under severe stress. Underwater was a really bad place to panic. So she’d learned control, discipline, patience.
But somehow standing with her husband’s arms wrapped around her, waiting for colored stripes to show up on a plastic strip was harder than the mandatory, three-minute safety stop on a thirty meter dive.
“Anything?” His lips brushed her neck, tugging the collar of her robe aside to feather kisses on her shoulder.
She slitted her eyes, giving the stick the old I’m-a-cop-and-you’ll-do-as-I-say glare. “No.”
“We could’ve waited naked,” he grumbled against her skin. “At least we’d have something to look at other than the damn stick.”
Her gaze flicked to West’s broad shoulders covered in the thick towelling robe she’d bought him for Christmas. “Clothes on, Westlake. This is a serious business that can’t be conducted while you’re ogling my tits.”
“They’re very nice tits, darling.” Blue eyes nailed her in the mirror. “But being naked is not why you’re tense enough to shatter.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, trying to see the man behind the husband.
A man who’d been her childhood friend. The kid who’d climbed trees with her, let her tag along on adventures with him and Ben. He’d been her first love, the young man who, instead of taking her virginity, had exchanged it for nights of warm exploration, passion, and laughter. He’d also been the only man to break her heart into tiny pieces—pieces she’d never been able to glue back together again. Until the day she’d come back to Stewart Island after a nine-year absence to help her brother.
While the husband reflected in the mirror loved her more than anything else in his world, fear clawed at her that the man didn’t want two lines to show up on the strip as much as she did.
She licked dry lips, glanced down at the strip again.
Goddammit! Still blank.
“We never planned to have a baby so soon,” she said.
His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. “We never planned to fall in love, either, and look how well that turned out.”
“We are the poster couple for marital bliss.”
“We’re sickenly good at being newlyweds.” He nuzzled her ear. “I caught your sister making finger-down-throat gestures at us the other day. Everyone’s jealous.”
“Yeah.” Her throat gummed shut.
“And regardless of the number of lines that show up on that stick—which I’m starting to think is bloody defective—we’ll continue to be blissfully married.”
“I think I want this baby,” she whispered.
West grinned at her in the mirror. “I know I do. In fact, if it’s a girl we can call her—”
“Something’s happening.” Piper lurched forward and snatched up the stick. “Ohmygod.”
West tugged her wrist under his nose and squinted at the pregnancy strip. “What the hell does two lines mean again?”
An ear-splitting beep-beep-beep from the hallway shattered the silence.
“It means…” She blinked up at him, until the astringent smell of smoke filtered through to the bathroom. Joy bubbled over her vocal chords, making her voice come out as a high-pitched squeak. “It means I have a bun in the oven!”
West slid to his knees and pressed his cheek to her belly. “You hear that, baby? That’s mummy and daddy’s special song.”
Laughing, Piper slid her fingers into his hair, her insides twisting in knots of excitement and anticipation, the fear soothed away by the soft strokes of West’s hand on her hip.
“Best. Valentine’s Day. Ever.” He stood, cupping her jaw and touching his nose to hers. “I love you.”
“Even though I’ve burned the bread rolls and probably ruined dinner?”
“Even then.”
And he kissed her, while the smoke detector continued to screech.
###
Read Piper & West’s full story…
In Too Deep (Due South Book 1)
She vowed never to return.
To save her brother from financial ruin, Piper Harland must do the one thing she swore she'd never do—return to the tiny island hometown where Ryan "West" Westlake crushed her heart. Piper is tough, resilient and a little wild—much like the remote and beautiful Stewart Island where she grew up. As a cop who's part of the elite New Zealand Police National Dive Squad, bringing the dead back to their families still doesn't stop the guilt she feels over her father's drowning death. Now nine years later she's obligated to return to a hostile community as the outsider, and forced to work with the man who was once her best friend and first lover.
She's a risk he can't take.
West is an Island man, through and through. As owner of the local pub, he lives and breathes the local community, and sure as hell can't imagine living anywhere else. But most of all he refuses to ever fall for a woman like his flighty mother. He lost Piper once to give her the chance to fulfil her dreams of becoming a cop. But now she's back for an unexpected six week visit to help her brother—his best mate. Maybe West wants her a little bit, maybe he can't resist the temptation to tease and touch her, but can he fall in love with such a flight risk?
Saying goodbye for the second time might just destroy them both.
**Winner of Best First Book in the Romance Writers of New Zealand 2014 Koru Award for Excellence.**
Click here to download In Too Deep for FREE!
Carly & Kip
Carly tightened the laces on her brand new hiking boots and cut Kip, who stood beside her, a wry glance. Dressed in shorts, a blue polypropylene hiking top that made his eyes gleam even brighter, and battered boots obviously well worn, he looked the part. While she—in brand new hiking shorts, a quick-drying shirt designed to reduce chafing, and a waterproof jacket—looked like a stiffly posed model on the pages of a sports shop catalogue.
Or the chick featured on a TV missing hiker report, the weeping parents holding up a photo of a smiling female in a hiking gear so new it practically gleamed. Missing, because she ended up wandering off into the bush.
Carly tugged on a few of Kip’s leg hairs before straightening and hauling on her pack.
“Reporting for the Valentine’s Day mission, sir!”
Kip rolled his eyes. “You gonna do this the whole hike?”
Carly showed some teeth. “Yep.”
Kip’s version of a Valentine’s Day mission was a little different than hers was.
Yeah, she admitted to having visions of chocolate and champagne on a beach blanket while watching the waves roll in, followed by a candlelit dinner—actually, scrap that. She would’ve settled for a pie from Russell’s, a couple beers, and retiring to Kip’s bed for an early night.
But Kip had surprised her by dragging them away from their shift at Due South and announcing he was taking her on an overnight hike on the Rakiura track. Hurrah.
Hey—she was trying to be a good sport. A gust of wind whistled ove
r the trees and blew her ponytail around her face. She spat out strands of hair and strode toward the chain link sculpture spanning the track leading into Rakiura National Park. Grey clouds scudded above them, and the white caps churning out in Lee Bay indicated less than ideal hiking weather.
A hand touched her arm, and Kip’s warm blue gaze melted some of her nerves. He threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. “They’ll be fine, baby. Both Bill and Del. Okay?”
Carly nodded, her ribs contracting around her lungs. Fighting the tension that had gathered in her chest like a lead lining, she sucked in a deep breath then exhaled. She hadn’t said anything today about her worries for her stepbrother Del and his dad. They’d both come through the kidney transplant operation without complication. Del, West, and her brothers’ mom, Claire, were her only family, but that wasn’t an excuse for acting like a prima donna when Kip had obviously made a big effort to distract her.
“We’ll be back in plenty of time tomorrow for the afternoon ferry,” he added as they continued along the path. “You’ve been here since October and still haven’t ventured more than a twenty-minute walk into the national park.”
Carly shoulder-checked him. “Gimme a break—I’ve been working my ass off at the bar, and since Christmas, I’ve had this demanding male insisting I spend almost every spare moment in his bed.”
“Sounds as if the guy’s stifling you. I mean”—Kip flung out his arms toward the miles of native forest to their left and the glistening ocean to their right— “what kind of man would keep you from having an adventure that’s right on your doorstep?”
“An adventure, huh?”
“Every day with me is an adventure, sweetheart.”
His sexy smile more than made up for the wind mussing her hair and the absence of a comfortable bed to look forward to. Carly adopted her best sex-kitten smolder, then stuck out her tongue and wriggled it at him.
Maybe a little romantic adventure in a pup tent with Kip Sullivan was the perfect Valentine’s Day activity, after all.
***
Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams busting an award-winning kiss in the rain they weren’t.
Kip adjusted the straps of his pack and shot Carly a watery smile. Carly shivered and looked less than impressed, strands of auburn hair clinging wetly to her cheeks under her jacket’s hood.
Three hours into their four hour hike it started to spit. Just a few scattered droplets splattering their nylon jackets, making tiny popping sounds. Then the droplets gained a few milliliters of strength and turned into giant, overweight raindrops, dive-bombing them like kamikaze pilots.
Shit. Getting soaked to the skin wasn’t part of his grand plan.
“We could turn back,” she said as they trudged along an empty stretch of beach, the rain a monotonous hiss as it pounded sand and surf.
Kip squinted ahead. “We’re nearly at the campsite, and there’s a shelter set up.”
Carly huffed out a sigh. “Is there a hot shower and a nice warm bed, too?”
“I’ll keep you warm.”
He tried a baby, you know you love me smile, and she narrowed her eyes.
“Adventure, remember?” he said.
She muttered something about adventures he couldn’t quite decipher, though he identified a couple of phrases, one of which contained the words, “my ass.”
“Just trying to recreate the scene in that chick-flick movie you love…” he called out as she pulled ahead of him, her sexy curves shifting under the soaked fabric of her shorts. “It is Valentine’s Day, after all.”
Carly whirled and stabbed a finger at him. “You’re no Ryan Gosling, buddy.”
Catching the twitch of her lips struggling not to twist into a smile, he grinned.
“And we’d better hit this campsite soon,” she said. “Before this wedgie I’ve experienced for the last hour causes permanent nerve damage.”
The rain eased as they followed a trail through the sand dunes and tall sea grass into a small clearing.
“No one else here, see? We’ll have lots of privacy.” He led her under the shelter—consisting of a corrugated iron roof and two walls.
“Oh, I can’t wait to get this backpack off.” She moaned as she shrugged off the bag, allowing it to thump down onto one of the wooden benches. She stripped off her jacket and arched her back. “And I’m sure I’m getting a blister from these boots.”
Kip froze in the midst of shucking the straps off his own shoulders. Like heat-seeking missiles, his eyes were drawn to the outline of her breasts thrusting against the thin tee shirt.
Down, boy. As if he wasn’t already on the back foot with the crappy weather. Somehow he had to turn everything around.
“Sit.” He dropped his pack to the concrete floor of the shelter. “Let’s have a look. Blisters are no joking matter.”
“My bad. I should’ve worn the boots in a bit more.” Carly sat on the bench and unlaced her left boot. “My dad would’ve given me a solid ten minute lecture if I’d dared develop a blister on one of our hikes as a kid.”
Kip crouched and cupped her damp calf, easing off the boot then peeling down her sock. Her heal had gone pink, and at the center the skin had turned a little puffy from where a decent-sized blister was forming. He brushed his thumb lightly along the arch of her foot, and she squirmed.
“Your dad would’ve kicked my ass for not making sure you were better prepared.”
“Affirmative.”
“Well, how about I fix you up with the first aid kit, then make one of those herbal teas you like?”
She cocked her head. “Deal. Then we’ll tackle the tent together—I remember your promise of keeping me warm.”
An hour and a half later, Kip zipped the pup tent closed. The rain had tapered off while they’d quickly erected the tent, but gusts of wind still rustled through the sea grass and buffeted the sides.
He swiped damp palms down his shorts, and, on his knees, turned to Carly, who reclined on her sleeping bag, propped up on her elbow, watching him with a Mona Lisa smile. He stripped off his jacket and wet shirt. Got a nice reward when her whiskey-colored eyes went smoky.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
Kip crawled over to his sleeping bag, his shoulders brushing against the puffing-in-and-out nylon of the small tent.
“Anything.” He lay down on his back, patting his shoulder to indicate Carly should snuggle up. She did—edging over and resting her head on him.
“Why an overnight hike on Valentine’s Day?”
“As opposed to flowers and a cheesy card?”
“Yeah.” She ran her fingers down his chest to rest her hand on his stomach.
His skin tingled from her touch, and he sucked in an unsteady breath.
“I wanted to do something you’d remember. Something I knew you’d enjoy, after all your stories about you and your dad and Del hiking and camping when you were a kid.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, just continued to trace small circles on his stomach with a fingernail. “That was sweet of you, baby.”
He’d have to be deaf not to hear the “but” in her tone.
“But?” he asked. “I assumed you’d have fond memories of roughing it with your family.”
“Oh, I do. I have great memories of those times—some of which you’ve heard. But truthfully?” Carly propped herself up on her elbow and looked him in the face. “Truthfully, I hated every minute of those hikes while I was doing them. It’s only looking back that I can pretend I didn’t mind the rehydrated meals, the aching legs, smelling Dad and Del’s stinky feet and socks, and ugh, being crammed between two snoring males in a tent. Not fun.”
Well. Damn.
He’d completely screwed his original vision of proposing to the love of his life under the southern skies. Turned out, the love of his life had glossed over her dislike of the great outdoors.
“So, why did you agree to come out here with me?” He slid his fingers through her hair—starting to frizz
from drying without product, according to Carly. She looked adorable. “Sweetheart, you could’ve just said you’d rather spend the day doing something else.”
“I want to be with you,” she said. “Whether it’s snuggled up in your bed or wrestling around in a tiny, sock-smelling tent in the rain.” She paused and glanced over to her left. The pitter-patter of drizzle grew heavier, turning into another solid downpour. “There’s nothing I would rather do, than you. Right here and now.” Her smile went hot, and the hand resting on his stomach dropped lower.
Kip tugged Carly’s wrist, spilling the luscious weight of her across him. He’d make it up to her, and he knew exactly how.
***
Kip made up for Carly’s dislike of camping with two orgasms that caused her to scream the tent down, but he was shit outta ideas when the tent literally had come down. On top of them.
While Carly had laughed her ass off as they’d struggled out of the soaked nylon in the pouring rain, he couldn’t expect the poor woman to spend the night in the campsite. So he’d come up with a less appealing plan B.
After packing up their gear, they slogged through a torrential downpour to the hut maintained by the Department of Conservation. Though the cabin-like structure was probably occupied, he’d throw himself on the mercy of the other hikers and beg for a bit of floor space where they could sleep.
Great Valentine’s Day surprise, he thought, gut clenching as he spotted the faint glow of candlelight from the hut’s windows. So much for a romantic evening sleeping under the stars and waiting for the perfect time to whip out the little velvet box hidden in his pack.
Carly squeezed his hand. “Stop puzzling, Kip; your puzzler will get sore. Relax, it’ll be fun.”
Fun? Fun was being wrapped up in his woman’s arms with his hands all over her amazing body. That Carly could laugh about the situation only made him love her more.
My Forever Valentine: New Zealand Happy-Ever-After Romance (Due South: A Sexy New Zealand Romance Book 5) Page 3
