A MALE ARM pinned her to the bed. An arm that matched the leg tossed casually over her own leg. Piper squinted and spotted her panties on the floor in the dim morning light. Getting dressed seemed like a logical next step, so she worked her way out from beneath the arm and sat up. She preferred sleeping with the curtains open because she liked seeing the ocean. Plus, it wasn’t as if she had neighbors. Other than the very occasional fisherman or motorboat, there was no one to see in. Liberated, she stood up and padded over to the window. Yep. Same ocean view she’d admired every morning for the past two years. The difference lay in the bed behind her. Resting her forehead against the glass, she postponed turning around.
The rustle of sheets warned her time was up. “Piper?”
Cal’s raspy voice made her melt and sent heat shooting through her body. Apparently, one night hadn’t been enough to get him out of her system, after all.
“Present and accounted for,” she said, when what she really wanted to say was “How come you’re still here?” It would have been easier if he’d done the walk of shame to his truck and gone home. Maybe. Or maybe he wasn’t a morning person and it was still too early for him to be thinking. She didn’t know. They’d skipped all the dating preliminaries and gone straight for the good stuff.
“Are you coming back to bed?” Did he want her to? She was a morning person.
“I’m up.” She padded barefoot over to the door. Maybe other people managed their mornings-after more smoothly, but talking just seemed awkward. Cal sat up, the sheet falling to his waist, and she revised her opinion. Naked was a good look for Cal.
“Is there something I’m supposed to say here?” He ran a hand over his head.
“I’m making coffee.” It had to be the lack of caffeine that had her considering crawling back into bed with him. “I’ve got work to do. Contracts to win. You can have the first shower.”
“Right.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. Do not look, she told herself as he swiped his clothes off the floor.
She kept repeating those words to herself over the course of the next twenty minutes while she made coffee and scared up a muffin. She was still trying to convince herself she’d succeeded when she parked her butt in a chair down by the water and finally admitted she’d failed.
Have sex with Cal.
Get him out of her system.
Hah.
Her plan was an epic backfire. She’d had sex with him. Once. And, hallelujah, it was likely going to happen a second time—she owed him a night, after all, and Cal always collected on their bets.
He’d taken charge of her, of her body. And she’d liked it.
Correction.
She’d loved it.
Out here, alone with her thoughts and the ocean, she could be honest with herself. She’d had no idea that not fighting with Cal could be so much fun. Toe-curling, senses-devastating fun. Apparently, he had hidden depths. She should have been plotting her dive program and figuring out how best to wow the Fiesta team. Instead...she was wondering if her night with Cal also included the morning after. And making a mental note to negotiate future bets more carefully.
Cal wasn’t just the Grim Reaper raining disapproval on her actions. He was sweet. Thoughtful. And he had a sense of humor. She’d known some of those things before—after all, anyone who came up with a bet where the loser wore a red, white and blue string bikini clearly had a fine sense of the ridiculous (and he’d agreed to wear the suit if he’d lost, so he was also fair). He’d also carted her butt down the sunbaked dock yesterday, like some kind of Sir Lancelot. At least, she thought that was the guy who’d tossed his grade-A and probably ermine-lined cloak over a mud puddle so his queen could keep her feet dry. Or maybe that was Sir Raleigh. Whoever the guy was, Cal had made her feel special last night.
Special.
Like there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Funny how she’d felt something suspiciously similar when he’d jackknifed into the water at Rose Wall. She wasn’t stupid and he’d never been a good liar. Something had gone wrong, and it hadn’t been with his equipment.
Equally clear, he didn’t want to talk about it. Keeping silent might be just a guy thing. A fish or a piece of seaweed had brushed his leg, and he’d startled. He was embarrassed. The big, tough navy SEAL had overreacted and was covering.
But...she didn’t think so.
SEAL training wasn’t some kind of covert op. While she’d never trained herself to be a SEAL or a rescue swimmer, she’d heard stories. Watched the videos on YouTube. Any man who could swim three hundred and fifty feet underwater before surfacing for a breath of air? That man wouldn’t have been worried by a leaky snorkel.
Nope. She suspected it was something else.
There had been plenty of island gossip about Cal’s last mission. Things had gone wrong, and his team had lost a man, or so she’d heard. He’d come home, but maybe he’d brought some mental baggage with him. Or he’d been injured and hadn’t wanted to tell anyone—again, just like Cal. She looked back toward the house. She could ask him.
In fact, she’d tried.
He’d shot her down. Deflected her with a night of hot sex.
The decoy routine alone was almost reason enough to ask him again before she started jumping to conclusions.
Or was tempted to read anything else into their night. Hot sex did not a relationship make, and she couldn’t afford to forget, not with the Fiesta contract on the line.
* * *
CAL DIDN’T GIVE up control—ever—and he’d certainly never played bondage games. Or any kind of games. Piper challenged those rules, just like she challenged everything else. Her wicked bet had him out of control. And the problem wasn’t just the sexual chemistry that made it hard to focus on anything but luring Piper back to bed—it was their fundamentally different approaches to diving. To life. To everything.
He did plenty of thinking while he showered, per Her Highness’s royal command. He wasn’t stupid enough to refuse the offer. These old cabins had notoriously flaky water heaters and he preferred hot water. Piper might have returned to the island two years ago—thank you island gossip—but she’d clearly been doing some redecorating since her arrival. The small bathroom had a new ceramic-tile floor and a sea-foam-green coat of paint. Her selection of shampoos and soaps were correspondingly girlie, and he either tolerated smelling like a fruit bowl when he got done or went dirty.
Using her shampoo caused trouble in the wanting-Piper department. She’d specified one night but, as he squirted apple-scented shampoo into his hand and lathered up, parts of him wanted to abandon the shower and go after her. Maybe she’d have downed enough coffee to shake the grumpiness and make her amenable to going back to bed. He didn’t know what she wanted. Hell. He didn’t know what he wanted, just that the Fiesta Cruise Lines folks had put both of them in an untenable position and he didn’t see any way out of it.
She wanted to provide resort dives to new divers, while he wanted to focus on technically challenging dives. His business plan would offer dives for the select and the best of the best—while she believed everyone should have a chance to slip underwater and see. This wasn’t kindergarten. Not everyone left with a gold sticker and a trophy, but convincing Piper would take a miracle. She was one of the most stubborn people he’d ever met.
Of course, her willfulness also extended to bed, and he had no complaints about that at all. He was just starting to heat back up again remembering last night when the water temperature proved the plumbing hadn’t improved with time. The pipes groaned, wheezed and then drenched him in icy water. The unexpected cold shower took care of his erection, so he got out and toweled off, dropping his used towel into the empty linen basket. After pulling his clothes back on, he moved out in search of Piper, who’d clearly bolted with no intention of returning. She wasn’t in the bedroom or the kitchen, although both rooms bore clear signs of her passing, since Piper wasn’t a tidy person.
She’d accomplished her mission in the kitchen. The room smelled of coffee beans and fresh brew, although there was no Piper. He poured himself a cup from her Mr. Coffee and cleaned up the damage. There was sugar on the counter, along with an open carton of half-and-half, a partially eaten muffin, which couldn’t possibly sustain life, and a dirty spoon. It wasn’t hard to figure out where she’d gone. Not only was the porch door open, but she’d left a little trail of disaster behind her, including an abandoned newspaper, muffin crumbs and the coffee cup sitting on an end table by the windows. Since the cup was still warm and therefore presumably fresh carnage, he snagged it, because she clearly was the kind of woman who, morning person or not, needed her caffeine in order to be civilized. He wasn’t going to push his luck.
When he stepped outside, she was parked in an Adirondack chair down on the scrap of beach. Little waves teased her flip-flops, but she didn’t seem to mind that her toes were definitely getting wet or that the ocean had attained a balmy fifty-five degrees.
He nudged her shoulder with his hip and offered her the cup. She traded him a smile for the mug, so he was already in the black for the day. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected after her sudden flight from the bed.
“So,” she said, taking a slurp from her mug, which had him wincing. “What’s your plan for the day?”
Asking, not telling. On the other hand, she’d said “your” and not “our,” so clearly, he still had his work cut out for him.
“Because I thought we should discuss next steps on the diving proposal,” she said, as if they were purely business acquaintances and last night had never happened.
It was all very civilized. He half expected her to whip out a planner and start penciling him in. She obviously wasn’t fighting the same urges he was. To reach out and put his mouth on her neck. To run his fingers down her arm and tug her back into bed with him. Nope. She was all business.
“We need to finalize our sites,” she said. “We should probably coordinate our diving partners, as well, decide which boat we’re going to take—that kind of stuff.”
Going back to bed was apparently off the table. Good to know. “Your plan sounds fine,” he said gruffly.
“Okay, good. We’ll reconvene on Monday.” She gave him a tentative smile.
Monday was two days—and nights—from now.
“Come with me now.” He blurted the words out without thinking. “You know my mother. She does Saturday-morning brunch and there’s always room for one more.”
“Why?” Piper asked.
He ran a hand over his head. “Because you need to eat? And my mother cooks enough food for a small army?”
He had a place of his own just down the road from his mother, but he usually ate at her house. It was a win-win situation. He kept an eye on his mother; she fed him. He hadn’t been home long enough to worry about dating. It wasn’t like he had time, plus he wasn’t exactly relationship worthy at the moment. Of course, Piper had made it perfectly clear she was using him only for his body. He knew he was grinning but he’d just had the best sex of his life last night and he was in a good mood. He wasn’t letting Piper ruin that.
She didn’t look precisely overwhelmed by his breakfast offer, however. “Last night doesn’t change anything. We’re not dating.”
“Did I ask you out on a date?” Piper and him on a date? The thought wasn’t all that bad.
She slurped at her coffee. “Nope. I wasn’t sure if the omission was an oversight on your part or not.”
Holding back his laugh was impossible. That was Piper. Supremely confident. “You were the one who took advantage of me. I think any dating moves should come from you.”
She eyed the bottom of her mug. “How is this my fault?”
“You told me to get on your bike. And then you had your way with me.” He squatted next to her, hands cupping his own mug when what he really wanted was to be touching her. Huh. Imagine that.
“That’s one interpretation.”
“So I’m hearing a no for breakfast?”
He had to get going. He had a hundred things to do today, and there was no way his mother hadn’t noticed his absence last night. She might not say anything—although there was a fifty-fifty chance she would—but he’d swear she had her own secret spies or a highly developed Spidey sense, because she’d always noticed when one of his siblings had stayed out overnight. Saturday-morning breakfast was not optional. He’d thought... He didn’t know what he’d thought. Pancakes and sausage weren’t a diamond ring, and Piper had eaten breakfast at his house before. She had no business getting huffy with him. Plus, she had to be hungry.
Right on cue, her stomach growled, because as he’d suspected, half a muffin did not a breakfast make.
“I rest my case.”
“I’m not coming with you.” She’d done that more than once last night, which was apparently the problem.
“Why not?”
She stared at him for a moment. Maybe it was a girl thing, but he had no idea what he’d said wrong. “I just had sex with my main competition for the Fiesta contract.”
“You were amazing,” he said and he meant it, too. Again, apparently not the right thing to say, because she sighed.
“You owe me quarters,” she said pointedly. “Lots and lots of quarters.”
“I make you swear?”
“You make me do a lot of things, but this one’s all on me.” She fiddled with her coffee cup. “We shouldn’t have done this, but it’s been a long time coming. We’ve had this chemistry thing between us for years, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised it kind of bubbled over last night.”
He’d never heard really hot sex described out loud as a chemistry thing that bubbled over, but she could call their night whatever she wanted as long as he got to repeat it again.
“So no breakfast?”
“Having sex would be a conflict of interest.”
“No breakfast. Got it.”
* * *
HER COFFEE CUP wasn’t going to magically replenish itself. Piper snuck a peek at Cal. She was probably pushing her luck to ask him for a refill. Or anything else. She still didn’t know why he was sticking around or making offers of breakfast. Worse, part of her wanted to say yes and hop in his truck with him.
She’d had sex with him.
Super hot, fantastic, slightly kinky sex.
That, she could do. Brunch with Cal’s mother? Not so much. They were childhood acquaintances, sure, and if the Brennans were hosting a two-hundred-person barbecue, she (and the rest of the island) would expect an invite. An intimate weekend brunch, however, was so far out of her league he might as well have invited her to Mars. Saturday morning was for family and she wasn’t that.
She scooped a stone from the sand. So what if she wanted to go? They both watched her stone skip over the water. Once. Twice. And...sink. Yep. Pretty much like her heart.
“Not bad.” He leaned down and snagged a stone. “Watch and learn.”
The playful gleam in his eye had her thinking about going back to bed. Maybe they could both not go to brunch. No. Bad libido. She had to get this chemistry thing under control.
He launched the stone with a smooth flick of his wrist. The scruff on his jaw made him look impossibly sexy and more than a little rumpled. Apparently, he was not only a rock star in bed, but he was also king of skipping stones, because his stone sailed over the waves, ignoring her silent jinxes.
“One. Two. Three. Four.”
The stone sank beneath a wave. Darn it. He’d smoked her.
Which didn’t mean she had to give in easily. Or even graciously. “The last one didn’t count.”
He raised a brow. “You’re a sore loser.”
Probably, but this was Cal, and she wasn’t giving up yet. “Plus, mine went farther.”
“If you want to swim out there and compare rocks, go right ahead.”
“Pass.”
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his back pocket. “I’ve got to go.”
She’d known that since he woke up. Standing up, he brushed a kiss over her mouth.
Say something.
“I’ll see you on Monday?”
She made her words half question, half polite brush-off. Monday was good. They’d already settled their work schedule. What was still undecided, however, was how they were going to deal with the chemistry they had between them.
“You still owe me a night.”
“Oh.” Yes, please.
“You can bet I’m collecting,” he growled.
* * *
THE BRENNAN PLACE was a big, rambling home perched above the ocean. The house had a seemingly endless supply of bedrooms and hidey-holes, all of which had been a lifesaver growing up, as Cal’s parents had been fairly prolific. He had three younger sisters and two brothers. His mother was the center of their universe, and he was more than okay with that. He was fortunate to have always had her at his back. She’d understood when he’d enlisted and left the island, but she’d also made it clear he’d always have a home. His father’s unexpected death from a heart attack three years ago had been rough, but they’d weathered it together, because they were family, and family stuck.
He had, however, bought his own place just down the road, when he’d been home on leave, a fixer-upper, which he was slowly restoring on the weekends. He loved his family, but he didn’t need to be glued at the hip with them. Since he’d moved back to the island permanently only six months ago, the cottage was still a work in progress. Or, as his sisters called it, a disaster with potential. In the plus column, he had two bedrooms, one bathroom and a DayGlo-green kitchen, which opened up to a living room area with a panoramic view of the ocean. The minus column had been enough to lower the price to bargain territory, however. The roof leaked, the hot water was more temperamental than Tag without coffee, and Cal had pulled up the shag carpeting only to learn that the hardwood underneath must have been used by a small herd of dogs and boys to run the Indy 500 with cleats on. After a quick pit stop to change his clothes and run his eyes over the day’s to-do list, he walked up the road to the family place. Two of his younger sisters were there, home from college for the summer. His third sister was in Paris, practicing her French. Or, at least, he hoped she was practicing her French and not meeting sexy French men. Luke, his baby brother, was home on leave from the U.S. Army Rangers. It promised to be a loud, boisterous, fun brunch.
They liked Piper. They liked her family. No one would have questioned her presence, although they might have wondered how he and Piper had arrived together without killing each other. Their spats were family legend, as were the paybacks and practical jokes.
His mother was in the kitchen when he arrived. After popping the requested juice into the fridge, he went up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
“You took your time getting here.” She was smiling when she said it, so he wasn’t in trouble yet.
“And yet I still have first dibs on the bacon.” He reached around her to snag a crispy strip from the stack on the plate. She’d already fried at least two pounds of bacon, and there was a roll of paper towels conveniently close by to clean up the carnage. Those were the perfect ingredients for a Saturday morning. He thought about Piper going without bacon and decided it was her loss. He’d wanted her to come, but she’d turned him down.
He kind of wished she were here. Piper and bacon on a Saturday morning would be even better. His mother smacked his hand away from the plate but not before he’d snagged two more pieces. He took his prize and leaned against the counter.
“I’d make bacon for you on other mornings. It doesn’t have to be a Saturday-morning exclusive,” she grumbled.
“It tastes better on Saturdays?” Plus, he didn’t need to kill himself. Too much of a good thing wouldn’t help when he had to swim five hundred yards in twelve minutes. But this was bacon and exceptions had to be made.
She hummed her agreement and poured pancake batter onto her griddle. He crunched his way through the bacon, considered stealing a fourth piece, then washed his hands and moved next to her to chop potatoes. He knew the deal.
“How’s work? Did you get your contract?”
The status of said contract was a popular question. “When we get the Fiesta contract, I’ll be able to expand. I’ve got feelers out on adding a new location. It would be good to keep the command center separate from our gear, and I want to bring on some other guys getting out of the service.”
She deftly flipped a pancake onto the growing stack. His siblings ate enough for an entire SEAL unit. “You’re sure about landing the deal?”
He grinned. “It’s down to us and Dream Big and Dive. We’re going to win.”
She poured a new batch of pancakes. “That’s Piper Clark’s place, right?”
“Yep.” He slid the potatoes into a free pan. “She’s running a place down on the boardwalk.”
“How is Piper?”
He’d bet his mother had seen Piper at least once this week. The island simply wasn’t that big, and he made a mental note to check his mother’s Facebook page—and the ultimate source of island gossip—soon. If his mother had proof he and Piper were together (and while they weren’t together, they weren’t not together, either), she’d post the news for everyone to read.
“Piper’s fine,” he said carefully, not wanting to give the game away.
Better than fine. The memories of last night were the forever kind of memories. Piper in bed was spectacular. This morning had been pretty great, too, right up until the moment when she’d kicked him out. He’d liked sharing a cup of coffee with her. When they weren’t fighting, she was great company.
“Uh-huh.” His mother’s snort of laughter said it all. “How many fights have the two of you had so far?”
He counted. Zero, zip and nada. No fights in the past twelve hours had to be a record. Apparently the one place he and Piper agreed was in bed.
“We’re not so bad.”
His mother eyed the bubbles forming in the center of the pancakes and teased up the edge of one with her spatula. “You’re worse. The two of you are like oil and water. Whatever one does, the other takes issue with.”
“She’s stubborn. She always wants to do things her way.”
“And you don’t?”
“Aren’t you supposed to take my side?”
“If you want unconditional love, get a dog.”
“Isn’t this where you segue into the speech about finding a girl and settling down?”
“Piper’s still single.”
Danger. “And you just pointed out that she never agrees with me about anything. A lack of consent is going to make the I-do part of the wedding ceremony difficult.”
He had a quick mental image of Piper getting married. She wasn’t a big, puffy gown kind of person—he still shuddered when he remembered his sister’s dress—but he could see her barefoot on the sand in something simple and short. She’d look good. Not, of course, that he had any business imagining Piper getting married. Whoever the guy was who took her on, he’d probably take issue with last night’s shenanigans. Plus, Cal wasn’t ready to give her up yet.
“It doesn’t have to be Piper, although she’s a nice girl. Settling down is a good thing.”
“And it comes with fringe benefits,” announced a throaty female voice behind them. Allie always enjoyed teasing him about marriage, probably because she’d met her own match in college. If Cal ever had daughters, he was sending them to an all-girls school. In the middle of nowhere. She and Dan had gotten married last year up in Napa. Cal didn’t know much about weddings, but the winery had been busting out all over in flowers and his sister had glowed. Plus, they’d thrown a reception in the wine cave, and while he was more of a beer guy, he’d discovered that the right Pinot Noir was a beautiful thing.
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.