Wicked Nights by Anne Marsh Page B

much.” Of course, she hadn’t been playing fair herself,
    but she’d keep those details to herself.
    “So...” Carla lobbed the paper cup at the recycle bin. “Was it as horrific as my diver last month, who
    pulled off his wet suit and his speedo in one go? ’Cause the guy was at least sixty pounds overweight and
    had never heard of manscaping. My eyes are still burning. Cal Brennan is pretty hot.”
    “It’s not a beauty pageant.”
    “And if it was, you’d win,” her assistant said loyally.
    Piper performed a pageant wave and wiped away a mock tear. “Thank you. I’ll pick up my tiara later.”
    “But he is, right?”
    Unfortunately, Carla was right. “On a scale of one to ten, he’s a definite ten. Maybe even an eleven if he
    keeps his mouth shut.”
    “Jump him.” Carla shrugged. “Get him out of your system.”
    Piper didn’t want to even think about how long it had been since she’d had sex. One of the downsides
    to living on an island with four thousand people was the minuscule size of the dating pool. Casual summer
    hookups weren’t really her thing, which had further limited her options. Plus, she hadn’t dated much in
    high school or college. A few casual nights out here and there—practice guys, as her teammates called
    them. She’d been too busy training and competing to do anything else. If she needed a guy for a formal
    event, she borrowed one from the swim team and called it good. Getting Cal out of her system shouldn’t
    have sounded so appealing.
    “I’m not attracted to Cal.” Unfortunately, she couldn’t summon a shred of proof to back up the
    statement.
    “Not attracted to him? Or you just don’t like him? Because you can totally have sex with him without
    liking him.”
    True. “Yeah. About that.”
    “You already did!” Carla fist-pumped. “You go!”
    She shot her friend a look. “Absolutely not. There has been no sex. But I may have made a teeny tiny
    bet with him.”
    Carla stared at her expectantly. “Don’t stop there. Keep talking.”
    “I may have suggested that the person who loses the Fiesta contract takes orders from the winner for
    one night. In bed.” She thumped her head against the counter. “When will I learn to think before I speak?”
    Carla grinned. “Probably never. You might want to plan on winning.”
    Piper threw her cup at Carla. Unfortunately, she’d done nothing but think about Cal and getting him into
    bed.

    * * *
“DID YOU KICK butt and take names?” Daeg didn’t take his eyes off the trail as he asked his question.
    When Cal had brought his two former teammates over to the island, they’d vowed to work out together five
    times a week, putting their bodies through their SEAL paces. They might not be active duty anymore, but
    they’d stay in fighting form. That was one thing Cal could still control.
    Now, four miles into their eight-mile run, he was mentally counting down the seconds until they got to
    the swimming portion of the day’s workout. So far, he’d managed to keep his fear of submerging under
    wraps. Or, rather, he’d worked around it well enough that Daeg and Tag were pretending they hadn’t
    noticed anything. Eventually, however, they’d point out the obvious. Cal didn’t dive. Ever.
    Daeg had come back to Discovery Island at the beginning of the summer when Cal had put out his call
    for help and now, two months later, it looked as though the man wasn’t going anywhere. He’d rescued
    Danielle Andrews from the tropical storm that had passed near the island; she’d rescued him from some
    inner demons of his own. Cal smelled wedding bells in the not-so-distant future. Cal was glad his former
    teammate had signed on to the dive business permanently, and he was looking forward to bringing more
    former SEALs out to the island just as soon as he could.
    “I made a few calls,” he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the path in front of them. “To see if there
    was anything for sale on Discovery Island. When