Fevered Nights. Jillian Burns
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18
“I DON’T WANT to do this.” Waiting behind a backdrop, Piper rebelliously sneaked a peek at the crowd waiting on the terrace of the South Beach Yacht Club. The members of this club were conservative, distinguished. The movers and shakers of Miami.
“Don’t worry,” Piper’s assistant, Ragi Bhagat, reassured. “All you have to do is look beautiful and present the trophy.”
Hah. Piper clenched her fists. Story of my life. Looking beautiful was all she’d ever been good for. But it paid the bills.
Ragi swept Piper’s long hair around to one side and flicked an imaginary piece of fluff off her linen dress. “You’ll be fine.”
Piper wasn’t so sure. The last time she’d been in Miami she’d caused a horrible front-page scandal. Her photo had been splashed on the cover of every tabloid, along with a salacious headline about the “notorious bad girl’s” arrest at the cruise terminal. That had only been four months ago.
“Smile.” Ragi shoved a three-foot-tall, double-handled gold chalice into her hands.
Piper staggered under its weight, barely righting herself on her four-inch wedge espadrilles. After throwing Ragi a mutinous glare, she pasted on a smile and climbed the stairs to the dais, positioning herself just to the right of the podium with the microphone. The yacht club sat on a hill overlooking the water, but despite the ocean breeze, it was bloody hot for May.
The woman at the podium was wrapping up her speech. “And thanks to everyone who participated in the regatta, we’ve raised three-hundred-and-seventy-five-thousand dollars for a children’s hospital in Miami.”
Applause erupted and the woman stepped back, extending her arm to her left. “And here is the winner of the race to receive his trophy, Lieutenant Neil Barrow!”
More applause exploded, even louder and more raucous, as a rugged man bounded confidently up the stairs to shake the woman’s hand. His gray Go Navy T-shirt had a triangle of dampness down the front and under each arm. Dog tags hung around his neck. His sandy brown hair was slightly longer than she thought a military man’s would be, and a few curls clung to his neck and temples. He flashed a smile to the crowd, and then placed his hands low on his hips and glanced at Piper.
He did a classic double take as he swept his gaze down her body and back up again to meet her eyes. She caught the gleam of appreciation and...surprise.
What? He didn’t think lingerie model Piper would spend her day at a charity event? Well, that was why she was here. To clean up her image, right? Though visiting the hospital this morning had been both enlightening and painful. So many children. There’d been that young boy who’d reminded her of Nandan. Her brother had been the same age the last time she’d seen him.
“Piper!” Ragi whispered loudly from behind the backdrop. “Hand him the trophy.”
Piper pasted on her most brilliant smile and stepped forward, offering the trophy to the man. As he took it from her, she leaned in to kiss his cheek, but he turned so that her lips touched his. After a split second of shock he pressed closer, switching the peck into a real kiss.
His lips were warm, gentle, inviting. Then they opened to deepen the kiss. Her breathing hitched, and a heat that had nothing to do with the weather consumed her as his mouth took hers.
The audience burst into applause. Someone whistled shrilly.
Snapped from her daze, Piper pulled away. Her heart was pounding. She touched the back of her hand to her flaming cheek. Was she getting a fever?
The lieutenant’s eyes twinkled as he lifted his head to focus on her. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he whispered.
The bubble popped. Piper sighed. What had she expected? She’d just let him give her a sensational kiss. In public. She brought the arctic to her expression. “I’m busy.”
His brows drew together. He seemed taken aback. Obviously he’d expected her to accept. Maybe even skip dinner altogether and jump right into his bed. But that was the old Piper.
He shrugged, then faced the crowd and grinned, lifting the trophy above his head. The applause roared to life. There was a palpable energy rising from the gathering. Bulbs flashed from journalists’ cameras, and cell phones were held aloft to video the events.
The naval officer’s biceps flexed as he pumped the trophy up and down in a traditional sign of victory. He waved to the people a final time then jogged down the platform steps. No opportunistic speech about his involvement with the charity? Nothing about his commitment to poor, sick children?
The woman emcee reclaimed the microphone and announced the charity race would officially end with the gala ball on the terrace at eight. The crowd dispersed. Piper was scheduled to attend the gala ball. Get her photo taken with the hospital administrator, the mayor and whoever else could help repair her reputation. Must play nice if she wanted her contract with Modelle Cosmetics renewed.
She headed down the steps of the platform and toward the club’s lounge. Someone’s hand touched her shoulder and she turned.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend back there,” the navy guy said with a lopsided grin. “Just got caught up in the moment.”
Offend? A few months ago she’d have already had him in her hotel room by now, going at it hot and heavy. Piper offered him a tight smile in return. “It’s fine.” She went to leave.
“So give me another chance? I swear I can be a gentleman.”
Piper stilled. Yeah. Sure. “Look, I know you think that because of what you’ve read about me I’m—”
“Read about you?” He frowned.
She studied him. “Right. You don’t know who I am?”
“Should I? I’m sorry. I’m out of the country a lot.”
Out of the country? As if maybe he lived on a ship? Even still. Could he be for real?
“Honestly. I have no agenda but dinner.” He lifted one shoulder and smiled. “And maybe a good-night kiss.”
His smile jolted through her. She looked into his eyes. Warm brown eyes that reminded her of burnished copper. Eyes that seemed genuine and untroubled.
What would that be like? To spend time with someone who wasn’t using her for their own selfish reasons. But that kind of person didn’t exist.
Still, she was so bored with this whole reformed-bad-girl act. And she absolutely did not want to stand around at that gala tonight pretending to make nice. “Okay.”
“Really? I mean, great. The club’s dining room? Say...an hour?”
Nodding, she turned away, her heart thudding again. Would she never learn to think before she acted? Despite his assertions, the guy probably thought he could get her into bed. Failing that—and he would—he probably wanted his name and picture linked with hers in the papers. His fifteen minutes of fame.
Ragi would be furious that she’d made this date. She’d insist on Piper schmoozing at the gala first. The PR firm had been scrambling to find events where she could make appearances and restore her image. So far, the approach had been working. Just last week Modelle had hinted that they would consider renewing her contract when it expired next month.
She’d