Fevered Nights. Jillian Burns
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“Then, I can see why you’d have to be a good swimmer.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Yeah.” He nodded. “You do.”
She grimaced. “Why do I get the feeling I’ve said something incredibly stupid?”
“No.” He looked alarmed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“It’s all right. You wouldn’t be the first.” She forced a small smile. “Or the last.”
Instead of agreeing with her, he narrowed his eyes and scrutinized her face. “No one should ever make you feel stupid.”
Piper’s mouth dropped open. She had no idea what to say to that. This man had only just met her, didn’t know her at all, yet he’d touched a raw nerve with such precision and then soothed it in the space of a few seconds.
He took a sip of his wine and the food arrived. Grabbing his knife and fork, he ignored the salad and dug into his steak with gusto. After he’d swallowed a bite, he looked up. “All I meant about the swimming was that unlike my buddy, I was usually last at everything at BUD/S, except for that and diving.” He forked another bite of steak and popped it into his mouth.
“I find that hard to believe.”
He stopped chewing and met her gaze. She’d been staring at his chest, wondering if it was hairy or smooth. Despite his average height and build, she sensed strength in his every move. Power lurking beneath the surface. Just thinking about the muscles that bunched under his suit coat made her want to slide it off and run her hands down his arms.
Her face heated. She concentrated on her salad, picking at the spinach.
“That really all you’re going to eat?”
“If I want to continue to work.”
Funny, she wasn’t the least bit interested in food right now. Usually, limiting her caloric intake was a struggle. When she’d first arrived in London, she’d wanted to stuff her face every chance she got. But Ms. H had controlled her diet with an iron hand from the beginning.
It had seemed a ridiculous paradox to her at first; living in such luxury and yet still going hungry. But at least she’d been allowed to send money back to Nandan.
“Doesn’t seem right.” He shook his head. “Making women think that putting on a few pounds is the end of the world. Most guys I know don’t give a rat’s...behind about that.”
She bristled. “It’s my job.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean—” He sighed and gave her that lopsided grin. “I seem to be having an off night. Usually I’m a lot more suave than this.”
When his white teeth flashed and his eyes twinkled like that it was impossible to remain immune to his charm. Besides, it was a reassuring concept. To think that she could quit modeling and eat whatever she wanted, as much as she wanted, and the world would still spin on its axis. Her shoulders sagged. “I shouldn’t be so sensitive. Tell me more about BUD/S.”
His attention seemed to turn inward and he remained silent.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“No, that’s not it. I’m just not sure any description could do it justice.”
“Please, I’m very curious.” Genuinely, she wasn’t bored at all.
After a brief hesitation, he set down his knife and fork. “Okay.” He took a deep breath, braced his elbows on the table and folded his arms one on top of the other. “The first eight weeks is PT. Physical training. Timed runs, obstacle course, timed swims—and we’re talking in the Pacific. You get used to being frozen, wet and miserable. And no sleep. The worst is Hell Week. I don’t know how many times I almost quit. Our class started with over two hundred guys, and at the end of the six months, only fourteen graduated.”
“Wow.”
“Bellamy was always first to finish everything. Push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups. I’d come straggling in last—or not even finish—and have to do it all over again. Except swimming. Like I said, being good in the water saved me.
“The next eight weeks we still ran the beach, the obstacle or O-course, but we were mainly in the water. Swimming, diving, SCUBA, underwater combat. Holding your breath till you think your lungs will explode.”
Piper couldn’t imagine. Why would anyone volunteer for such hardship?
“The last nine weeks we learned weapons, demolition, patrolling, rappelling and marksmanship.”
“Why put yourself through all that?”
His expression hardened. “My father asked me the same thing. He wanted me to go to law school like him.” He shook his head. “I think he had aspirations of me becoming president someday. But there was no way I was going into politics like my old man.”
He drew in a breath, sat back and, slowly, his eyes lost their glow of resentment. But his jaw was still set with grim determination. “I wanted that trident pin. Like my uncle. I wanted to make my life count for something.”
It occurred to Piper that she was holding her breath. His passion for what he did overwhelmed her. Made her feel horribly insignificant. Neil ensured the safety of millions. She hadn’t even been able to save her brother.
He blinked and reached across the table for her hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve never talked this much about myself in my life.”
His fingers heated her, and she curled her hand inward and pulled her fist down into her lap. “I asked you.”
“Still, not exactly an appetizing topic.” Belying his words, he grabbed up his fork and made short work of finishing his steak and potato. Piper forced a few bites of the salad.
“You don’t like the wine?” He finished what was left in his glass and gestured with the stem toward her barely touched one.
She blinked. She’d forgotten about it? “Oh, no, it’s very good.” She grabbed up the glass and swallowed a mouthful.
He stood. “Let’s get out of here.” Without waiting for her response, he motioned to the waiter for a check and signed it, then came around to pull her chair out for her.
Before she could think, he’d taken her hand, helped her into one of the cabs waiting outside, and instructed the driver to take them to The Heat Wave.
The nightclub? Deafening music, flowing alcohol, hordes of bodies all moving to the pounding rhythm in dark anonymity. A place like that was like a drug to her. A drug she’d denied herself for months. Oh, to slip onto the dance floor and lose herself in the intoxicating tempo. She could press against Neil’s hard body and feel his pulse match up with hers. Maybe the press would follow them, snap some pictures... Maybe that would make up for not being seen at the gala tonight. She could even go home with Neil. Spend the night in his arms. And, at least for now, ease the unspeakable loneliness.
But the counselor in rehab had warned her to stay away from old triggers. To try to rise above doing whatever felt good—but was bad—in the moment. And she needed that contract with Modelle so she could afford the private investigators.
She clutched Neil’s arm. “No!”
* * *
NEIL STILLED IN SURPRISE. She didn’t want to go to a nightclub and dance? He’d almost suggested a walk along the beach and then thought better of it. A beautifully exotic woman like Piper, in her slinky dress and heels, walking in the sand and surf? So he’d figured she’d want to dance. Be around a crowd closer that was familiar to her.
She fell back against the seat and rubbed her forehead. “Look, I’m knackered. Can we just go back to my hotel?”
We? Was she inviting him back to her hotel? Desire for her had been a slow burn inside him all evening, waiting for a spark of