In Too Deep (13 page)

Bill emerged from the cooler with
an armful of carrots. “You get much hotter girl and your punk
hair-do will catch fire. Then you’ll need to take a dip like
West.”

Piper yanked the ties around her
waist and knotted them. “Why am I not surprised you know about
that.”

“
Because I’m all-seeing and
all-knowing—and if you didn’t want to cause an explosion in the
gossip pool, you should’ve kept your hands off my boy.” Bill placed
the vegetables on the prep counter and moved to the
stove.

“
Your boy’s an ass—” She caught
herself, remembering he was the asshole’s father.
“Idiot.”

“
An ass-idiot? Don’t believe I’ve
heard anyone call him that before.”

Piper glanced at Bill’s slumped
posture as he stirred a delicious smelling concoction in a large
saucepan. “Well, he is one.”

She moved past him and twisted on
the hot water tap, adding a squirt of dishwashing detergent to the
sink.

Behind her Bill sighed
theatrically. “What’d he do this time?”

Piper whipped around to give him
an earful on what an irresponsible, unfeeling and plain frustrating
excuse for a human being his son was, when Bill’s pasty face and
hunched shoulders shoved aside her lingering temper.

Holy crap. Bill Westlake was not a
well man.

She twisted the hot water tap off.
“Remember when you said I looked like something Donny had vomited
up on the carpet? Well, right now you look like the something that
squeezes out his other end.”

“
Yeah, I’m feeling a bit crook
today.”

She could count on one hand the
times Bill had taken a day off when she was a kid, and he never,
ever admitted to being unwell. “Good grief. Did hell just freeze
over?”

He snorted, coughed, and looked
miserable. Piper stood alongside him, taking in the slight yellow
discoloration of his skin and the way his apron bagged around his
stomach. Maybe he didn’t have much of a beer belly to start
with—but given she’d had to nag him to stop for meals since she’d
been back…

“
I’m going to make an appointment
with the doc for you and I’m guessing it probably isn’t still
Nigel.”

“
He left a couple of years
ago.”

“
Sensible man,” she muttered, and
then louder, “So who’s his replacement?”

“
Joe Whelan, a young Irish lad.
Number’s the same. It’s by the phone. But I don’t need a bleedin’
doctor. I’m just a bit off-color.”

“
Uh-huh.” Piper gave him her
mother’s look, which she practiced and renamed as her
I’m a cop
and I will kick your ass
glare. “You’re
going
to see the
doctor and don’t make me drag your son into this. He’s already in a
foul mood.”

“
Hah. Like West can make me do
something I don’t want.” He turned back to the stove and stirred
his pot.

“
No? Well, I can.”

Bill uttered a couple of foul
words he must’ve picked up in the army, followed by a cynical
huffing noise.

Piper sauntered over and picked up
the wall phone receiver. “I’ll just give my mum a ring, shall I?
Tell her to alert the church ladies that you’re feeling poorly?
They’ll be down in their
droves
to fuss all over
you.”

Bill’s shoulders hunched so high
they touched the lobes of his reddened ears. “Anyone ever tell you
you’re a scheming bitch?”

Piper replaced the receiver with a
grin. “I consider it an off day if someone doesn’t.”

“
Make an appointment, then,” Bill
said, and slammed the lid on the saucepan.

Chapter 7

West's shitty
day just kept getting shittier.

As if being the laughing stock of
Oban with Piper shoving him off the wharf wasn’t enough, he’d
arrived back at Due South to find his dad taking a sickie. So he
had to juggle staff, which wouldn’t have been a storm in a teacup
except two of his waitresses were also home in bed with the flu.
Which meant he’d run his ass off serving tables instead of bailing
Piper up in a dark corner and finding out
what the hell was her
problem
.

And now, with the kitchen closed
for the night and things slowing down in the pub, he finally found
a spare minute, only to discover the kitchen was deserted. She’d
bailed.

Typical.

Striding into the pub, West caught
Kip’s eye behind the bar. “Bring a beer to my office when you get a
moment.”

Curious stares tracked his every
movement—he’d never live the dive off the wharf down. He turned on
his heel and walked out again. Half an hour till closing and he was
gone. And if Piper was tucked up sound asleep? He’d take pleasure
in disrupting her sweet dreams.

The lights were off when he
arrived home an hour later. West stepped into the foyer and toed
off his shoes, tempted to hammer on Ben’s door and wake him up too,
since he’d caught him busting a gut as he climbed back onto the
wharf. Ha-frickin-ha.

But, no. He and Piper had things
to say that he didn’t want Ben overhearing.

He climbed the stairs, turned on
the lights, and headed to the back door to feed Donny. Not that the
mutt needed an extra handful of dog biscuits since Piper started
sneaking him kitchen leftovers. The dog biscuit bag by the back
door had a note taped to it:
Wake me when you get in, no matter
what time. We need to talk about Bill.

That sucked the joy right out of
jarring her awake. Not that he’d softened his ass-kicking stance
just because she had some concern for his father.

Crazy, impulsive little
witch.

He blew a stream of annoyed air
out his nose and opened the biscuit bag, grabbing two. Donny
shuffled from foot to foot on the back step, his tail a wagging
blur as West opened the door and tossed him his supper.

“
And don’t think you’re getting
another later.” Except he’d cave like wet cardboard when Donny
started his soft whining.

“
I’m such a pussy.” He leaned
against the closed door, slanting a look down the hallway. “And not
just with the dog.”

Walking the few steps to his
office, West scrubbed his hand over his jaw. He didn’t have the
energy to deal with Piper tonight after all. Surely a case of the
man flu wasn’t enough to warrant a late night nag-session? He could
think of a few things he’d rather do than challenge Piper to a
verbal duel at midnight.

Like slide a hand up those long
tanned thighs? Or crawl into her bed and plant a trail of hot, wet
kisses from the indentation of her throat due south?

West leaned an arm against the
door and dropped his forehead on his elbow. Christ Almighty. He
needed to get a grip. Get a grip, and get laid with some pretty
stranger
who wasn’t Piper
.

The office door jerked inward and
he stumbled forward, just about flattening Piper, who stood,
squinting, in a white tank top and teeny-tiny shorts, her hair
mussed and flattened on one side. The hallway light angled down,
and the pajamas—if that’s what they were—showed more skin than they
covered.

West’s gaze plummeted to her
breasts. His cock woke up and completely sucked all the blood from
his remaining brain cells. “Ah…what is that thing on your
top?”

Piper looked down, made the
unfortunate motion of straightening the knit fabric, which only
emphasized the hardened buds of her nipples. “It’s Animal, you
know, from The Muppets.”

She cut him a glance which said,
“Why are we talking about pyjamas?” then her gaze lowered, skipping
to a part of his anatomy that totally rebelled against the whole
I’m not interested in having wild monkey sex with you
plan
his brain had settled on.

He bent closer, the hint of
coconut from the conditioner she’d pinched from his shower curling
into his nostrils. That, and the scent of mangoes on her skin, made
him want to lap her up. Sweet as warmed honey. West reached out to
see if the skin on her collarbone was as soft as he
remembered.

Eyes widening, she turned away.
“I’ll just grab my robe.”

He dropped his hand and clenched
his fist. Resisted the temptation to pound it into his forehead to
kick start his brain out of its adolescent lusting.
Hot things
burn, Westy. Look at the pretty flames, but don’t
touch.

She bent to pick up a pile of
black fabric pooled on the floor, and his gaze fastened on the
printed “A.N.I.M.A.L” across the bum of the shorts. The teeny, tiny
shorts now riding up the crack of her deliciously-shaped ass. He
wasn’t sure, but he thought he groaned. Either way, he nearly
swallowed his own goddamned tongue.

If she wore that get-up on their
overnight cruise this weekend he was screwed—because he couldn’t
keep his hands off.

He needed to get the hell away
from her. Now.

“
I’ll put the kettle on,” West
muttered and escaped to the kitchen.

***

Piper fastened her robe belt and
shoved her feet into a pair of fluffy yellow slippers. Jeez, by the
scandalized look on West’s face, anyone would think she’d been
sporting a skimpy Victoria’s Secret babydoll, rather than cartoon
printed shorts and a tank top. Maybe the kind of women he bedded
did wear
ridiculously expensive lingerie that made your butt
look fat if you were anything over a size eight. She snorted and
scraped fingers through a severe case of bed hair.

West looking at her half naked
shouldn’t make her insides feel all shivery and liquid—but it
did.

She padded out to the kitchen,
found him in front of the French doors, the kettle hissing on the
stove. Their gazes connected briefly in the reflection, before she
headed for the cabinets.

Piper snagged the last couple of
mugs, her heart flip-flopping at the faded cartoon figures on one.
A cluster of turkeys perched on a sad-faced elephant, and below, in
a fancy font:
Don’t let the turkeys get you down.

West took the mugs from her limp
fingers. “Tea?”

“
You kept it.” She bought the
turkey mug for him thirteen years ago.

“
I like it.” He switched the
kettle off when it began to wail. “So I kept it. Just like you kept
my Chilies shirt to sleep in. You still got it?”

“
No.” She hoped he wouldn’t hear
the lie in her voice. “I swapped to Animal, remember?” And then
she remembered
his reaction to her choice of sleepwear. Her
face ignited. Fair skin, bane of her life.

Piper opened the fridge door and
poked her head inside. “Yeah, I’ll have tea. You want
milk?”

“
Not if it’s the no-fat-no-taste
stuff you drink. I’d rather take it black.”

“
There’s a surprise.” The air
wafting out from the fridge cooled the heat stinging her
cheeks.

It’d lead him off the intended
topic of Bill’s health, but curiosity got the better of her. “I
found that mug in a little gift shop in Bluff. I had to borrow five
bucks off Shaye because as usual, I was broke, and she’d been
saving her pocket money for a rainy day.” Piper pulled out the
bottle of regular milk and set it on the table, tracking him out of
the corner of her eye.

West still wore work clothes—an
untucked charcoal shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows,
and khaki pants. His bare feet were long and wide, tanned from
hours outdoors, a contradiction to the more formal attire he wore
while managing Due South. Most other men in Oban dressed in
whatever they grabbed off the floor each morning, but West never
liked doing what his peers expected. The little touches of
professionalism made her think of the proud sixteen-year-old boy
who wouldn’t let anyone see how much he suffered when his family
imploded.

“
Right. It was just after Mum and
Del left.” His tone remained light, as if his mother running off
with her American lover and taking his brother to live in L.A.
wasn’t important.

“
I wanted to cheer you up. Because
nothing anyone said would make you smile.”

West dropped a teabag in each mug
and snared her gaze. This time his eyes weren’t the brittle shade
of blue sea coral, but smoky blue and hooded. “You always knew how
to make me smile.”

She ducked her head. “By being a
pain in your ass, and not leaving you alone to mope.”

“
Yep.” He turned away to fill the
mugs with boiling water and the moment was lost.

Piper sat at the table, rested her
chin on the heel of her palm. “Do you still hear from your
mum?”

The teaspoon clinked against china
as West brewed the tea. The broad lines of his back shifted under
his shirt as tension braced his shoulder blades. “I didn’t speak to
her for five years after she left.” He barked a short, harsh laugh.
“I figured if I refused to talk to her on the phone, she’d come
back to us. Didn’t work. She married Lionel, and had a new
stepdaughter to cope with.”

He dumped tea bags into the sink.
“Anyway. She did come back to Oban for a few days for my
twenty-first—ambushed me. Now she calls a couple of times a year on
my birthday and at Christmas. She talks, I listen. I know she and
Glenna still keep in touch.”