In Too Deep (17 page)

They grinned at each
other.

God, his real smile, the genuine
one she rarely got, made Piper want to lap him up like melted
chocolate—the decadently expensive kind.

And he was out there now
entertaining the three couples with his irresistible bartender
charm.

“
Salad greens, check. Peppers,
check.” Glancing down at her to-do list, Piper poked a finger at
her sister’s scrawl. “Cherry tomatoes.” She yanked open the fridge
and removed a small bowl. “Check. I’ve so got this.”

“
Got what?”

She spun back at the sound of
West’s voice. He carried a tray of glasses and set it on the outer
counter of the galley, wisely staying out of her little triangle of
space between the stove, sink, and fridge.

“
Got everything under control.”
Piper blinked. “Refills already?” He nodded, and transferred the
empty glasses to the counter top, along with the empty starter
platter. “Wow. That was fast.”

“
They’re hungry, happy, and
starting to get horny.”

Super. Nice to know that a group
of fifty-somethings were getting in the mood for sex later that
evening, while she would pass an uncomfortable eight hours on a
narrow bunk in a tiny cabin with West. And definitely
not
having sex.

“
Lucky Bluff oysters aren’t in
season,” she muttered and returned to the chopping board, swiping
the back of her hand across her forehead.

Was it just her, or had the
kitchen become way too hot?

“
They don’t need an aphrodisiac,
that’s for sure. But I didn’t take you for a prude.”

He risked her wrath by moving
around the counter and into her space, bending down to take out
fresh wine glasses from the cabinet near her knees. His tee shirt
rode up, baring a strip of tanned skin on his lower
back.

What had she been thinking about
yumminess? Would his skin be hot to the touch or cool from the
brief swim he’d taken before cocktail hour? Would the scent of sea
and salt and male pheromones transfer to her fingertips if she
traced the bumps of his vertebrae?

Adjusting her grip on the knife,
Piper studied the two avocados beside the board. Chopping a finger
off while ogling a man she shouldn’t be ogling wouldn’t be a good
look. She rolled her shoulders and instructed her pulse to drop the
hyper act and return to normal.

“
I had any prudishness stomped out
of me after I started at police training college.” She kept her
voice breezy as she picked up an avocado and ran the blade around
it lengthwise. “Men have dirty minds, male cops even more
so.”

“
Intimidating for an
eighteen-year-old.” He placed another set of wine glasses on the
counter and straightened.

“
I was hardly an innocent,” she
said, and then realizing how it could be interpreted, tacked on, “I
hung around with my big brother and his smut-brained
friends.”

West shook his head and moved to
the fridge, his glutes flexing under his thin board shorts.
Oh,
for Pete’s sake.
Piper wrested the avocado halves open with a
silent snarl and used a spoon to pry out the pit.

“
We didn’t always have smut on our
minds.” He selected another bottle of white wine and returned to
the other side of the counter.

“
No, there was fishing, diving,
bikes, rugby, beer, and how to get more beer. That about covers the
things you and the other guys gabbed about.”

“
Eavesdrop much?”

“
All the time.”

West’s rough chuckle fired another
bolt of some female chemical, designed solely to turn her on,
straight to every damn erogenous zone.

“
What else did you hear?” He
peeled the foil off the wine bottle and looked at her expectantly,
nothing but warm humor in his clear blue eyes.

Against her will, she found
herself smiling back. “I heard about your bet with Ben that you
could cop a feel of Lisa Cameron’s boobs.”

“
Did you, now?” That earned her
another sexy laugh. “I was fifteen and it was my first spectacular
blow-out with a girl. She slapped my face.”

Piper snorted. “I would’ve punched
your lights out.” She sliced the avocado into quarters. “And you’ve
got me to thank for that slap—I told Lisa what you were up
to.”

West’s eyes crinkled and he gusted
out a full belly laugh. Gripping the edge of the counter he leaned
forward until his face was only a foot away from hers. “You’ve got
a mean streak, Piper. That slap cost me days of groveling to get
back in Lisa’s good books, and I never did get to touch her boobs.”
He paused, tilted his head, and deliberately directed his attention
down to where her breasts pressed against her shirt. “So you owe me
a feel of
your
boobs to make up for it.”

Red alert. Red alert.
Her
next inhale stopped halfway down her lungs and her nipples budded
into two hard points of
Ohmigod-yes-please
. She raised the
tip of her chef’s knife and pointed it at his nose. “Keep your
hands to yourself, Westlake.”

His gaze flared hot. “What if I
don’t want to?” He took two slow steps sideways, two steps closer
to her. “What if I’m tired of playing your game of ‘there’s nothing
going on here.’”

The knife in her hand swiveled to
follow his cat-like movements. “I don’t play games. And FYI there
is
nothing going on here. Nothing I’m interested in
pursuing, anyway.”

Another step and he rounded the
corner, crowding her backward until her butt hit the counter. He
rescued the knife from her shaking fingers, laid it on the chopping
board, and left his hand resting there, effectively trapping
her.

“
Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he
murmured.

She shoved a hand against West’s
chest to stop him coming closer, but all that achieved was runaway
tingles up her arm from the hard, hot muscles beneath his shirt. He
leaned into her fingers and the rapid bump of his heartbeat
throbbed against her palm. Close enough to see her own reflection
in West’s eyes, she froze when his pupils shrunk to tiny
dots.

His nose twitched. “Something’s
burning.”

Yeah, something was burning, all
right. One more touch, one more second of him looking like he
planned to do her on the kitchen counter and she would either catch
fire or do something absurd like kiss him again.

“
West.” Hating the breathy quality
in her voice, Piper sucked in a lungful of smoke-tainted air.
Smoke-tainted?
What the—?

She followed West’s gaze to where
a thin ribbon of steam mixed with smoke seeped out of the oven
door. Shaye’s carefully prepared meal was in that oven reheating.
And now smoking.

The galley’s smoke detector found
its voice and screeched with gusto.

“
The fish!” and then a second
afterward she spotted the froth boiling over the pan on the stove,
followed closely by a hiss and sputter as the lemon dill cream
sauce sizzled down the sides and hit the element. “Oh, crap! The
sauce!”

While she momentarily froze, West
turned the stove off, shoved both hands into protective mitts, and
yanked the pan from the oven. Steam, smoke and the stench of
incinerated fish belched into the kitchen. The smoke detector
continued at an even higher decibel to broadcast her cock-up to the
world.

The galley door flung open and
husband number three poked his face inside. “Everything okay in
here?” He took one look at her stricken face and added, “Dang, is
that our dinner?”

Yep, that was their dinner.
Ruined. Absolutely annihilated.

West strode toward husband number
three and the open door, trailing a plume of grey smoke behind him.
Piper followed him, groaning as West chucked their guests’ baked
blue cod with skinny carrot thingies and spinach
overboard.

With her luck? The Department of
Conservation would have her up for poisoning the sea life. And
then, Shaye would murder her for obliterating one of her culinary
masterpieces.

Chapter 9

Piper silently
recited every foul word in her vocabulary, which thanks to nine
years on the police force formed a substantial list.

How the hell would she fix
this?

She couldn’t offer green salad and
cheese and crackers to guests who expected a luxurious three course
meal. Fortunately, she hadn’t destroyed the white chocolate mousse
cooling in the fridge. Give her time, though, give her
time…

“
Oh, dear, what happened?” Wife
number one appeared at her side, accompanied by her
husband.

Piper massaged her temples and
forced her lips to curl into a wry smile. “I had some trouble with
my sister’s reheating instructions. I’m afraid she’s the domestic
goddess in our family, not me.”

Husband number one patted her
shoulder. “My Janet’s much the same, aren’t you, love? Sticks to
the ‘keep-it-simple-stupid’ philosophy or else everything turns to
charcoal.”

Janet slipped him a look that
should’ve flash-fried his nuts to charcoal, while Piper debated
rifling through The Mollymawk’s cabinets in case she’d skipped over
another gourmet meal in her haste. The couple moved away to watch
the gannets circling overhead. She didn’t like the birds’ chances
of a tasty snack if they were eyeing up Shaye’s fish.

Husband number three wandered over
with his refilled wine glass. “What’s plan B then, ay? I’m
starving.”

Good to know he had his priorities
straight. Would it be rude to snatch the glass out of his hand and
gulp the rest herself?

“
Plan B? Well…” Piper angled a
sidelong glance at West who’d just finished scraping the crusty
black remains out of the oven pan.

“
How does fresh lobster and paua
fritters cooked over a fire on the beach grab you?” West
said.

“
Brilliant.” Husband number three
wrapped an arm around his wife.

“
We’ll head a couple of beaches
over to Kahurangi Bay where there’s a good spot to catch lobsters.
We’ll take the dinghy and drop you off on the beach. The six of you
can collect driftwood for the fire while Piper and I dive for
seafood.”

“
Oooh a beach party, how
wonderful! I love beach parties!” Wife number three’s enthusiasm
infected the others and the couples started chattering amongst
themselves.

Piper grabbed West’s arm and
tugged him inside the galley.

“
What? You don’t like my idea?” he
said as Piper shut the connecting door and leaned against
it.

She shook her head. “It’s great,
thanks, but there’s not enough air left in any of the couples’
tanks for you to dive.”

West continued through the small
dining area into the galley and dumped the pan into the sink. “I
won’t be using a tank. You can, but I don’t need to.”

“
Oh.” She folded her arms and
worried her bottom lip with her eye tooth. “You’re going to
free-dive.”

“
Why don’t you call it
‘spear-fishing’ since the word free-dive pushes your buttons?
Kahurangi’s shallow with good visibility and we’ve both dived there
many times.”

None of which eased the knot of
tension behind her breastbone. “You want me to be your buddy.” She
couldn’t keep the flatness from her tone.

His eyebrow kicked up. “Don’t dive
alone, right?”

Rubbing at the tight spot did
little to ease it when she thought of being West’s buddy. “Right.
Okay, let’s go, then.”

Thirty minutes later she and West
trod water beside the anchored dinghy, while laughter from the
beach drifted across the gentle swell of the bay. Suited up in
wetsuits, fins, and masks, the neoprene couldn’t keep the chill of
the water from penetrating deep inside her.

Or maybe being West’s safety diver
brought on the ache that made her cold right down to the marrow.
Because buddy was just another name for responsibility and he’d
neatly maneuvered her into it while he “spear-fished.” A
responsibility she didn’t want.

Piper had already collected half a
dozen large-shelled paua while West snorkeled above, keeping her in
his sights. She unhooked the mesh catch bag around her waist and
dumped the molluscs into the dinghy.

“
My turn.” West pulled his mask
into place again.

The words “be careful” were on the
tip of her tongue but she gulped them back. She wouldn’t give him
the power of her worries.

You’re okay. This is not the same
situation as with Dad. The water’s only thirty feet deep here at
most. It’ll be fine—he’ll be fine.

Lots of self-talk that didn’t slow
her racing heart or the adrenaline slamming through her.

She nodded and popped in her
regulator, not trusting herself to speak. West rolled onto his back
and sucked in air, gulping like a fish to pack more into his lungs.
Then with a smooth twisting movement he slipped under, barely
rippling the surface.

Piper followed him down, bubbles
trailing behind her. He moved through the water like one of the
tiny fish who swirled around him in silvery shoals—effortless, at
home. She kept her distance as he glided through the kelp forest to
the rocky seabed. West’s dive light flickered into cracks and
crevices. His hand darted into a gap and emerged with a decent
sized lobster, its legs flailing.