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332 pages, ebook
First published December 18, 2013
Just keep it above neck level, say what you need to say, and get out.
She cleared her throat. “That was a crappy way to talk to your mother. You made her cry.”
West pulled his head out of the spray and scrubbed water off his face. “The woman cries at a drop of a hat. It goes with her artistic temperament.”
Then he turned.
Holy guacamole. Piper nearly wrenched the doorknob off the door. Her brain must’ve missed the memo to keep her eyes above West’s neck because, hello—nicely shaped pecs, washboard flat abs, corded thigh muscles…and then her gaze skipped straight back up to his, er, expanding interest.
“True, buhht…” Her tongue unfurled to her knees when West rubbed a bar of soap over his chest, never taking his direct, blue gaze from her.
“So you barged in here to tell me I was rude to my mother?” Water sprayed over his shoulder, running down his body. His soapy hand slid from pecs to the trail of dark hair low on his belly. A happy, happy trail indeed.
“Well, I…” She licked dry lips, looked at anything other than where his hand headed, and found her mud-flecked, crimson-cheeked reflection instead.
So much for West’s awkwardness at being butt naked—she was the one exposed and vulnerable. Her excuses for being there suddenly seemed lame. Under the circumstances maybe his reaction to Claire was understandable, and though she told his mother she’d talk to him, nothing was so important the conversation couldn’t wait until after West had finished being all wet and hot and naked.
The creak of the shower door made her jump.
“Piper?” His voice, low and loaded with seduction, blazed through her.
West left the shower, water cascading off him and onto the tiled floor. She averted her gaze and turned her back, yanking on the doorknob again. It slipped through her damp fingers.
“Is this really about my mother or did you barge in here for something else?”
She should’ve hated Kezia on sight for being everything she would never be—petite, feminine and sweet.
Then Kezia spoke, her voice slightly accented and with a natural soft rasp that would drive men wild. “If you need an accomplice to kick someone’s boy-bits, I’m your girl.”
Not so sweet. So maybe she could forgive her for being small, and curvy, and with a voice of a phone sex worker. “Got anyone in mind?”
“Whoever made you look like you wanted to spit nails when you walked in, cara.”
“That would be Shaye’s boss. So I’ll have to take a rain check.”
“Ah, well. It’d be a shame to damage someone so pretty.” Kezia pursed her lips thoughtfully. “We could hold him down while you muss up his hair.”
“That’d teach him,” said Shaye.
West pulled off his mask and checked his dive watch. Seven fifteen. He could spare a few more minutes in the pool before he needed to grab breakfast and head into Due South.
“Ford?” His friend looked up from his Kindle and turned the device off.
“Uh-huh?”
“You’re a useless safety buddy, you know. I could’ve suffered a shallow water black out and you never would’ve noticed.”
Ford tossed his trademark black dreadlocks over his shoulder and stood up from one of the spectator seats. “You pay peanuts, you get a bored monkey. And I would’ve noticed and gone all Baywatch on you.”
“That’s an unpleasant image. I’m just going to swim another couple of laps—you can head off now and go back to Star Trek or whatever trash you’re reading.”
“It’s Isaac Asimov, you pleb.” Ford tucked the Kindle under his arm and sauntered to the pool door, his flip flops slapping on the wet concrete. “Don’t drown—unless your dad knows you owe me another meal on the house.”