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 hope to show itself. Clay was right. Neil had been living like a monk the past six months.
But Neil had pretty much written off the possibility of anything happening with Piper once dinner had started and they’d talked. In some ways, it’d felt like confiding in a close friend. He’d never told anyone about finding his uncle’s letters before. Not Lyndsey, not even Clay. Yet he’d also made a couple of colossal blunders.
“Sure. Where’re you staying?”
“The Saint-Tropez, please.” She answered him and addressed the cabbie at the same time.
The woman was a grenade of contradictions. Her face was a mask of coldness. But her hand trembled. She projected an air of confidence. But she had moments where she seemed unsure of herself and her place in the world. Like now.
She kept her body away from his, leaning toward the opposite window. Though her hand was splayed across the seat and her fingers touched the side of his thigh. She was driving him crazy. He was completely clueless about what she wanted. He’d have to wing it.
Luckily, SEALs were trained to think on their feet.
In no time they pulled up to the Saint-Tropez. Neil paid the cab driver and exited, reaching back to lend Piper his hand. As she stepped elegantly out of the taxi, she was instantly swarmed by clamoring paparazzi. As lightbulbs flashed from all sides, she stiffened. Instinctively, Neil slid a protective arm around her shoulders and pressed her close. But she pulled away and gave a brilliant smile. The crowd shouted her name and stuck cell phones and cameras in her face. Piper posed and looked in the direction her name was called.
Setting his jaw, he shoved through the reporters and propelled her forward, forcing his way through the mob until suddenly they were in the quiet of the hotel lobby.
A few people with cell phones were snapping pictures. He glared at them until they wandered away, then, arm still around her shoulders, he guided her to a secluded sitting area.
Her body was tucked into his, her soft curves flattening against his side. She turned, placed her hands on his chest and looked up. He’d never seen eyes that color. So light a green they were almost silver. And her lips were full and lush. As her lips parted, he caught his breath, lowering his head to kiss her.
At the last second she shifted away, offering her right hand. “Nice to meet you, Neil. Thanks for dinner.”
Before he could blink she was heading for the elevators, leaving him alone and...lonely?
“Hey.” He bolted after her.
She turned and raised a brow, her face the same mask of coldness it had been earlier.
“Can I see your phone a sec?”
She hesitated, but then retrieved it from her minuscule handbag and held it out.
Neil took it, punched in his cell number and placed it back
