While he worked out in the hotel gym, she took in the ocean view through the massive wall of bedroom windows and changed from her travel clothes into one of the outfits she’d picked up in a rush shopping trip. They were meeting some of his former teammates for dinner, an invitation she’d tried to get out of.
“I’m only pretending to be your girlfriend when we’re on the yacht tomorrow,” she’d reminded him. “Tonight you’ll be with your old teammates. You don’t need a fake girlfriend.”
For some reason, that had irritated him. “You’re a little more than a fake. We’re sleeping together.”
“A technicality.”
“You’re going with me,” he’d retorted.
She came out of the suite’s luxury bathroom as Coop returned from the gym. The guilt that had been dogging her once again nipped at her heels. If she hadn’t talked him into helping Faiza escape, he wouldn’t be in this situation.
He stopped inside the door of the suite and stared at her. “Where the hell did you get that?”
She gazed down at her short hot-pink A-line jersey dress. “What’s wrong with it?” The spaghetti straps that crossed in the back hadn’t come undone, and the stack of silver bangles encircled her wrist in the proper place. She’d put on makeup and traded the sneakers she’d worn on the plane for barely-there sandals. She’d even pieced out her hair with what was left of an old jar of hair gel. So what if she’d bought her dress at H &M instead of one of his ridiculously overpriced boutiques?
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he said, circling her. “That’s why the world as I know it has come to an end. You look female.”
He was in rare form for a man willing to put his life in danger by meeting up with a powerful prince who could be holding a big grudge, but every time she tried to apologize for getting him into such a dangerous situation, he became more annoyed, so she gave him the once-over instead. “More than anyone, you should know I look very female.”
“Not with your clothes on. At least not most of the time.”
She appreciated his insight. “I know how to put clothes together, the same way I know how to cook. I just prefer not to.”
“Thanks to Duke Dove.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Out of curiosity, did he ever mention that you’re pretty?”
“Why would he?” She didn’t like the way he was studying her, as if he saw something she couldn’t. “I have to look at least a little like I could be one of your playmates. It’s a stretch, I know, but-”
“Not that much of a stretch.”
The conversation was making her jittery. “These are strictly work clothes, and I expensed everything, so it’s all yours when the job’s done. Except for my sandals. And the bracelets are from an old boyfriend who didn’t know me nearly well enough.”
“Obviously not.” He sniffed the air as if he’d smelled something odious. “Are you wearing perfume?”
“Magazine sample.”
“Leave it between the pages. You smell great without it.”
And so did he, even after his workout. Male sweat on a clean body. She wanted to strip that sweaty T-shirt right off him and drag him into the bedroom.
He looked thoughtful. “If I own that dress, that means I can rip it off you anytime I want, right?”
“I suppose so. Although I’d appreciate it if you’d wait until the job is over.”
“That,” he said, “is going to be hard.”
She dipped her gaze. “So I see.”
He smiled, but the guilt she was carrying dampened her own amusement. She should have come up with a way to help Faiza without involving him.
His irritation returned. “Stop it, Pipe. You didn’t make me do anything I wasn’t willing to do.”
“I know that,” she said, way too vehemently.
He arched a brow at her, reading her mind in a way no one else had ever been able to.
She picked up his cell. “One of the prince’s people called while you were gone. About a launch to take us out to his yacht tomorrow.”
He stripped off his T-shirt. “Unacceptable. There’s no way I’m letting that jerk control when we get on and off that boat.”
“Exactly. I’ve already hired our own launch.”
“Of course you have.” He lifted her off the floor so her sandaled toes dangled over the top of his sneakers. His long, deep kiss destroyed most of her makeup, and her hot-pink dress soon landed in a puddle on the floor. He wanted to take her into the shower, but she dragged him into the bedroom instead.
They made love-no, not love. And-although she wasn’t averse to using the well-placed F-word-what they were doing wasn’t that either. Instead, they… had sex-lots of sex-in a bed with a sweeping ocean view that transformed the room into an aerie over the sea. She wanted to stay naked for the rest of the night. Apparently, he did, too, because she had to kick him out of bed.
If his teammates were surprised to see Coop with a woman who’d never been on TMZ, they didn’t show it. He openly introduced her as an investigator he’d met when he’d hired her to look into employee misconduct.
It was an entertaining group. She was comfortable with men like this, and the women, who were openly curious about her, made an effort to draw her into their conversations. Since most of them were mothers, the talk centered on their children, but Piper enjoyed seeing the cute kid photos on their cells. At the same time, she was more than grateful that she didn’t have any photos of her own to pass around. When maternal genes had been distributed, she’d been hanging out at the bar.
Coop touched her frequently, looping his arm around her shoulders, touching her earlobe. She liked it too much. It made her wonder… when this affair ended, was maintaining their friendship completely outside the realm of possibility? Maybe they could meet up for Mexican food sometime or catch a Blackhawks game. She knew she’d miss the best sex she’d ever had, but what if she missed the friendship even more?
Too depressing to think about.
The launch she’d hired picked them up the next afternoon and took them out to the prince’s yacht. With four decks, a helipad, and a Darth Vader-black hull, it was an ocean-bound fortress, and the closer they got, the more nervous she became. Coop, however, was hard-eyed and focused. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
A steward, who introduced himself as Malik, greeted them with cardamom-scented coffee and dates. “Let me show you to your stateroom. You can change into swimwear there, if you’d like. His Highness will arrive soon.”
On the way to their stateroom on the second deck, Malik pointed out the direction to the pool, movie theater, and gym where, he assured them, guests would find a complete array of shoes and workout clothes. As they passed through the main salon, he indicated the grand staircase that eventually led to the owner’s private quarters on the top deck and also mentioned the saunas, hair salon, and massage room.
Their stateroom had picture windows looking out at the sea and enough gilt for a cathedral. “Even you’re not rich enough to buy one of these little boats,” she said with undisguised glee. And then, “Are you?”
“Hard to say.” He looked around with distaste. “It’s fine for a couple of days, but I like dirt under my feet.”
“And coming out of your mouth.”
Their bedroom romp had been a deliciously erotic verbal smut fest, and he grazed his knuckles over the top of her breast.
After she’d changed into her suit, she wrapped a zebra-striped scarf she’d retrieved from her bag of disguises around her waist. His gaze moved from everything she hadn’t covered up to the bright yellow tote she wasn’t letting out of her sight. “What all do you have in there?” he asked suspiciously.