He glanced across the stadium’s executive viewing suite at Piper. She managed to look both cute and sexy in a loopy orange sweater and a pair of jeans that actually fit. Her predictable dark tousle of a hairstyle wouldn’t work on another woman but somehow fit her perfectly. Pipe was the least needy female he’d ever been involved with, and their relationship was working out even better than he’d hoped.
He’d invited her to come with him right after they’d returned from last night’s confrontation with Keith. She’d launched into a predictable refusal—they weren’t dating, and this sounded like a date—then immediately reversed herself and accepted. He knew why. She wanted to keep him in her sights. Totally maddening and completely unnecessary. He’d nearly withdrawn the invitation, but then he hadn’t. He respected perseverance, no matter how misguided.
When he’d picked her up, she’d dropped a bombshell on him. A flood of online complaints about Spiral had popped up, complaints about everything from rude serving staff to dirty glasses to bad music—none of which was true. The reviews looked as though they’d been planted, and she’d already started the process of trying to get them taken down, but she’d warned him it would take time.
He was furious, and not even her reminder that she had years of experience handling problems like this had mollified him. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t. He had a new life, and failure wasn’t an option.
Deidre stepped away from the group she’d been talking to and caught his eye. He hoped like hell she hadn’t caught wind of the bad reviews. Forcing a smile, he went over to join her.
***
Piper gazed out onto the soccer field from the sweeping windows of Deidre Joss’s viewing suite, but the action on the field was secondary to the puzzle pieces that refused to fit together in her brain. She didn’t get it. The mugging, the drone, and the tire slashing were active acts. But the online sabotage and the false tip to the INS seemed more cerebral. How did it all come together?
Behind her, she heard Deidre laugh at something Coop was saying. The two of them looked as though they belonged together. Deidre, tall and poised as a ballerina, and Coop, all rangy self-confidence. A pair of good-looking high-achievers completely at home with the luxuries their hard work had brought them. Deidre was obviously taken with Coop, but she wasn’t pushy about it.
“Enjoying the game?” Noah Parks said as he came up beside her.
All afternoon she’d watched him take care of Deidre. He didn’t crowd her, but if Deidre needed a fresh drink, he was there. If she seemed to tire of a conversation, he stepped in to deflect it. Piper could use a Noah Parks in her life.
“It’s not like watching the Bears, but yes, I am,” she said. On the field, the Fire successfully tipped away a shot at the goal. “These are really nice digs.”
“Deidre has a skybox at Soldier Field, too, and one at the Midwest Sports Complex.”
Where the Stars played. “A girl can’t have too many skyboxes.”
He laughed. “She uses them for business entertainment.” He gazed through the glass down at the field. “Interesting that you’ve become part of Coop’s inner circle, considering the way you two started out.”
He was probably fishing for information, but he wasn’t getting anything from her. “He’s bored, and I’m a novelty.”
The Fire scored their first goal, and she excused herself to get a hot dog from the buffet.
Everybody in the suite wanted to talk to Coop, and it wasn’t until the second half that he approached her. “I just learned that Deidre Joss is the person who hired you to follow me.”
Piper straightened. “Why do you think that?”
“Because she told me.”
“Really?” She’d spoken too loudly, and some of the people in the skybox turned to stare, but Piper was outraged. After swearing Piper to secrecy and nearly destroying her career in the process, Deidre Joss had just blurted it out to Mr. Golden Eyes?
It was a good thing her cell vibrated right then. She pulled it out of her jeans pocket and glanced at the screen. Why was Tony calling her?
“Coop turned off his phone again,” Tony said when she answered. “Is he with you?”
“Yes. You want to talk to him?”
“No. Tell him we’ve got a big problem, and he needs to get over here right away.”
***
The kitchen was infested with cockroaches. Coop had never seen so many. Hundreds of them scattered from the light he’d just turned on. They scampered across the floor, the counters, along the stovetop. A pale-faced Tony was huddled in the hallway, right outside the door. “An exterminator’s on his way. We’re going to have to close down for at least a week.”
Wonder Woman took one look at the insect bedlam and headed for the hallway, too. “I am so out of here.” She spun back. “If any of those get up in my apartment, you’re a dead man.”
***
Coop barged into her apartment a few hours later. She was sitting on her couch, curled over her laptop. The exterminator was already at work downstairs, but Tony had been right. They’d be closed at least a week. Exactly seven days too long.
“You’d better have shaken out your clothes before you came in here,” she said.
He stalked across the room. “You’re one hell of a bodyguard.”
“I’m not your bodyguard, remember? And I’ve been doing what I had to do.”
“Hiding from a few bugs?”
She shuddered. “I’m not proud of myself.”
There it was again. That refusal to defend herself over anything she perceived as a personal weakness.
“I’ve been doing some research,” she said as he started to pace. “You can buy cockroaches by the hundreds on the Internet. Did you know their severed heads can survive if they’re refrigerated? Only for a few hours, but still.”
“I didn’t know that. And I wish I didn’t know it now.”
“I’ll start tracking down dealers tomorrow, but finding out who placed the order is a long shot. They even sell them on Amazon.”
But his mind wasn’t on Amazon, and neither was hers. “With Keith out of the picture,” she said, “we both know who the next most logical suspect is.”
He didn’t ask who she meant. He knew.
She closed the lid on her laptop, stared at it for a moment, then rubbed her eyes. “He’s in Miami.”
16
South Beach was a twenty-four-hour carnival of swaying palms; Latin rock music; Easter-egg-colored art deco buildings; and shapely, long-haired women strolling along Ocean Drive with hoop earrings the size of bracelets and colorful thongs showing through tight white shorts. She and Coop arrived early the next afternoon at the Setai hotel, a Collins Avenue sepulcher serving the very wealthy, where Coop had booked a suite with a nightly room rate that could have bought her a set of tires and a new laptop.
Prince Aamuzhir had left London three days earlier for Miami and his five-hundred-foot yacht. Piper had wanted to go see him alone, but Coop had loudly vetoed the idea, pointing out that she couldn’t get to Aamuzhir without him. She’d attempted to dissuade him, but he wasn’t a man to hide from his enemies, and she couldn’t put her heart into it.
Coop had no trouble wrangling an invitation to the yacht, and exactly one month from the day he’d caught her spying on him at the club, they were back in his old stomping grounds. Everyone from the skycaps to the food truck vendors selling empanadas greeted him as a returning hero. She did her best to stay in the background and was disheartened to realize that some part of her wanted to tell the world he was her lover.
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.
“The latest issue of Cosmo and an eyelash curler—what do you think?”
He gave her his deadeye look. “I think you’d better keep your cool.”
“You worry about yourself.”
“If only it were that simple,” he muttered.
They headed down one deck to the pool. Half a dozen pristine sail-shaped canopies protected the white couches and cushy chaises from the sun. Tables held platters of tropical fruit, cheeses, flatbreads, roasted nuts, and exotic-looking dips, while the full-length bar displayed every variety of liquor forbidden in the Realm. Malik appeared to see what they would like to drink. Coop ordered a beer, but Piper opted for iced tea.
Coop looked disgustingly amazing in dark green board shorts that turned his eyes into pirate’s doubloons. As he headed toward the pool, he tossed aside his T-shirt, revealing the chest she adored, not only for its impressive muscles, but also for its sprinkling of hair—just enough so he looked like a real man instead of an oiled-up male centerfold.
She regarded him enviously as he performed a semigraceful dive off the board. Her new black swimsuit was technically a one-piece, but with two diagonal cutouts—one a big sideways V under the bandeau top, and the other above the low bottom—it didn’t feel dependable enough to risk a dive. She’d have preferred something more functional, but she couldn’t imagine any of Coop’s girlfriends worrying about practicality. And that’s what she was passing herself off as. One of Coop’s girlfriends.
Uneasiness crept along the pit of her stomach. Being a girlfriend implied a relationship, with maybe some kind of potential. But that wasn’t how they were. She was his sex partner, his investigator, his bodyguard, whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. A bogus girlfriend.
Coop hauled himself back up on the pool deck, rivulets of water running down every taut muscle. She wanted to lick him. Instead, she slipped her sunglasses to the top of her head and curled her lip. “That dive was a six-point-three at best.”
“Let’s see you do better.”
That’s the way it was between them. Challenges and competition. Neither willing to give the other an inch.
A helicopter buzzed overhead. Soon, a jet-black Airbus landed on the helipad in the bow.
The prince joined them half an hour later, along with three young—very young—beauties in the most minuscule of string bikinis. The girl-women retired to the couches on the other side of the pool, not speaking to him or to each other.
She’d seen photos of the prince, but his dyed black hair and weird mustache made him even less appetizing in person. A gaudy gold crest decorated the pocket of his white sports shirt, and his navy Bermudas revealed pigeon legs. From twenty feet away, she could smell the overpowering musk of his cologne.