Fevered Nights. Jillian Burns

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 in her hand. “I’m going to be in town until next weekend. Maybe we could see each other again.” Clasping her slender shoulders, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, then walked away.

      A half hour later, he claimed a stool next to Clay at the Bay City Bar and Grill.

      Clay smirked. “What are you doing here?”

      Neil shrugged, motioning to the bartender for a beer. “Beats me.”

      “Unbelievable.” Clay shook his head. “Only Straight Arrow Barrow would strike out with a sure thing like Piper.”

      “Uh, Bellamy. Why are you sitting here?”

      “Hey, I haven’t even started yet.” Clay chuckled. “Women.”

      The bartender handed him a brown longneck and Neil clinked his bottle with Clay’s. “Ain’t that the truth?” He took a sip, playing back the evening in his mind.

      A sure thing? He didn’t think so.

      Maybe Piper had suddenly become exhausted in the cab. But he doubted it. She’d barely touched her wine, and she’d downright panicked at the suggestion of the nightclub. Only two conclusions could be drawn. Either Piper’s antics as a bad girl were purposefully exaggerated—by her publicity team or by the press—or her behavior had undergone a dramatic change. Which was it?

      It surprised him how badly he wanted to find out.

3

      GO TIME!

       Adrenaline pumping, Neil jumped from the helo and fast roped down to the deck of the enemy ship. Pulling his MP-5 over his shoulder, he scanned the area while the rest of his platoon scrambled down. Once everyone landed, they headed below to secure the crew.

       Neil darted right, while Deep-dish took the left. Weapon ready, Neil opened the first cabin door and stepped onto...

       A white sandy beach. A cool breeze brushed through green palm fronds, and a salty tang hit his nostrils. Seagulls squawked and the surf crashed onto shore. He studied the coastline and spied Piper in the waves, modeling in a hot pink string bikini. She saw him and smiled seductively, wiggling her fingers in greeting.

       As if he were watching a film on fast-forward, the tide raced in and the sun set seemingly into the ocean. When the pace slowed to normal, the cameras and her photographer had disappeared. He was alone with Piper and she was in his arms, pressing her lips to his neck. She called his name and let out a soft sigh. Then his mouth was on hers, giving and taking, until she pulled away, laughing, and ran down to the water’s edge. He gave chase.

       Catching up to her, he grabbed her around the waist and they fell into the surf, tumbling over each other as they kissed madly. Instantly, he was alone again, lying in the hot desert sand, his arms empty. He looked off to the distance and Iraqi oil fires burned, sending up plumes of black smoke that smothered the sky.

      With a groan, Neil woke up, tense, hard and pulsing. He rolled to his back and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. What a dream. Maybe he shouldn’t have checked online about Piper before he turned in.

      He’d gone down a Piper rabbit hole last night. She was everywhere, he’d discovered, modeling clothes, makeup and jewelry. She’d made the cover of most major magazines and he could see why. The camera loved the exotic quality about her that he’d witnessed firsthand. And those pictures of her in fancy lingerie had literally haunted his dreams.

      He threw back the covers and jumped out of the comfortable hotel bed, slipped on his shorts and T-shirt and headed down to the beach. The sun was just peeking above the horizon and the dawn sky was turning the clouds neon orange. His favorite time of day.

      Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings, looking for anything out of place. But the beach was mostly deserted. Only two other runners were anywhere close as he hit the sand at a fast jog toward the hotel where he’d dropped Piper off. Yeah, he knew it was a long shot. But a man made his own luck.

      Neil couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to see her again. He was a simple man. He’d strived for a simple life. Piper was complication personified. And he’d had enough complications lately dealing with the fallout from his disastrous marriage.

      That was two failed relationships now: first Alexandra—or Alex—and second Lyndsey. He had to conclude that he was doing something wrong. Some flaw in him he couldn’t see. One that involved choosing the wrong mate.

      Every SEAL knew the divorce rate in their line of work was higher than average, but he thought he’d chosen carefully when he’d proposed to his childhood friend, literally the girl next door. Clay had warned him about Lyndsey, but then, Clay had vowed never to marry.

      Neil scoffed at this train of thought. As if he would, or even could marry a lingerie model. As if she would be interested in a beat-up special-ops guy when she could have any man on the planet. He thought about last night, when she’d sat across from him, asking him about BUD/S. She’d seemed