emotions
—anger, frustration, worry and concern heading the list—but pity wasn’t one of them. Her strength defied
feeling sorry for her because she’d already picked herself up and forged ahead.
She wore another business-casual number today: a hot-pink shirtdress that—once again—stopped well
north of her knees. The neck was unbuttoned low enough to reveal a chunky necklace, some kind of
beaded flower thing studded with sparkling stones. He was 100 percent certain he’d never seen a flower like
that in nature.
She didn’t look back at him after she delivered her ultimatum, just sashayed down the hall, away from
him, leaving him to admire the sassy hitch to her walk. She’d never asked for pity or even a break. After
the accident and their uncomfortable meet and greet in her hospital room, he’d given her some space
because it seemed like the whole world had been all over her, wanting to know how she felt about losing
her berth on the national diving team. Piper had been born to compete, and she hadn’t even had the chance.
Lance’s criminal decision to drink and drive had guaranteed that, and the brief prison sentence the man had
earned couldn’t possibly begin to atone for what she’d lost.
The trash talking and competitiveness covered up something else.
He followed her into the room. Part of him actually wanted her to win, which was stupid because he
needed the cruise line’s business if he wanted to expand Deep Dive’s offerings and bring more veterans on
board to help out. Piper, however, clearly didn’t feel like throwing the contest in his favor. He didn’t think it
was the chemistry they had between them that made him feel like handing her the win. He hoped.
Ten minutes later, he wasn’t sure what to think. He stared at Sal Britten, who’d just delivered his bad
news as though it was some kind of trophy.
“So,” the man concluded, “We’re not sure which direction we want to go in. You’re both equally strong
candidates, and to be honest, the competition came down to you two. The other applicants weren’t even
close. One of you is earning the contract, but we’re not ready to make a decision today.”
Translation: the guy couldn’t make up his mind.
Cal hated indecisiveness. From the way Piper practically vibrated on her chair beside him, for once she
was in agreement with him.
“We’ll have a second round of competition,” Sal continued, oblivious to the tension in the room, “with
just the two of you competing. We’re asking you to pick two dives from your sample programs, something
new and innovative our cruisers won’t have done before. Then you’ll take us out, walk us through them.
Since you’ll be leading the program, we’d like to see how you work in the field and how well you can bring
another dive master up to speed, as sometimes one of the ship’s dive masters may be accompanying you.
We’ll do a morning dive, followed by a surface interval and then we’ll finish off in the afternoon.”
Hell. Cal had one week to wrestle through his unreasonable reaction to submerging, and that was if he
and Piper could actually work together without killing each other. He wanted to believe his diving was
possible—he wasn’t stupid enough to bet they could cooperate—but...yeah. He could guess the odds. Piper
had won and she didn’t even know it. He slid a sidewise glance at her.
She blinked, the only sign she hadn’t been expecting the news other than that betraying twitch in her
seat. She was good.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” She sounded calm. Collected. This was going to be prime. “You
want us to make a second pitch. In the water. And you want us to work together.”
The cruise ship guy beamed. “Exactly. We can see for ourselves exactly how you’d lead a group. It’s
perfect.”
She narrowed her eyes. “But nobody wins the contract today.”
Sal nodded happily, as if he expected Piper to agree
Lightnin' Hopkins: His Life, Blues