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.

He greeted Coop effusively, which could mean either that he hadn’t yet figured out Coop had dumped a fake ring on him or that he was simply a good actor. Coop slapped him on the back a tad too hard but offset it with a cornpone grin and an Oklahoma drawl. “It sure is good to see you again, Yer Highness. This is a real nice dinghy you got.”

The prince regarded him through creepy glasses tinted at the top but clear at the bottom. “As you can see, it’s no longer new.”

“Sure looks good to me.”

“You could not bring your friends with you?”

“Naw. Robillard’s just had another kid, and Tucker’s off doing something with his wife.” Coop’s derisive tone telegraphed his disgust for any man who’d put a woman’s needs ahead of his own.

“Unforgivable.” And then the prince chuckled. “Tell me, my friend. How did you find that little gift I gave you? Was she as sweet as you hoped?”

It took Coop a moment to understand what he meant, and then his jaw set in a most unpleasant way. She shot forward before he erupted. “Your Highness,” she gushed. “I’m so honored to meet you.” She fingered her zebra-striped sarong in a semicurtsy that would almost surely have amused Coop if he weren’t so pissed off.

The prince addressed her with a degree of arrogance that signaled he was doing her a favor by speaking to her at all. “Madam. I hope you’re finding my ship comfortable.”

“Oh, yes. It’s really, really super awesome.”

He returned his attention to Coop, already forgetting her existence. “Coop, sit with me. Our last visit was too short. Do you remember the Titans game where you fumbled on third-and-four? I was looking at the film, and it’s clear to me what you did wrong.”

Piper wanted to take his head off, but her iron-willed lover had himself back under control, so she went over to join the girl-women.

They were all legs and breasts, lithe and perfect, even without their heavy eye makeup, belly chains, and the elaborate manicures that left their hands as useless as the feet of aristocratic women had once been in China. They didn’t seem interested in talking to each other, but they responded to Piper’s conversational gambits.

Two were from Miami and the third was Puerto Rican. One had recently graduated from high school, another was working on her GED, and the third had dropped out of college freshman year. They hadn’t known each other until three days ago, when one of the prince’s aides had spotted them on the beach and invited them to be the prince’s “guests” for the week, promising them each a thousand dollars a day for their time. All three cast envious gazes toward Coop. She could see their curiosity about how someone who was neither lithe nor perfect had managed to attract his attention.

“We both like sports,” Piper said, as if that explained it.

“I like sports,” the one named Cierra offered wistfully.

“I thought it would be exciting being with a real prince,” the Puerto Rican beauty said, “but it’s kind of boring.”

“He can’t get it up without porn,” the recent high school graduate and only brunette whispered.

Piper didn’t want to hear the details of the odious prince’s sex life, and she decided to test the waters. “Coop seems to like him,” she lied. “He even gave him his Super Bowl ring.”

The recent high school graduate rolled her eyes. “We know. He brags about it.”

“Really?” Did that mean he hadn’t yet discovered it was a fake? Piper pretended to adjust her sunglasses. “He’s not wearing it. I guess it’s too heavy.”

The girl shrugged.

“He’s got small hands,” Cierra said.

“Small everything,” the other blonde said.

They laughed, as worldly wise as the most practiced courtesans.

“He put it on my big toe,” Cierra announced. “Last night.”

“I’ll bet it fit better than on his skinny finger,” the brunette said.

“He told me he’s going to have it sized.” Cierra yawned. “Like I care.”

Piper pretended to adjust her swimsuit straps. So, the Prince didn’t know it wasn’t the real thing. But the jeweler would as soon as he saw it, and he would certainly pass on that information.

The girls had fallen silent again, and Piper tried to sort out her thoughts. If the prince thought the ring was genuine, he couldn’t be the person threatening Coop. But the fake ring was still a ticking time bomb. Coop should have bribed the guy some other way, but no. Coop believed he was invincible.

She rose from the chaise. Wrapping her makeshift sarong around her waist, she wandered over to the men. She took pleasure in interrupting the prince’s lecture on how quarterbacks gave away the play by staring down the pass receiver, a mistake Coop had undoubtedly corrected before he’d left high school.

Coop had his game face on. Just barely. She touched his shoulder. “I’m going to take advantage of the gym. I’ll see you later.”

He regarded her suspiciously, but with lunch being laid in front of him, he couldn’t easily excuse himself to go with her.

As soon as she was out of sight, she bypassed the gym and slipped up the steps. At the top, she ran into a uniformed crew member. She smiled, one more guest exploring the ship. “I can’t believe you get to work here. Everything is so beautiful.”

“Yes, madam.”

“Is there really a nightclub on the ship? That’s so amazing. I’d love to see it.”

“On the third deck. I’ll show you the elevator.”

“Oh, no. I can find it myself. I want to see the salon first. Who knows if I’ll get a chance to visit a ship like this again?”

“As you wish.” He gestured toward the stern.

In the main salon, another crew member was vacuuming the largest Persian rug Piper had ever seen, spoiling any chance Piper had to sneak up the main staircase to the prince’s private quarters on the top deck. The man turned off the vacuum and nodded politely. Piper babbled about how fantastic the ship was, speculated on how much it must have cost, and finally moved toward the elevator. There was no button for the top deck, so she hit the one for the third.

It opened onto a triangular room with a small dance floor, a disco ball, and ocean views. A door on one side of the bar took her into a longer corridor, where she discovered a service door that connected the decks for the crew.