Crazy for Love Read online

  He thought he’d answer no, but something in the tone of her words stopped him. Max didn’t think she was talking about him now. “I don’t know,” he answered carefully. “I keep part of myself separate from my brother, and I obviously love him.”

  “Yeah,” she answered hesitantly.

  Max felt fear spiral inside his chest. He liked her, and even though he told himself it didn’t matter, he couldn’t stand the thought that she might look at him and see an awful, twisted person.

  But while he was still deciding what he could say to distract her, Chloe turned toward him and slipped an arm around his chest. “You’ve got to find a girl who doesn’t mind that you’re a control freak.”

  “I’m not a control freak.”

  “You totally are. Embrace it.”

  “I just want people to be careful. That’s all.”

  “Uh-huh. Also, you’re a control freak.”

  “I’m n—”

  Her hand left trails of shimmery stars against his skin when she edged it beneath the blanket and slid down his stomach. “You’re a control freak,” she whispered as she wrapped her hand around his half-hard dick. “Admit it.”

  Max frowned, meaning to deny it as he had his whole life, but she was stroking him, making a faintly sympathetic humming sound in her throat.

  “Admit it.”

  He shook his head, concentrating on the wonderful pressure of her squeezing fingers. “I take care of people,” he murmured. “They need me.”

  But this was a new conversation for him, and his adamance couldn’t be sustained, not when Chloe straddled his thighs and continued her persuasive techniques. And she was so damn naked.

  “Say it, Max. You’ll feel better.”

  He watched her hand flex and tighten and knew she was right. Look how much better he was already feeling.

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “I am a control freak.”

  “Good boy. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  No, it hadn’t been that hard. On the other hand, as she scooted down and leaned over his dick, Max was pretty sure it had never been so very hard before.

  “I really like being honest with you, Chloe Turner.”

  JENN LEANED OVER to slip her sandal off and shake out yet another rock. “I’m sorry,” she murmured to Elliott as she grasped the arm he offered for balance.

  Elliott looked down the long, straight stretch of road and frowned. “How about we just take off our shoes and walk on the beach instead? It would be cooler.”

  She was so aware of the largeness of his forearm beneath her fingers that it took her far too long to get her sandal back on her foot. By the time she let go of him, she was babbling. “Oh, sure. The beach. And more appropriate on a date, I suppose…even though it’s not really a date.”

  His jaw tensed just as it had when she’d said that over dinner.

  “I mean…we both knew that Max and Chloe wanted time alone, so I’m really happy you brought up dinner. It was a good idea.”

  “Thank you.” He looked away from her, eyes sliding over the watery horizon. “I had a nice time.”

  “So did I!” she said far too loudly. Oh, God, this was impossible, trying to pretend she wasn’t having the best time of her life. If she blurted that out, Elliott would likely edge away and ditch her as soon as he had the chance. But she was having the time of her life. Whenever she lapsed into anxious silence, Elliott filled the space between them with quiet talk about his work and the places he’d been.

  Though he’d occasionally apologize for going on, Jenn had urged him to continue. She liked his voice and his work was fascinating, even when he started talking about viruses that seemed to be made up entirely of numbers and letters.

  He was so calm. So steady. He didn’t flirt or charm. He didn’t make comments with hidden sexual overtures. He just talked.

  And he asked questions about her life, too, but Jenn did her best to steer the conversation back to him. When he talked, it soothed her. Elliott didn’t seem to want anything from her but company, so her heartbeat was nearly normal during these conversations.

  But right now as he stared down at his feet, a frown drawing his brows together, Jenn’s heart sped. He was bored or irritated or tired.

  “Should we?” she asked, a self-conscious blush heating her face.

  Elliott’s eyes rose.

  “Walk,” she stammered. “On the beach?”

  “Oh, of course. Jenn, are you okay?”

  She knew from the feel of her unbearably hot cheeks that she was blushing like a madwoman. The sun wasn’t setting fast enough to cover up that kind of fiery-red. Damn her pale skin. “I’m fine.”

  “You look—”

  “I just get nervous!” She hurried off the shoulder of the narrow road, her feet wobbling a bit on the rocks that marked the line between blacktop and sand.

  “Jenn,” Elliott said from close behind her.

  She wanted to keep going, but when her sandals started filling with sand, she had to stop and kick them off. Elliott caught up and started to reach for her, then shoved his hands in his pockets instead. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

  “It’s not you,” she said, hiding her mortification for a few seconds by picking up her sandals and shaking them clean. “It’s just talk of being on a date. I get…” Helpless to explain it, she shrugged and forced herself to meet his gaze. Jenn expected to see exasperation. Instead she saw disappointment.

  Elliott cleared his throat. “Right. Would you feel more comfortable staying on the road? If you don’t want this to be a real date, then—”

  “But it’s not a real date. Is it?”

  “Jenn…I asked you out. You said yes. I thought it was a date, but if this was just about giving Chloe some space, I understand.”

  “I thought you asked me out for Max’s sake.”

  “Max can take care of himself. I asked you out because I wanted to. But I can imagine I’m not your type.”

  “You’re so smart,” she said in a rush, thrown off balance by his admission.

  “Yeah…my work…I’m trying to find some hobbies.”

  She couldn’t process that, because her heart was screaming he likes you, he likes you, and her mind was starting to panic at the thought. He was too smart, too serious, too good for her. She didn’t deserve somebody like him, not with the awful truths she was hiding. “Elliott, I…”

  He smiled, a polite smile that didn’t mask the sadness in his eyes when he stepped back to give her some space. “It’s no big deal, Jenn, really.”

  The extra foot of space between them seemed to remove some pressure from her skin. Too much pressure. Yes, her anxiety ratcheted down, but that relief was offset by loneliness. She was no good at relationships, but for the past few months she’d been so profoundly alone, unable to talk to Chloe and afraid to talk to Anna.

  Elliott looked like he’d been alone, too. And as anxious as dating made her, she’d had fun with him. She’d loved it.

  And watching his face shut down into a polite smile dug out a hollow feeling inside her chest.

  “I’d like to walk on the beach,” she said before she could lose her nerve. “With you.”

  He kept his hands in his pockets, narrowing his eyes as if he were trying to discern something from her expression.

  Jenn raised her chin. “You’d better take off your shoes. It won’t be very romantic if you’re constantly running away from the waves.”

  “Yeah…I’m not interested in a pity walk. But thanks.”

  “Elliott.” She laughed, part of her anxiety falling away in the face of his discomfort. Before she could think better of it, Jenn reached out and took his hand. Nervous power zinged through her arm as she tucked her small hand into his large one. She felt his physical hesitation, but she also felt the moment when his fingers curved around hers and cradled her hand in his.

  “I want to walk with you,” she said again, and when Elliott smiled, her chest exploded in butterfl
y wings.

  They stopped talking, finally, and just walked. Long minutes later, Elliott finally stopped to slip off his shoes, and when he stood again, he turned toward her as if he had something to say. “I’m divorced.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t been expecting that. “You were married?”

  “I was. For a little over a year. But I wasn’t a good husband.”

  The words felt like a knife. “You cheated?”

  “No!” He sounded shocked that she’d even suggest it, and her hurt receded to a fading shadow. “God, no. But I work too much. I spend too much time at the office. And even at home, I think about work a lot.”

  “But you come home every night, right?”

  “That’s not enough.”

  No cheating. No traveling for weeks at a time. He hardly sounded like an awful husband, but she obviously had low standards. “Well, I’m sorry you went through that. It must’ve been hard.”

  “I just thought I should tell you.” His words were somber, as if he were offering something important.

  They resumed the walk, though Elliott was quiet this time. The loss of his voice made her feel lonely again, so she reached out to take his hand.

  This time, when he stopped, Elliott didn’t say a word. Instead, he kissed her.

  Jenn inhaled, drawing in the taste of his kiss. His mouth was the barest pressure, only a hint of heat, giving her time to adjust. Five heartbeats passed, then six. Though he’d rested a hand on her upper arm, he didn’t pull her closer or tighten his grip, not until she pushed up on her toes and kissed him back.

  Her heart beat so hard that it drowned out even the cries of the gulls around them. Elliott had only been waiting for a sign, it seemed, because any sense of innocence in his touch stopped in that moment. His lips brushed hers, parting just enough that she knew he wanted to taste her. When she opened for him, his hand crept up to cradle the nape of her neck. He held her and tasted her, his tongue rubbing slowly over hers as the wind caressed her skin.

  Elliott’s body was just as solid as she could’ve imagined. He was a rock, steady and strong, holding all her weight as she sighed and tried to take him deeper. He kissed just as she’d expected, too. Serious and focused, with a sensitivity that matched the sadness in his eyes.

  By the time he drew away, she could barely catch her breath.

  He brushed his thumb over her cheek, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not the kind of guy you normally date.”

  She shook her head.

  “But this is still a date.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He slid his fingers between hers and they walked, and for a moment, Jenn thought that maybe everything would be all right.

  CHLOE WATCHED MAX’S ASS as he walked toward the bar. His shorts were baggy and too worn to reveal much, but now that she knew what his butt looked like naked, she only needed the highlights to picture it perfectly. It was taut and muscular and so pale compared to the rest of his skin that the sight of it had made her laugh. Max hadn’t even minded; he’d just flashed a smile over his shoulder as if he knew exactly what she found funny about his backside.

  God, he was adorable.

  Sighing, Chloe watched him lean against the bar with a sort of confidence most people never found. The kind of self-assurance that drew your eye. No wonder he found it so easy to control people. In that moment, she felt she’d do anything for his approval.

  As she watched, Max spotted a glass too close to the edge of the bar and edged it toward the middle, his relaxed expression not budging an inch.

  Her heart clenched with bittersweet desire. It didn’t unclench even a smidgen when a waitress in a very short skirt approached him with a very friendly smile. He smiled back and his eyes swept down her long legs, lingering on the spike heels as he spoke. Then he used his foot to scoot an off-kilter barstool out of her path before she could trip.

  In that small moment, Chloe became seriously worried about her heart. It had been broken not a month before—or maybe only bruised?—but now it was swelling with frightening tenderness. The perfect dichotomy of the man fascinated her. His beach bum looks and charming smile gave no hint of the tortured soul beneath.

  The waitress brought his beer in record time, and he rewarded her with a wink that, literally, made the woman’s eyelashes flutter before she made her way back behind the bar to wait for Chloe’s piña colada.

  My God, that man worked hard.

  “Oh, my word!” a woman’s voice crowed from a few feet away. Chloe barely registered it.

  “I can’t believe it!”

  She glanced idly toward her right, then did a double take when she realized that the grandmotherly woman was staring right at her. “Pardon?”

  “You’re Chloe Turner! Oh, my God, my friends are never going to believe this!”

  Chloe had been so removed from the circus that it took a moment for her brain to decipher the words.

  She’d forgotten about the life she’d left behind. So when the awful warning behind the words finally sank in, the force of it hit her like a giant fist. “No,” she managed.

  “Hold on a sec. Let me get a picture for proof.”

  Pure panic speared down her body like lightning. “No! I’m not that person.”

  The woman’s delighted smile hung on. “You are though, right?”

  “No. My name’s Jenn. Not…who did you say?”

  The smile snapped to a frown as the prospect of a lost story reared its ugly head. “Chloe Turner. The Bridezilla.”

  Chloe shrugged, trying to keep her eye from twitching.

  “The one whose fiancé crashed his plane on purpose!”

  “Ooh. Right. No, that’s definitely not me. I’m from Florida.”

  “Florida?” The woman’s hand finally emerged from her purse with cell phone in grasp. “Why would someone from Florida come out to a Virginia island?”

  “Oh…” Chloe’s eyes rolled wildly as she tried to think of a plausible lie. Her gaze landed on Max, propped against the bar, eyes locked on a car race on the television. “You know…an illicit affair.”

  The woman’s eyes slid toward Max and widened. “Oh!”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat and shifted with the need to jump up and sprint from the building.

  “Well, you look just like her. Maybe a little thinner.”

  Nice. Chloe forced a smile as she shrugged and searched out the nearest exit, just in case. But as her gaze shifted, she noted that Max was no longer at his place at the bar and snapped her eyes back to where he’d been. He was halfway back to the table, beer in one hand and piña colada in the other.

  Chloe jumped about a foot and spun toward the stranger. “Okay, go on now. This is a secret affair. If he thinks someone knows about it, he’ll bolt. Go on!”

  The woman’s overplucked brown eyebrows fell to a hard frown, but she headed back toward her table in a huff.

  Chloe swung toward Max with a smile that felt as if it might shatter at any moment. “Hey!”

  “Hey, yourself. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing! Why? What?” She snatched the glass from his hand with a strangled giggle.

  His eyes slid to the side. “Who’s that woman?”

  Perched on the edge of her chair, Chloe swallowed a big gulp of sweet slush. “Who?” she rasped.

  “The woman who was over here. The one who’s taking your picture right now.”

  Christ on a cracker. Chloe tried not to look in the woman’s direction, then realized that would be a singularly strange reaction and snapped around to look.

  “Her? Oh, she was asking about my hair. I guess she likes it.”

  The dilemma Max faced wrote itself in broad strokes across his features as his gaze flicked over her hair. Yes, her hair looked like a twiggy nest that had been ground into his pillow for a good hour. But could he say that to a woman he’d just started sleeping with? No, he could not.

  He cleared his throat. “Also, you look upset.”

/>   “Nope!”

  “Chloe, you’re pale as a ghost.”

  Shit, shit, shit. They should’ve stayed at his cabin. They had food and drink there, but he’d looked so boneless and relaxed that she hadn’t wanted to subject him to the dangers of the old stove. She’d been the one to suggest that they skip cooking and come to the bar for a burger. What an idiotic idea.

  Now she couldn’t very well backtrack and ask for the steaks instead, not when he suspected that something strange was going on. “I’m just really hungry all of a sudden. Low blood sugar.”

  His eyes went round, as if she’d just smacked a sensitive part of his body. “Low blood sugar? Why didn’t you say something?” He snatched her drink from her hand and shoved the menu at her. “Let’s get you some food. They’ve got bowls of pretzels at the bar, I’ll grab one of those, all right?”

  “Sure,” she answered his empty chair. Max was back and banging the bowl of pretzels on the table before she could even sneak another sip of her drink.

  “What do you want to eat?”

  “Guacamole burger,” she answered after popping a pretzel obediently into her mouth. “Will that pair well with a piña colada, though?”

  “Not funny,” he muttered, then took off for the bar at a jog. This anxiety issue of his could really pay off under the right circumstances.

  Still pretty damn anxious herself, Chloe stole a glance toward the evil grandmother. She was gone. The sight of the vacant table should’ve capped the fear bubbling inside Chloe’s chest, but somehow everything just solidified in the space behind her heart.

  This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all. This was a small community. The woman would talk to a friend. The friend would call the girl she used to babysit who now just happened to work at the front desk of the resort. The room was registered under Jenn’s name, but a quick Internet search would reveal that Jenn Castellan was a name that showed up in interviews about Chloe Turner. Someone would call a gossip rag for the excitement or for the $500 tip-off prize. Either way, this vacation was over. Island Chloe was going home.