Crazy for Love Page 5

  Chloe could believe that. And she hadn’t exactly reached out to Mrs. DeLorn, either. Her heart softened a little. “I know you must be feeling pretty low.”

  “Oh, you can’t imagine,” she said. “But how are you getting along, Chloe? I suppose the investigators have been hounding you day and night?”

  “Um.” Was investigator some old-fashioned word for paparazzi? “The press has been giving me a hard time, yes.”

  “Oh, the press. Yes, they are awful, awful people. They scurry around outside our office building like cockroaches. I wish I could squash them all under my shoe and be done with them.”

  “Yuck. Well, I’m sorry to hear they’re bothering you, as well.”

  Mrs. DeLorn abruptly changed the subject. “Do you remember that trip we took to the Cherry Blossom Festival this spring?”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “We had such a lovely time and the hotel suite was so nicely outfitted.”

  “Yes.” Did she just want to stroll down memory lane? The trip had been nice, but not exactly the highlight of the year. Chloe had lobbied for returning to Richmond that night so she could sleep with her fiancé instead of in the bedroom next door to his.

  “Well, I’m sure you remember…Thomas was going on and on about that all-terrain vehicle he wanted for this fall’s quail season and I gave him a little extra to help him out.”

  “Um. Okay.” Chloe made a face at a watercolor painting of seabirds that hung on the wall. What the hell? Maybe all the stress was proving too much for the old lady.

  “You remember that?”

  “I remember him talking about the ATV, yes.”

  “And when you two dropped me off at my place?”

  “Yes?” Chloe asked shortly, belatedly remembering that one of Mrs. DeLorn’s pet peeves was one-word sentences. We’ve lost all the elegance of our language, she would complain. Which maybe had something to do with Thomas’s strange tendency to speak in full sentences during sex. Oh, yes, Chloe, I love how it feels when you do that.

  She managed to choke back a laugh, but her amusement was made worse by Mrs. DeLorn’s irritated huff. “Well, I was only calling to remind you of the money I loaned Thomas.”

  Chloe couldn’t hide the incredulous shock in her voice. “Mrs. DeLorn, I don’t know anything about that. Are you trying to imply that I share part of the debt? Unfortunately, I’m kind of high and dry right now. I put a lot of money into the wedding. I’m sure you remember?”

  She’d never been rude to the woman before, but she couldn’t believe this was the conversation they were having after her son had turned Chloe’s life upside down. When Mrs. DeLorn had left those messages, Chloe had expected some sort of plea for forgiveness on behalf of Thomas. What the hell was this?

  There was a long enough pause that Chloe was left wondering if Mrs. DeLorn had hung up, but then she finally made a little humming sound in her throat. “I’m so sorry about that, dear. You know, why don’t you let me take care of those bills?”

  Chloe pulled the phone away from her face to look at it in shock. When she pressed it back to her ear, Mrs. DeLorn was still talking. “—Always been generous with both of you when you needed help. I won’t begrudge you a little cash any more than I’ve begrudged Thomas all the gifts I gave him.”

  What in the world? She was tempted to just agree, but it felt a little like being bought off, so Chloe thanked her for the offer and told her she’d consider it once all the bills were sorted out. Thomas owed at least half of the deposits, after all, if not all of them.

  Then she hung up the phone and stared at it for a little while longer.

  “What was that all about?”

  She spun to see Jenn standing in the doorway, legs still streaked with white. “I think Mrs. DeLorn is losing it.”

  “That was Mrs. DeLorn?”

  “Why do you look so freaked out? You don’t even know how weird she was being.”

  Jenn’s shocked look quickly turned to nonchalance. “What did she say?”

  “She was just talking about some money Thomas owed her. It was strange as all hell. So what’s Max doing?”

  “Still digging.”

  Chloe tossed her phone back on the table and went out to watch the show.

  MAX SULLIVAN WAS HOT on land, but on a boat…on a boat he approached nuclear levels of hotness. Chloe watched him with the complete freedom offered by her dark sunglasses as he spoke with the diving guide. He looked perfect out here, hair tossed by the sea wind, sun glinting off the golden hairs on his strong arms. His mouth widened with a laugh as he slapped their guide, Jacob, on the arm and shook his head.

  A few words drifted to her ears, but she couldn’t make sense of them. Names of dive sites or harbor towns, she assumed. The guide’s eyes took on a starry look of admiration as he shot questions at Max.

  Ten minutes of excited conversation later, with a couple of miles of sea behind them, Chloe half expected the guide to turn and ask if they’d be willing to skip their lesson so he could dive with Max Sullivan. Instead, he shook Max’s hand and gestured generously toward the tanks lined up against the side of the boat.

  Max knelt down and began picking up tanks and shifting them around as if they weighed nothing. Chloe knew they were heavy. Just as she’d suspected: utter hotness.

  His strong hands cradled the tanks, turned knobs and ran over every piece of equipment. Chloe watched, heavy-eyed, relaxing into the fantasy of him so thoroughly checking her over. The boat rocked. Chloe sighed.

  He hadn’t made a move last night, and she’d been surprised at that. At one point, she’d been sure he was about to kiss her and then…nothing. A couple of beers, some nice conversation and way too many marshmallows. On the one hand, he’d invited himself along on this trip. On the other, he looked far more interested in the diving equipment than in her. Not a good indication that they were headed toward a fling.

  The guide shouted something that was snatched away by the wind. Max straightened and gave him a thumbs-up and a big grin as he shouted something back, but she caught the way his mouth twitched to a frown when he crouched down and tapped on one of the tank dials. Was something wrong?

  Chloe glanced at the other two. Elliott wasn’t paying any attention. He was watching Jenn from the corner of his eye, and Jenn was too busy staring out at the waves and pretending not to see Elliott.

  The frown remained on Max’s face. He peered closer and eased a knob open in a slow circle. What if there was something wrong? What if there was a tragic accident and things went bad down there? Chloe pictured her face splashed all over cable. On every magazine cover and Web site. She’d die in the prime of the scandal, and no one would ever remember her for anything else. She’d be Chloe the Bridezilla for eternity.

  She jumped up and rushed across the boat.

  “Hey!” she said breathlessly. “Is everything okay?”

  When Max raised his face, he was wearing a blinding smile. “Sure, everything’s great!”

  “Why were you frowning?”

  “What?”

  “You were frowning. At that tank.”

  He stood and wiped his hands. “Just concentrating, I guess. The tanks look good.” He moved his hand toward a clipboard tucked into a pocket of the boat. “He keeps good records.” When he glanced down at the board, the frown flitted across his face again before he replaced it with a smile.

  Chloe grabbed his wrist. “Listen. The lesson in the pool today was fun. And I wanted to have a tiny adventure out on the sea, but I don’t want to go this way, okay? I don’t want to be on the news and on the… Sorry, I don’t mean to freak out. It’s just…”

  She took a deep breath and tried to channel Island Chloe. This was Max’s job. Something as easy as pie for him. It wouldn’t be cool to hyperventilate and pass out in a puddle of urine or something. “Chloe—”

  “Whew,” she said with a laugh. “Sorry. Being surrounded by all this water makes me feel insignificant. And fragile. But you know what you’re
doing, so just tell me that this guy is okay, all right? I’ll be fine.”

  He wrapped his free hand around the fingers clutching his wrist in a death grip. “Diving is inherently risky. Things can go wrong. But I talked to the guide about the dive this morning while you were finishing your lesson. We decided to do an easy dive—only thirty-five feet down. The wreck is wide open on the sea floor, so there aren’t any spaces to get caught in. And I wouldn’t let you near that water if the equipment wasn’t safe. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Her fingers didn’t loosen, despite the warmth of his hand on top of hers.

  “I don’t recommend finding a dive guide at the grocery store, but you lucked out.”

  “Okay,” she said again. Her hand didn’t relax, but she purposefully flexed her fingers. No panic attack. Not this time. She’d only had one actually, but the idea of having another was enough on its own to spiral her close to an attack. Evil, vicious circle.

  Max’s hand let go of hers and rose up to cup her chin. Warmth edged over her jaw and calmed her down. “Hey, we’ll stick together, okay? I could do this in my sleep. But—” he said hastily as Chloe opened her mouth to protest “—I won’t.”

  “Ha.”

  His hand slipped away, fingers trailing down her throat so briefly that she couldn’t tell if it had been an accidental touch. His smile disappeared. “Or you could just change your mind.”

  When the boat hit a wave and bounced beneath her, Chloe let go of Max and reached for the railing to catch herself. Max didn’t even budge. He was like a pirate, accustomed to life on the high seas, impervious to waves and sea spray and unstable footing. She wished his faded blue tee was an open-collared shirt that could whip around in the wind and reveal his chest.

  The roar of the motor dropped down to a low grumble and the boat slowed. “Almost there!” the guide shouted.

  Chloe set her shoulders and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. Jenn’s really excited. And so was I until that little freak-out. It’ll be fun. It must be like a whole other planet down there.”

  His eyes crinkled. “That’s exactly what it is. Want some help getting your wet suit on?”

  “Do you ask all the girls that?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “Oh, really?”

  He tipped his head in concession. “Almost.”

  Chloe said, “I think I can handle it on my own,” as she sauntered off. Or as close to sauntering as she could manage as the motor died and the boat began to rock in the gentle waves. She gave up when her thigh slammed into the railing, and took the last two steps just hoping that Max wasn’t watching.

  He wasn’t. Max Sullivan was too busy getting ready to dive. The first step appeared to be shucking his baggy swim trunks and T-shirt to get down to the tighter layer underneath.

  “Holy ass cheeks, Batman,” Chloe muttered, not caring that she had just taken a seat next to the man’s brother. Chloe didn’t care about anything at that moment but the sight of Max’s thighs outlined in tight Lycra. He was wearing a suit that looked like a Speedo crossed with bike shorts, painted in blue and black deliciousness onto a Greek statue with the ass of a Roman god. Or something like that.

  Elliott, seemingly oblivious to her stunned expression of lust, grabbed his duffel bag and walked over to join his brother. When he pulled his shirt over his head, Chloe jabbed Jenn in the ribs. “Ow!”

  “Turn around, you idiot!”

  “I think the— Oh, my gosh.”

  The guys both sat on one of the cushioned benches and began easing the wet suits up their legs. Chloe and Jenn should have been getting ready, too, but they just sat, openmouthed, staring at the peep show. The Sullivan brothers happily obliged them by carrying on a serious conversation.

  “We shouldn’t be watching them like this,” Jenn murmured.

  “What are they going to do? Call the cops and report us?”

  “Still—”

  “Shut up. I can’t concentrate with you—”

  “Ladies!” the guide boomed, stepping into their line of sight. “Get a move on. It’s time to get wet.”

  It sure as heck was. Chloe toed off her tennis shoes and tilted her head to see past Jacob’s body. Max had his suit up to his waist now. But his chest was still bare.

  His chest was tanned, sculpted muscle, sprinkled with golden hairs. Not big, bulging muscles, but the muscles of someone who did physical work every day, hefting tanks around and lowering boats into the water and swimming and climbing and—

  “Miss Chloe—”

  “Oh, all right already,” she grumbled, begrudging the interruption even though Max was zipping the suit up to his neck. She whipped off her shirt and eased her shorts down without standing up. She was an accountant, after all. The heaviest thing she lifted all day was her coffee cup. Her figure was fine, but it wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny when being squeezed into a Neoprene sausage casing. All sorts of rolls and gatherings were bound to appear.

  Max wasn’t watching, thank God. He was busy fitting his brother with a tank and talking rapidly as he adjusted the fittings. As a matter of fact, Max didn’t glance over once. She hadn’t wanted to be watched, but she’d expected at least an interested once-over of her bikini.

  Elliott’s gaze drifted over to Jenn’s petite body more than once, even as his conversation with his brother continued. But Max didn’t take his eyes off the gear, and Chloe suddenly realized that she’d better get all the adventure out of this dive that she could, because there wasn’t going to be much excitement back at the beach.

  Party animal or not, this guy wasn’t that interested in Chloe Turner. Her kryptonite powers were securely in place.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHLOE CARRIED A COUPLE OF BOTTLES of water and the last two doughnuts out to the darkened porch. There was just enough light squeezing past the curtains to see the chairs, but not enough to interfere with their view of the stars.

  “Your phone is beeping,” she said, plopping down into the seat.

  “It’s probably just the battery,” Jenn answered, her voice a little hoarse. The return ride had been bumpy, and Jenn had turned faintly green. She was exhausted, but Chloe was still pumped up from excitement.

  The dive had been amazing. Absolutely like being on a different planet, as if they were the first people to ever see it, even though the dive site was well-known and heavily trafficked. The wrecked ship had been a steamer from the early twentieth century. It had so intrigued her that she hadn’t begun to notice the fish until five minutes in. Then suddenly they’d become visible to her, sliding in and out of holes and arches. She’d even spied an eel poking its head out cautiously.

  Amazing.

  And she’d been able to relax and enjoy it all because Max had hovered a few feet above her, moving whenever she’d moved, like a floating guardian angel. He hadn’t explored the site for himself at all, as far as she’d seen.

  Frowning, Chloe took a big bite from her doughnut. Something wasn’t adding up. So far, she’d heard several stories about Max being some sort of overgrown good-time guy, but she’d yet to see him instigate any sort of adventure, aside from playing in the sand with a couple of kids.

  On the dive trip, he’d made no effort to enjoy himself, he’d just watched and given the occasional thumbs-up to her excited gestures. And the beach fire… He’d deliberately inserted himself into the scene, but instead of building up a ridiculous bonfire as was the instinct of every other man on earth, Max had kept subtle control of the flames at all times. And though the men had fit in an early-morning fishing trip right at sunrise today, Elliott was the one who’d suggested it. So Max didn’t respond to fire, diving, flirtation or fishing.

  Maybe he was just bored. Maybe beach bonfires and easy, shallow dives held no excitement for him anymore. But he hadn’t looked bored, he’d looked tense. And that tension had had nothing to do with her, even when she’d wanted it to.

  For God’s sake, the man hadn’t even glanced at her in her bikini. Not until aft
er the dive. Then he’d finally relaxed. Then she’d caught him watching her past sleepy lashes as she’d stripped out of her tight wet suit.

  Yes, after the dive, Max had been all quiet, good humor and jokes, and “Oh, it’s too bad we won’t be able to fit another one in on this trip,” offered in a suspiciously cheerful voice. The rest of the group had been exhausted and disappointed that the day was over.

  Chloe finished off her doughnut and glared at dancing glimmers of moonlight on the sea. Warning sirens were blaring in her head, and after her recent troubles, Chloe was inclined to heed them.

  “I’m so tired.” Jenn sighed.

  Chloe looked over to the faint outline of Jenn’s profile. Her eyes were closed, her forehead creased. “Are you okay, Jenn?”

  “I’m just sleepy,” she said quickly, eyes popping open.

  “Are you sure? You seem a little tense.”

  “No!” Jenn yelped, making Chloe jump. “I mean, I’m fine. You’re the one who’s been thrown under the bus by life.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I just mean, whatever I might worry about, mostly it’s you. What Thomas did to you…”

  The words prompted Thomas to make an appearance inside Chloe’s head like a looped video. He was laughing at a joke, pretending to be the perfect fiancé. Even now, she couldn’t see the selfish, panicked thoughts that must have been turning behind his eyes for months. The truth was unavoidable, but her 20/20 hindsight wasn’t kicking in. He’d seemed fine. Would he look different now?

  She hadn’t seen him since the day before the crash. Hadn’t talked to him. What was he supposed to say, anyway? “Hey. Sorry I faked my death in order to escape your love.”

  Acid burned in her stomach, but, strangely enough, nothing else hurt very much. Could love wear off that quickly? And if it did, had it really been love at all?

  Chloe shook her head, afraid to poke too intently at that question. “The whole point of coming here is to not think about it. Just for a few days. If I can manage that, you can, right?”

  “Yeah.” Jenn tilted her head, looking in Chloe’s direction. “I just don’t want you to be hurt any more.”