Crazy For Love

“Here?”

“No, we’re usually in the Mediterranean.”

“What kind of wrecks?”

He laughed, a deep chuckle that spoke of good humor and friendship. “Mostly the kind that have gold in them.”

“Oh!” Chloe gasped. “You’re a treasure hunter?”

Even Jenn gave up her suspicious glare and looked surprised at that.

“We prefer to think of ourselves as researchers bringing long-lost artifacts out of the depths and back into the world where they belong.”

“Ah, so you give all the loot to museums?”

That smile again. Wow. “We do our best to find dives in international waters, but even we wouldn’t keep the historically significant artifacts for our own profit. For the most part.”

Chloe laughed, but when his gaze fell to her mouth, a little shiver of nervousness jumped through her stomach. The thick piece of driftwood crackled weakly as the fire finally latched on to it. Chloe used it as an excuse to look away. “We’d better move back, Max. That inferno could jump out of control at any moment.”

“My point exactly.” But in acknowledgment of her mockery, he grabbed the last piece he’d brought close to the pit and laid it carefully on the fire, angling a challenging look in her direction. The twisted piece of driftwood was half the size of the other.

Good Lord, this man was quirky. And cute.

“So what do you do for a living?” he asked, turning his head toward Jenn, the original interrogator.

“I’m a CPA.”

Eyebrows raised, he turned back to Chloe.

“Me, too,” she said.

“Wow. Accountants. That’s…sexy.”

“Yeah, right,” she laughed. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it. How about you, Jenn?”

“Definitely a first.”

“Come on. Number-geek girls? That’s hot.”

Chloe shook her head, flabbergasted. “That’s the worst pickup line ever! You have to at least say something we might believe. Just because we’re accountants doesn’t mean we’re desperate.”

Max leaned back, a frown twisting his mouth. “That’s not a pickup line! Jeez. Do you think every strange man who wanders into your private party uninvited is just trying to pick you up?”

Laughing, she shook her head.

“Maybe I just saw you in your bikini and thought ‘There’s a girl who’d want to talk baseball over beers.’ Did you ever consider that?”

“No,” she managed past a wide grin.

“Pickup line,” he muttered in mock bitterness.

When her giggles subsided, Chloe thought about buttoning up her shirt. She was wearing shorts, but felt suddenly, hotly aware that her stomach was exposed from her navel all the way to her blue, halter-style bikini. But that would be too obvious as she was still casually propped up on her elbows, so Chloe arched her back a tiny bit to smooth out any unfortunate creases. The skin on her stomach sizzled when his eyes drifted down before he cleared his throat and looked at the fire.

“Anyway, now that I’ve successfully played caveman—” his hand tilted toward the flames before he pushed to his feet “—I’ll leave you to your evening.”

Chloe looked up at him, wondering if he was a little over six feet tall or if her perspective was throwing off her estimate. Aw, who the heck cared? The faint apprehension winding up her gut was a far more pleasant sensation than the one she normally felt. Chloe decided to go for it. “We’ve got marshmallows. You and your brother are welcome to help us roast them if you think we’re not up to the task.”

His gaze flickered down to her stomach again. He seemed to consider her offer carefully before answering. “Well…there is a fine line between pleasantly burned and marshmallow conflagration.”

“So true.”

“I’d hate to leave and then find out later that everything went horribly wrong.”

Chloe smiled in a way she hadn’t smiled at a man in a long time. “Exactly.”

He matched her friendliness with a spectacular smile of his own. “All right. I’ll grab Elliott and some beers and be back in a few minutes. Thanks.”

She maintained her smile as he walked away. It wasn’t hard. He presented a very nice picture in retreat. Without looking away from Max’s ass, Chloe asked, “What the heck’s wrong with you, Jenn?”

“I saw him watching you from their porch. I worried that he’d recognized you. He could be a photographer, you know.”

“If he brings his camera back with him, we’ll know for sure.”

“A reporter then,” Jenn insisted.

“Look at him. Have you seen even one newspaper reporter who looks like that? He looks exactly like a man who’s spent months on a boat in paradise.”

“That’s true.”

“Thanks for trying to watch out for me, sweetie. You’re the best friend in the world. But I’m starting to think your original plan was a good idea. Vacation relaxation helped along by some illicit island love, remember?”

Jenn’s face finally brightened. “You know what? You’re right. He’s not a reporter. And he’s hot. You should go for it. Absolutely. Get your groove back.”

“Was he really watching me?”

“Yes.”

“Like, in a good way? Or in a ‘I wonder if her dismembered limbs will fit into my duffel bag’ way?”

“He was frowning, actually, so I was wondering what he was thinking. But maybe he was just coming up with awful pickup lines.”

Chloe waved a hand before scrambling up to her feet. “He probably thinks I look vaguely familiar but can’t place me. I get that a lot these days. Luckily, there’s no one around to clue him in…unless his brother recognizes me. But whatever.” She took a deep breath. “I’m Island Chloe, right? The girl without a care in the world?”

“Yes!” squealed Jenn, pumping her fist into the air in victory. “Funtown, here we come!”

“Maybe just a short trip.” Chloe lifted her chin high. “And now I am going to go put on some clothes, so I can stop holding in my gut.”

CHAPTER FOUR

DARN IT, THIS GIRL WAS CUTE. Max took a swig from his beer, his gaze rising up to the swirl of stars above, but fully aware that she was only inches away. He couldn’t count the number of nights he’d spent staring up at the Milky Way, surrounded by the sounds of lapping, rolling water, but he’d never been quite so relaxed.

Chloe was like a softly pulsing beacon beside him, sending off waves of warmth and peace. It would’ve been the perfect evening if not for the damn fire they kept feeding more wood to. At this rate, it would be morning before the embers cooled and Max could stop worrying enough to get some sleep.

“Another?” Chloe asked, holding out the bag of marshmallows. Max shook his head, and she set the bag back on the cooler before licking the last of the sticky mess from her fingers. He watched her mouth carefully. Her tongue glinted sparks of firelight when she licked.

They’d pulled chairs down to the sand, so he was separated from her by the wide wood armrests of the old beach chairs, but that was probably a good thing. As attractive as he found her, Max still didn’t plan on getting involved. But she kept licking melted sugar from her fingers, eyes closed as if she enjoyed the task…

“Castellan,” he heard the other woman saying to Elliott. “Jenn Castellan.”

Max made his eyes give up their vigil on Chloe’s fingers and turned toward the blonde. “That’s a Spanish name, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Her smile looked more relaxed, too. As if they’d all fallen under a drugged spell. “I know I don’t look it. But my grandfather came straight from Spain to America. We’re all blond and blue-eyed Spaniards.”

“Funny,” he said, “Chloe’s the one who looks like she could have Spanish blood. What’s your last name?”

Her gaze shifted for a moment, fingers folding together for a brief squeeze before she picked up a stick and started poking at the fire. “It’s Turner.”

“Turner. That sounds perfectly English.”

She took a deep breath, as if she were waiting for something, but after a few seconds, she melted back into her seat. “It is. Nearly 100 percent. Embarrassingly boring.”

“We’re all Irish. Sullivans on one side, McKillops on the other.”

“So how’d a nice Irish boy like you get into treasure hunting? No work at the police station?”

Elliott laughed, raising his beer toward Max in a mini-toast. “Max was always out there getting into some sort of trouble. He likes to be in the middle of everything. I’m just happy he found a way to turn it into a job.”

Her knee bumped into Max’s, drawing his attention back. “You were a troublemaker, hmm? Somehow I’m not surprised.”

“That’s me,” Max said as if it were true, smiling as Elliott launched into a tale about Max volunteering to lead an illicit weekend trip to a beach during his senior year of high school.

“He made up some story about helping out a youth group and talked our neighbor into giving up his van for the weekend. Max fit ten people into that van, six of them girls, of course. And they all camped out on the beach for three nights. I was green with envy, always a little too young to tag along.”

Lifting his own bottle up, Max offered the expected self-satisfied smile. Though it really had been a good weekend. There’d been ten seat belts in the van, and Max had scoped out a legitimate seaside campground with running water and bathrooms. Then he’d conveniently forgotten to bring the hard liquor he’d promised to score. Everyone had made it home safe and sound, and Max hadn’t gotten his girlfriend pregnant, though he’d worried about that for weeks afterward, due to the warnings on the condom labels about storing them in the heat. The van had definitely been hot as hell.

“Six girls?” Chloe asked. “And four guys?”

“Hey, we were in high school. It was all innocent fun.”

“God, you are so full of shit.”

He laughed because it was true, and felt even better when he saw his brother laughing with Jenn. “So are you girls just hanging out on the beach for the week?”

“Mostly,” Chloe said. “But the wind’s supposed to be calm tomorrow afternoon, so we’re going to try diving.”

Max’s heart lurched as if it had been hit with a stick. “Diving?” he croaked.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s nothing out here that rivals what you see overseas, but we’ve never tried it before, so we’re going to do the pool certification before lunch. What the heck? The seas are supposed to be calm, and we’ll probably be the only ones on the boat. It should be fun.”

Fun? Good God, no one seemed to regard diving as what it really was: a journey into an environment utterly hostile to human life. “Who’s the dive instructor?”

She shrugged. “We found a brochure at the grocery store.”

His heart lurched again, slamming into his chest wall as if it wanted him to do something about this ridiculousness. A grocery store. Unbelievable. His skin prickled with icy sweat, but Max tried to talk himself down.

You don’t even know this girl. If she’s dumb enough to sign up for a dive with a stranger, it’s none of your business. This is not your responsibility.

But she was so sweet and peaceful. A good soul. And how was she supposed to know how dangerous diving could be?

“You know,” Max heard himself say, “Elliott’s only been diving a couple of times. Would it be weird if we signed up? I don’t want to crowd you or anything, but you’re right. Forecasts call for calm seas tomorrow, but God knows what the weather will be like later.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a private dive. If you two want to come along, feel free. But surely there’s nothing out here that would interest someone with your experience.”

“Diving is addictive,” he lied. “I can’t live without it. It’ll feel good to get the gear on.”

Chloe set her beer down and leaned forward, a sparkle in her eye that could’ve been a reflection of the fire, but looked more like mischief. As if she knew a secret. Max held his breath. She got close enough to whisper.

“Fishing is just too darn boring for you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He sighed on a rush of air. “Yeah, it’s hard to stay awake in that little boat.”

She laughed, stirring the air against his ear. “I’m not a big fan of excitement, but I probably shouldn’t tell you that.”

No. No, she shouldn’t tell him that, because Max felt himself leaning toward her, an unwilling shift of his muscles. She didn’t like adventure. Despite that welcome news, he wasn’t going to kiss her, not in front of his brother and her friend, but his body wanted closer to that oasis of calm.

Her eyes sparkled again. She glanced down, her gaze touching his lips. Firelight danced over the soft skin of her cheek, as if it were mocking him, touching her where Max couldn’t.

Aw, damn. In public or not, he was about to kiss her. And he was already too involved, inserting himself into her life for no good reason at all.

No. He wouldn’t do it. One dive trip, and then he’d cut the unwelcome threads he’d already tied between them.

Max grabbed the bag of marshmallows as if that had been his goal all along. “Honestly,” he said, popping a sugary puff into his mouth. “I’m a pretty boring guy.”

Her eyes flashed suspicion. She didn’t think he was telling the truth, but for once in his life, he was.

JENN WATCHED ELLIOTT SULLIVAN’S EYES as he spoke about his work. He dismissed it as boring, something she wouldn’t want to hear about, but she found it fascinating. He’d done an internship at the CDC labs in Atlanta during college, and he’d gone to work as one of their scientists as soon as he’d graduated from medical school. Just that would have widened Jenn’s eyes with amazement, but he hadn’t stopped there.

After working for five years on studying flu vaccines and antiviral drugs, Elliott had moved up to the D.C. offices to work with the CDC branch of Health and Human Services, preparing for and fighting global outbreaks of the disease. He was like a modern-day superhero, working every day to save lives.

He paused as if he’d finished a point, and Jenn realized she’d been too busy staring to hear what he’d said. A blush rose up her face. He was waiting for an answer and she didn’t know what to say.

Elliott’s face fell. “But enough of that—”

“You’re amazing,” she blurted out. “I mean…what you do? That’s amazing.”

“I…” He shifted, taking his glasses off and putting them back on. “It’s just a lot of paperwork.”

“But it’s…” She wouldn’t tell him it was like being a superhero. That would be ridiculous and geeky and all the things she normally was with a man. And she didn’t want to be ridiculous with Elliott. He was serious and smart. Jenn took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “What you do is so important.”

“Ah, well. So is maintaining the sewer system.”

He said it like it was a joke he’d heard before, but Jenn laughed in shock. “What?”

“Actually the sewer workers are more important. If cholera made a comeback, no one would be worried about the flu.”

“You’re hilarious!”

“Really?” he asked, then shook his head. “I’m thinking you don’t get out much.”

“That’s true,” Jenn agreed, “but you’re still funny.”

It was impossible to tell if he was blushing. The firelight bathed them all in warm yellows and golds. But he did look embarrassed as he leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the armrest.

Jenn’s heart pattered in her chest. He was out of her league, of course. A successful scientist. A serious man with an important job who happened to be cute, too. She had a sudden urge to ask if he was married. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but sometimes that meant nothing. She couldn’t just ask, though. That question was loaded with all sorts of hints and suggestions.

Now she didn’t know what to say, and he seemed lost in thought, probably happy she’d stopped talking. But what if—

“Maybe it’s all those accountants you hang out with.”

“What?”

“Maybe you’ve spent so much time with them that you find bad science jokes funny.”

“Ha! Maybe. But I’ll have you know I work on international auditing. We’re like the 007s of corporate accounting. Last year’s seminar was in Hong Kong.”

“Wow!” he exclaimed, and suddenly Jenn felt ridiculous. He’d probably been to Asia a dozen times. He probably traveled all over the world for his work.

She was so awful with men. She always had been.

“So—” Elliott started, but Jenn jumped up to her feet.

“Pardon me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

It was her dad’s fault, she thought as she walked toward the cabin stairs. He’d been a high-level salesman, selling multimillion-dollar pieces of equipment to factories all over the globe. A slick talker who thought that the world revolved around him. And he’d traveled for weeks at a time, gone more often than he was home. Jenn had suffered a bad case of hero worship for her handsome father, desperate to be close to him whenever he was home, yet unable to think of anything to say that could engage his interest. Of course, it didn’t matter who was talking. Her father had a habit of starting a story right in the middle of another person’s sentence.

He was good at talking. And really, really bad at being a father. Or a husband.

She rushed onto the porch and through the door, relieved once she was alone. She was fine around her girlfriends. Completely normal and just as interested in men as they were. She could talk the talk, joking about having sex with hot strangers, but she failed miserably at walking the walk. Once she became interested in a man, her brain stopped working properly. Horrifying, not just because it was embarrassing, but because she was smart and independent and capable in all areas but this one.

Needing a few minutes alone, Jenn slowly washed her hands to get the last of the marshmallow off them. She stared at the mirror, hating the delicate features that often attracted the wrong kind of man. Wolflike men who looked at her and saw weakness and vulnerability. Elliott Sullivan didn’t seem like that kind of man, which was why he wouldn’t make a move. He probably liked strong scientist women in intimidating glasses and trim lab coats. Women who could talk nucleotides and DNA strands during postcoital conversation.

Jenn looked like one of those gangster molls from the twenties whose preferred method of communication was breathless, high-pitched exclamations of alarm.

Also, she’d clearly had one too many beers.

Disgusted with herself, Jenn dried her hands and turned off the light. But on her trip back through the living room, she spotted a green light blinking from the coffee table, like a bomb about to go off. Heart sinking, she picked up her cell phone and stared at the little message icon. Crap.

News from the outside world, and there was no chance it was good. Jenn called up the message and told herself everything was fine as the beep sounded in her ear.

“Jenn,” a hushed female voice said. “It’s Anna.”

Crap. Jenn pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Things are getting crazy here. I really think the mature thing would be to tell Chloe the truth. The reporters and police… This isn’t just about you. Or her. She needs to know, and I think you’re making this worse by hiding it from her. Chloe is an adult. She’ll be fine. I know she will. Just… Call me back, all right? You may be able to live with this, but I can’t.”

Jenn hit a button to cut off the message then deleted it with a shaking hand.

She wasn’t going to tell Chloe a darn thing and she’d be damned if she’d let Anna anywhere near her with that kind of talk.

The e-mail icon blinked also, so Jenn took a deep breath and opened the folder. She let the breath out on a rush when she saw the in-box. Nothing from Anna. Just a link from Google Alerts.

Stupid of her, but she’d set up a Google Alert for Chloe’s name, and even though every hit drove her crazy, she couldn’t stop looking at them. This one linked to a slang dictionary site. She knew what it would say. She knew it would throw her into pained fury, and still she looked.

“To pull a Chloe,” the dictionary entry said. Jenn’s shoulders fell as she read the words that would forever define her best friend as the worst kind of lunatic bitch. “To become a Bridezilla so demented that the groom would rather jump from an airplane than jump into the marital bed. Based on Chloe Turner’s disastrous engagement to Thomas DeLorn.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her aching head. The lying was killing her, but she could do it. She had to do it. Because the whole world had turned against Chloe.

Some people—people like Anna—believed those stupid clichés about the truth setting you free. What she didn’t know was that the truth sometimes beat you down and chewed you up and ruined your life.

Chloe didn’t deserve that. She’d been through enough. And Jenn wasn’t about to let the ugly truth ruin such an important friendship.

To be very sure that didn’t happen, Jenn turned on Chloe’s cell phone and checked the messages on that one, too. Sure enough, Anna had called and asked Chloe to call her back. Jenn deleted the message and blocked Anna’s number, her heart burning as she did, then she went back outside to have one last beer. She might not make it to Funtown tonight, but maybe she’d at least get some sleep.

CHAPTER FIVE

“WHAT’S HE DOING?” Jenn asked as she brought her breakfast out to join Chloe on the porch.

Chloe watched Max Sullivan carefully, trying to puzzle him out, but also trying very hard to predict what each of the muscles of his chest would feel like beneath her fingers. “I think he’s…digging a hole?”

When Chloe had come out, two small boys had been playing on the beach, digging furiously at the sand as if they’d been commissioned to break through to China. A half hour later, only their necks and heads had been visible, and that’s when Max had jumped in to help them out.

What had his brother said? He likes to be in the middle of everything. Even digging a fort with two five-year-olds.

“Does he know them?” Jenn asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I guess you shouldn’t be too flattered that he’s tagging along on our dive trip, huh?”

Chloe reached over and gave Jenn’s shoulder a halfhearted shove. “Meanie. So tell me about the other Sullivan brother. He’s a little reserved.”

“He’s sweet.”

“Really? I was going to guess stern.”

“No! He’s serious, yes, but really nice.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Chloe nodded sagely. “Nice enough to get it on with? Because you were looking at him last night like he was a big old hunk of man candy, darlin’.”

Jenn’s face blazed scarlet. “I was not! Oh, God, I was. He’s so sexy that I can’t even think when I’m looking at him.”

“You should— Wait.” Chloe tilted her head toward the open window behind her. “Is my phone ringing? I thought I’d turned it off.”

“Oh!” Jenn started to spring to her feet, but her plate was still on her lap and it tumbled down to the porch, misting her legs with powdered sugar.

“I got it.” Chloe stepped over her and walked inside. She didn’t know why she was looking for the phone in the first place when it was as likely to be a reporter as anyone else. But answering the phone was a Pavlovian response, she supposed.

She found it on the coffee table and glanced at the number, which sent an immediate shock through her system. DeLorn Limited. It was Thomas’s mother…or Thomas.

Stomach clenching into a ball of cement, Chloe pushed the button and croaked out a hello.

“Hello, Chloe,” the voice said. Though Mrs. DeLorn’s deep voice was nearly the same timbre as her son’s, her old-school Virginia accent immediately gave her away.

“Mrs. DeLorn,” she said a bit breathlessly. The woman ruled over her empire with an iron fist, but somehow Chloe had always liked her. And strangely enough, Mrs. DeLorn had liked Chloe. “You look a bit like my younger sister,” she’d said the first time they’d met. And because her sister had died as a teenager, Chloe had seemed to fill a place in the woman’s heart. They’d been close. Or so Chloe had thought. “It’s been a long time.”