Crazy About You (10 page)

“Jim said Tony got cagey and evasive about their affiliated holders, and didn’t seem to understand the nuances when Jim and his coworker were discussing control that night we were all out drinking at Embargo.”

“I didn’t understand a word of that conversation.”

“But you don’t sell corporate insurance.” Kathy’s voice dropped a notch. “Listen, Em, maybe he’s just an idiot who relies on nepotism to hold down a job, but he seems smarter than that. And you have to consider his family name and connections when you’re looking at the whole picture.”

Emma cut her off. “Family name?”

“The Lenzini crime family?”

“Tony’s name is Lenzi, not Lenzini.”

“It’s a variation of the same name. I looked it up.”

“That’s ridiculous, Kathy. Tony’s not a mobster. Whoever heard of a mafia guy shopping at Brooks Brothers or spending his Sunday afternoons at the Bergdorf clearance sale with me?”

“You only ever see the best in people, Em. That’s why I love you. But your friend? He’s got an edge to him. I’m a little worried about you moving into that apartment.”

Emma frowned. “It’s not like I have a lot of choices.”

“I told you, move in with Jim and me. We’ve got a spare bedroom.”

“Move in with the newlyweds and cramp your marital bliss? No way. I’ll figure it out.”

“We can talk about it Sunday at the cake tasting.”

“Fine. But I already gave you my answer.” Bells tinkled over the door, and the expected artist entered the store. “I’ve gotta get to work. Fingers crossed that Sean’s better soon and I’m home for cake on Sunday.” She clicked the Off button and decided the text to Tony would have to wait.

Chapter Ten

The sun rose high before they found the elusive garbage slick, floating in the same general area Captain Scott reported first spotting it. After touring the full perimeter, Chase felt confident it hadn’t broken off from the impressive gyre they’d been mapping and studying for the last few weeks. He still felt an obligation to investigate and catalogue findings, but without the imminent threat from that same strain of unknown virus, Chase didn’t feel the urgency he had the day before.

Even Todd, in his suboptimal state of being, noticed the differences right away. “This plastic all seems to be in the same state of degradation.” He hauled in another net filled with samples. He wore heavy canvas work gloves to protect his hands from the plastic roping of the net, straining with the weight of the haul. “And not nearly the depth from surface to water that the other gyre boasted. I mean, that thing was like a floating plastic island. This is more like trash thrown overboard some big vessel. Illegal dumping?”

“Most likely.” Chase ripped off his work gloves and dropped them to the deck. He snapped on fresh protective gloves to grab the edge of the net now hovering above the deck. “A few more samples to be on the safe side and we can call an early day.” He dumped the net’s contents into a waiting container and snapped the lid on the bin. He removed the gloves, leaving them inside out to dispose in the yellow biohazard bag tied to the deck railing.

Todd shook off one of the work gloves to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “So why the disposable rubber gloves then? Didn’t you say the pathogens on the plastisphere are unique?”

“Unique, yes, but not the only dangers in the sea. Besides, you really want to take that chance?” Chase shook his head at the intern. “Besides the fact that this all seems like medical waste. Maybe even from the same load.”

“Hospitals dump their trash in the ocean?”

“Not legally.” Chase grimaced. “Although you do realize it
was
legal until the 70s.”

“More recent than some of your musical choices,” quipped Todd, shoving his hand back into the work glove. “We studied the 1972 Stockholm Conference in class, thank you very little for your confidence in my education.”

“I read your resume and transcript. I know you’re bright. Doesn’t mean you’re always smart.” Chase glanced at his watch and saw it was going on two o’clock. “Hey, why don’t we take a quick break and grab a bite to eat? The captain packed sandwiches in that cooler with the water. I need to talk with him a minute about the rest of the week.”

Todd clipped the net to the side of the boat. “Is it going to take us that long to finish with this garbage slick?”

Chase climbed the stairs to the bridge shaking his head. “That’s what I want to talk with him about. We’ll need one more day to be sure this is the only debris field in this area, but after that I think we’re done here. We need to get back to New York and focus on the avian virus we found in the Atlantic gyre, and finish the mapping project for the USGCRP.”

The fishing boat chugged into harbor well before sunset. Chase leaned against the railing, admiring the view of Provincetown from the water, the towering grey Pilgrim Monument stark against the clear blue sky. From this vantage point, he couldn’t see the throngs of tourists and crazily clad residents, only the stately masts of sailboats already nestled in their berths, rising against the weathered shingles of the waterfront buildings.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the salty air and smiled, thinking back on the day. Captain Wilbur might not be the most creative or talkative navigator, but he knew his way around the particular area Chase needed to visit.

One more day of measuring and sampling, just to make sure they didn’t miss anything, then they could head back to New York. In two weeks he’d present his findings from the Woods Hole trip, and make his recommendations to the CDC. So much to do in such a short space of time.

And yet, despite his better judgment, his mind wandered back to a certain blonde. He tried to analyze what it was that drew him to her. Was it the infectious laughter? Those uniquely turquoise eyes, or the legs that stretched a mile? Or simply the way her lips seared his skin, shooting flames of heat through his entire body? His groin throbbed at the thought. Perhaps more research was needed into the matter.

Except, she had a boyfriend, even if she claimed it wasn’t serious.
And let’s face it. Who moves in with a guy if it isn’t serious?

Chase had every intention of staying away. Far, far away. He’d only be in Provincetown a few more days and then back to the city, removed from temptation. Except…she lived in New York too. He started thinking of all the places he could take her for dinner. To his favorite spot in Central Park, or maybe to that off-Broadway show his mom sent tickets for. How prescient of her to send two tickets, wasn’t it?

The direction of his thoughts stopped him short. He let out a heavy sigh. Who was he trying to kid? There was no way he could simply walk away. He needed to see her again.

What was it Todd said last night? Before the kid’s brain fogged with tequila?
All’s fair in love and war.
Chase owed it to himself to try one last time to ask her on a proper date. He needed to see if the spark he felt was real or all in his imagination.

And figure out if Emma felt it too.

“Hey, boss. How much longer?” Todd grabbed the railing next to Chase, looking a lot less green than when they’d set out that morning.

“Did you get all the samples packaged?”

“Yep. Taped up, labeled up, and locked up. Don’t need to be spreading unknown pathogens around the bar tonight.”

“And the rubber gloves…”

Todd shook his head. “I may have started the day hung over, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten protocols. Everything’s wiped down, sanitized, or disposed of, per proper procedure. Although, if you ask me, it seems like a bit of overkill. I mean, we’re headed out on the same boat tomorrow morning, boss.”

“You can never be too careful. Especially when you don’t know exactly what you’re dealing with. That’s why we have those protocols.”

“Yeah, well.” Todd shrugged. “This felt like an extra-long slog of a day and I’m ready for some hair of the dog to cheer me. Care to join me for a beer or two?”

“Ten hours ago you swore you’d never drink again.”

A wide smile lit Todd’s face. “Tequila. I swore I’d lay off the tequila, boss. I said nothing about beer. Or other forms of alcoholic indulgence.”

“First things first. Let’s get the samples over to the storage cooler at the Center for Coastal Studies. I want to make sure our work today doesn’t go to waste.”

“And then…” Todd grinned and pretended to hoist an invisible pint glass.

“We’ll see.”

“Which is as close to a yes as I ever get from you, boss.”

“Okay, Todd? You gotta stop.”

“Stop what, boss?”

Chase shook his head, exasperated. “Calling me
boss
all the time. It sounds ridiculous. Almost as bad as
dude
.”

Todd grinned. “You got it, boss. I promise not to do it all the time.”

****

Emma glanced up from assisting a customer when Chase and his assistant strolled by the shop’s plate glass window, duffle bags slung over their shoulders and two big coolers on wheels in their wake. Chase caught her eye and smiled, but kept up the brisk pace. From the look on his face, Emma guessed the trip was a success, but had no idea how he quantified “success.” And with the shop currently full of tourists, she had no way to find out.

Just thinking about talking to him again sent a wild thrill running through her. But it wasn’t like she could drop everything and rush after him, much as she might want to. Part of her wondered if that Vito guy was lurking somewhere, waiting in the shadows to catch her chatting with Chase. Yes, she’d promised Tony she wouldn’t start dating anyone seriously, but Kathy’s words circled her thoughts. Why did she promise him something so silly? He wasn’t her boyfriend. And there was obvious chemistry with Chase. She wanted a chance to know him better, if he’d even give her that chance after yesterday’s misunderstanding.

The customer at her side interrupted her thoughts. “Not to sound cheap, but why are the beads in these bins so much more expensive than the ones at the craft store?”

Emma smiled. “Each of these glass beads is handmade by a local artisan, not machine-manufactured in China. The beads in that bin are some of my personal favorites. The artist actually has a glass studio in Brewster you can visit, if you’re so inclined, and she ships beads and other pieces of art glass to galleries all around the country.”

“Is that why some of the finished pieces of jewelry are so expensive, too?”

“We like to support the local community. My mom believes some of the most creative jewelry artists in the world live here on Cape Cod.” She continued on to point out pieces and name the artists, some of whom the woman had heard of.

“Oh,
Cosmo
featured her necklaces in a recent issue,” the customer gushed, clapping her hands. “What else do you have by her?”

Forty-five minutes later, the woman walked out the door happy with her purchases. She bought several hundred dollars’ worth of finished jewelry, and Emma forgot momentarily about Chase’s grey eyes and Tony’s annoying cousin. She remembered how much she enjoyed the idea of helping the local economy, supporting the artists who called the Cape their home.

Her mom’s shop served a real purpose for the local community, and someone would be able to pay their rent through the winter months because of these sales today. The thought made her question her own job back in the city. Who benefitted from all the long hours and hard work she put in?

In the last several months, she successfully helped to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars to help build and implement the mayor’s new initiative. But there still wasn’t anything concrete to show for it all. Not like what her mom did here in P-town every day. And certainly not like Chase, with his save-the-planet scientific missions.

The thought of Chase and his smile made her heart skip a beat. It might have only been one lunch date—okay, not even really a date-date—but there was something about him that felt so familiar. Like she finally found what she was looking for.

She glanced at Hershey, lying behind the counter. “Which sounds crazy, right? I barely know anything about the guy. Except that he’s a scientist trying to save the world. Which you have to admit, sounds pretty cool, almost like a superhero or something. And he definitely kisses like a superhero. More like a god than a geek.”

The dog yawned widely before making some noncommittal noises. Emma couldn’t tell if the chocolate lab was agreeing with her or asking for dinner. She ducked into the back room to grab the keys and flip off the music.

The bells over the door tinkled. “We’re closing now,” she called, coming to an abrupt stop in the doorway. Heat flashed to her cheeks, wondering if he’d overheard the god versus geek comment. “What are you doing here?”

Chapter Eleven

Chase stared back at Emma, nerves jangling at the sight of her. She looked different today but no less captivating, a flowing skirt swishing around her ankles hiding but somehow accentuating her long, sexy legs. Large clunky jewelry sparkled at her neck and wrists, paired with a black tank top bunched into delicate folds, showing a mere hint of the ample cleavage he’d felt pressed against his chest the day before. Her blonde hair gathered in a loose knot at the top of her head, curling strands framing both sides of her face.

She looked right at home among the elegant displays and playful bins of beads and findings, yet so different than her sleek, city look from prior days. Softer and more vulnerable. He cleared his throat. “We had a great day on the water, and I wanted to thank you for recommending Captain Wilbur.”

She exhaled a long breath she didn’t realized she’d been holding. Did he make her nervous? Hope flared inside him. Maybe he hadn’t blown it when he walked away.

Her face split into a wide grin, looking more like the impulsive and headstrong woman he’d had lunch with the previous day. “I’m so glad it worked out! Dad says the guy knows the Atlantic as well as he does, but his behavior concerns me sometimes.”

“Because he’s a drunk?”

Emma’s face reddened, and he wished he could retract the blunt words. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yes, he has a problem with alcohol. Sometimes. Not always. I’m glad it wasn’t an issue today.”