Crazy About You (21 page)

Emma slammed the car door shut at the same time the first low rumbles of thunder rolled in the distance. “We can go in through the kitchen,” she told Chase.

He stood in the driveway, head cocked to listen to the thunder. After it finished, he followed her around the side of the house. “That storm sounds pretty far off. Maybe it’ll pass right by.”

Emma knew from experience it wouldn’t. “Nothing ever misses us out here on the edge of the world. If you could take care of the downstairs windows, I’ll run up and do the second floor.” She didn’t wait for an answer, moving toward the staircase as another crack of thunder sounded in the distance.

Emma made her way through each of the bedrooms. She didn’t notice any lingering odors and felt thankful the “prank” hadn’t resulted in permanent damage to the upper level of the house. She crossed her fingers the downstairs also aired out; otherwise the storm would be trapping those toxic fumes inside the home.

Coming down the stairs, she saw Chase studying the pictures hanging along one wall of the living room, what her mom called the “brag wall.” Framed photos capturing proud moments in Maguire family history hung in no particular order, from her parents’ wedding thirty years ago right through to the present. Sean’s first baby photo hung next to Emma’s first dance recital hung next to Sean’s high school graduation hung next to Emma and her winning eighth grade science fair project, and so on. The frames were all white but they didn’t match; the pictures were of various sizes, some matted, some not. Some photos were black and white, some in color. It felt like years since Emma had even stopped to look at any of them.

Chase turned and smiled at her, gesturing at the display. “This is so cool. It’s like your whole family history at a glance.”

She shrugged, feeling self-conscious about her life on display. “Everyone has family photos.”

He shook his head in disagreement. “My family doesn’t hang any photos that aren’t originals by Annie Leibovitz or Ansel Adams. But this…this is better.” He squinted at one of the newer additions to the wall, and paused, his back stiffening. “Where was this one taken?”

Emma moved next to him, her body suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity. The photo showed Emma standing with three men, the top of New York’s skyline as the backdrop. “That’s at a place called The Attic, up on the top floor of the Hilton, in the theatre district. The new mayor hosted a holiday party there to thank his supporters after the election. I went with the Eco Dawn team. Mom must have printed it from the company website.”

“Is that when you got recruited by the mayor’s office?”

She nodded. “John and Angelo were actually excited to see me leave, not because they didn’t like me, but because it meant the mayor was taking the company seriously. I saw those two Monday night at an event at the Plaza, the one announcing plans to expand their services into the Boston metro area.” When he quirked an eyebrow at her, Emma reminded him, “We left the Cape right after I ran into you and broke my phone. Tony insisted on going to the event, and I didn’t find out about Sean until I got back to my apartment that night.”

Chase tapped the glass over the photo. “Who’s the guy on the end who doesn’t look happy?”

“That’s Simon Kennedy. He came up with the original idea behind Eco Dawn. John and Angelo are his marketing and money guys.” She pointed at the men as she said their names. She’d never warmed up to the company’s founder, a cantankerous scientist who rarely came out of his lab. He’d gotten increasingly sour over the last year and hadn’t even bothered to show up at the company’s big announcement party on Monday, something she’d found odd at the time.

John Hansen, blond and handsome in a totally wholesome and outdoorsy way, was the face and spokesperson of the company. He did interviews and talk shows throughout the metropolitan tri-state area looking like he’d stepped straight out of an L.L. Bean catalog. As far as the world was concerned, he
was
Eco Dawn. Dark-haired Angelo Mancini crunched the numbers and worked the phones to finance the startup and make partnership agreements with the various waste management companies. He always wore pinstripes and tended to keep a low profile, but at least he knew how to loosen the tie once in a while and smile for the camera.

She remembered thinking the trio were ill suited to one another, especially with Simon always so serious and analytic, kind of like Chase. Or, at least, the Chase standing before her right this moment.

His attention riveted on the photo. “I read a paper in a scientific journal by Dr. Kennedy a few years ago, laying out an ambitious plan for plasma arc gasification plants to combat the rising costs of municipal waste disposal. Reducing carbon nitrogen emissions. His ideas seemed sound on the whole, but vague on specifics on how he planned to scale up from the smaller size plants already working in Florida and elsewhere into something engineered to take on a city the size of New York.”

“That’s the entire premise of the company,” she said. “If it doesn’t work, why would the mayor be willing to implement it?”

Chase turned to face her, his mouth quirked into a sardonic grin. “That would be the million dollar question, wouldn’t it? Why indeed?”

She frowned, her eyebrows scrunching together. “I’m not sure I follow what you’re saying. Of course it works. The last of the grant funding and donor money should come through soon, and then the project will be a go. Think of it—garbage in, clean energy out. It’s a win-win all around, especially in a city like New York that creates hundreds of tons of trash on a daily basis.”

Chase shook his head, all playfulness gone from his clipped tone. He ticked off the project’s negatives with cold calculation. “The plant itself will consume at least half the energy it generates, since arcs of this type are always electricity hogs. Plus, the dioxins created as a byproduct will end up dumped in the Hudson or straight into the Atlantic. Shipping them away proves too costly and reduces the carbon benefits of the plant, in addition to creating the secondary problem of where to safely dispose of the dioxins. Nowhere within miles of human habitation is safe, which means carting it out to the Midwest by train. To top it off, it gives consumers an easy out to avoid recycling, a task New Yorkers already avoid better than anyone. Shall I go on?”

Stunned, she mentally flipped through her talking points but came up blank. Was it merely that there were no easy rebuttals to his arguments, or was it more that he’d gone all cold and scientific on her in the blink of an eye?

A few hours ago she’d melted under his caresses, feeling his passion in every kiss and every word. This man arguing against the science behind Eco Dawn seemed anything but warm, hell bent on making her feel like a complete fool for believing in the company.

She shook her head to clear it, trying to remember this was still the same Chase, the same man who rearranged his plans so she wouldn’t have to deal with the police alone. He cared about her. He didn’t think she was an idiot. The fact that he worked in the environmental sector obviously meant he’d voice strong opinions about emerging environmental technologies. This patronizing tone and strange dissection of her company’s mechanics stemmed from the scientific side of his brain, not his heart.

While she wasn’t completely versed in the specifics of the science itself, she’d debated with plenty of skeptical donors over the last few months. The non-recycling argument came up fairly frequently, so she focused on rebutting at least that part of his rant. “Isn’t it unrealistic to think city dwellers will wake up one day and decide to recycle one hundred percent? Why not make things easier for everyone?”

Chase grimaced, his grey eyes distant and stormy. “The only real winners in your entire scenario are the waste management companies, who will make out like bandits, getting paid their hauling fees but not having to pay out for dumping. And they won’t have to worry about separate hauls of trash versus recyclables, as it can theoretically all feed into the plant. Some of these trash conversion places even pay incentives to the haulers, in effect doubling their pay.” His eyes opened wide. “Doubling their pay.”

“You said that already.” Emma couldn’t believe he could sound so cold and so angry at the same time. She searched for another point to counter his objections until she realized Chase stopped arguing. He was staring again at the photograph. “What?”

He tapped on the glass. “Angelo. Is he friends with Tony?”

“Friendly enough. Why?”

“No, I mean, did they know each other prior to you introducing them?”

She thought back. “I’m not sure. Again, why?”

“It’s never about the environment, always about the money.”

“That’s rather cynical of you, coming from an environment guy.”

“Hear me out. Tony isn’t helping you raise the funds for the Eco Dawn project out of the goodness of his heart or some righteous need to save the planet. It’s got to be about making money. Who controls the largest waste management company in the metropolitan area?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to believe in a hidden agenda. “I have no idea.”

“The Lenzini family.”

Emma felt like the air whooshed out of the room, leaving her unable to breathe.

Could Chase possibly be right?

Had she unwittingly spent almost two years of her life working on some mobster agenda?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chase reentered the bar, shaking the raindrops out of his hair. The fast-moving thunderstorm still raged outside, but he had to make a few phone calls under the bar’s awning. His eyes adjusted to the lighting and he spotted Emma clinking shot glasses with Todd, Jaegermeister slopping over the edges down to the floor. She caught his gaze and dissolved into giggles, dribbling more of the dark amber liquid on her hand before shooting the rest, seemingly in competition with Todd and the bartender. All three slammed their glasses onto the surface of the bar simultaneously, in time with the pounding of the loud music radiating through the air. He made his way through the crowd to stand by her side.

“That one was definitely a tie,” Emma declared, slurring a bit. Todd winked at the blonde bartender who refilled the three shot glasses. She held up a fourth and gave Chase a questioning look.

“I only stepped away to take one call,” Chase protested with a frown, shaking his head to indicate he didn’t want a shot. “It’s not like I could hear anything over this music. What did I miss?”

Todd spun to face him, all smiles. “Your girlfriend is drinking rings around us! Next time tell Christine to call back after closing time.”

His frown deepened. “It was your idea to have her overnight the things we need to the CCS. And didn’t you also swear off doing shots?”

Todd slapped his hand onto the bar. “Ah, you almost got me, boss. But I only said no more tequila. I said nothing about Jaeger!”

Emma threw a friendly arm around the intern’s neck, sending a wave of jealousy shooting through Chase. She gave Todd a friendly smack on the cheek before noting the frown on Chase’s face. “Lighten up, Francis, we’re just having fun.”

“Yeah we’re just having fun,” Todd repeated. He pulled Emma to him before dipping her backward in an exaggerated dance move, her neck tipped so that her head almost touched the floor. Her squeals of laughter rang through the bar. Todd pulled her back up and she gave him another kiss on the cheek.

“Come here,” Chase growled. He pulled her away from Todd. She complied with a giggle, her breath warm against his neck, her fingers sticky from the sweet, sugary alcohol. He found himself focused on a drop of Jaeger left glistening in the corner of her lips, wanting nothing more than to lick it clean right here in public, to kiss her thoroughly and properly, claiming this woman as his own. The thought alone tightened every muscle in his groin. Emma stared up at him, desire sparkling in her eyes as if she could feel the heat emanating from his khakis. Her other hand slid slowly down the front of his shirt, sending electric sparks shooting to every nerve ending.

Is it too early to call it a night?
It occurred to him in a brief second of sudden clarity this might be the first time his desire to return to his motel early had absolutely nothing to do with work.

Todd cracked up, breaking the tension of the moment. They turned in his direction, Emma’s arms falling to her sides. “He’s not going to get a
Stripes
reference, Emma. The boss man doesn’t have time to waste watching old movies. Or having fun, for that matter.”

Emma’s laugh tinkled lightly, like a wind chime in the breeze. She waved a dismissive hand. “I think you underestimate the good doctor, Todd.”

“Oh yeah? So who said those words?” He crossed his arms over his chest, questioning Chase’s movie trivia knowledge.

Todd’s challenging tone snapped Chase out of his daze. Luckily, one of his early mentors had been a huge Bill Murray fan, an assortment of VCR tapes dragged along on every research voyage.
Stripes
had been etched indelibly into his brain, along with
Meatballs,
Caddyshack
,
Ghostbusters
, and
Groundhog Day
. “Sergeant Hulka delivers that line early in the movie,” Chase said, a smile tugging at his lips. “And Todd, don’t order the schnitzel, they’re using schnauzer.”

Emma stuck her tongue out at Todd. “See?” She slid the fresh shot into his hand. “Penalty shot for you.”

“Gladly.” Downing it quickly, he slammed the glass to the bar and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “So, boss, what did Christine say? Are we all set for tomorrow morning?”

Chase nodded. “The equipment should arrive before ten at the lab via overnight delivery. We should be able to complete our research here in Provincetown while we wait for the local police to sort things out.” The same police who’d been less than helpful when he and Emma stopped by the station earlier in the evening. Detective Wilton had been unavailable and no one else seemed inclined to talk with them about the case, unwilling to share even the smallest of details. One sympathetic policewoman suggested they check back in the morning.

He glanced at Emma, who’d gotten quiet, probably worrying about the way the police treated them like suspects. “Everything will be okay.”