Crazy for Love (4 page)

“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.”

D
ARN 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 environ
ment 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.

 

J
ENN WATCHED
E
LLIOTT
S
ULLIVAN'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.