скачать книгу бесплатно
“This place is great,” Jenn assured her. “It’s packed during tourist season. We used to swipe beers off tables and hang around on the deck.”
Nobody was on the seaside deck today, but the locals probably got tired of ocean views and sun.
When they finally walked in, the first thing Chloe noticed was the arctic air-conditioning. She was about to suggest that they sit outside when she noticed something else. A lot must have changed since Jenn had worked on the island ten years before. There were plasma-screen TVs in all four corners of the bar, and there was nothing static-y about the baseball games playing on any of them.
“Oh, no,” Jenn breathed.
Fields glowed in vivid green contrast to the bright white uniforms on the closest screen. “The wonders of satellite,” Chloe muttered, trying not to feel bitter, even as a familiar sense of panic boiled up in her chest.
“Chloe, I’m so sorry! I had no idea!”
“It’s not your fault, and it’s no big deal anyway. It’s just a sports bar. Nobody here cares about me.” And it was true, at least at the moment. There were only six customers in the place, and though heads turned in their direction, the games drew their attention again quickly enough.
Chloe let out a deep breath. Slowly. “Will you order while I grab a table on the deck?”
Jenn nodded and shooed her out as if there were a scrum of people at the door, all jostling for a seat outside.
Chloe spun and reached for the handle, but she froze with her hand wrapped around the cold metal. She didn’t like the fear creeping along her spine, didn’t like the panic making her fingers shake. Over the past month, she’d turned into a coward who jumped at every shadow and couldn’t even trust people enough to eat dinner near them. The mere sight of a working television squeezed her stomach into knots.
She didn’t want to run outside. She hadn’t been in a bar with a girlfriend in…forever.
Fear turned to rage for a brief, shining moment, and Chloe spun back to face the bar, determined not to run…just this one time.
No one was watching her. Not even Jenn.
She let go of her death grip on the door handle and took a deep breath. Thomas’s stupidity and cowardice had turned her into a paranoid freak. Or, if she were feeling fair, the twenty-four-hour media culture had turned her into that freak, but Chloe wasn’t feeling the least bit fair.
But she was feeling wonderfully anonymous, so she put her chin up, ignored the icy air-conditioning and took a seat at the nearest table. One baby step at a time, she’d find a way to start a new life for herself. After this was over, she’d dye her hair and get a new apartment and walk through life as if her name hadn’t become synonymous with psycho-bitch. But for now, she’d have a drink in the bar and not look over her shoulder while she was doing it. Baby steps.
TRYING HIS BEST to ignore the incessant sound of rumbling waves, Max prodded the hot coals in the grill he’d set up on the sand.
“Hey!” Elliott called from the porch. “You sure you don’t want me to do that?”
“I got it,” he shouted back. Elliott lived in a high-rise condo in D.C. He likely didn’t understand the dangers of wind-whipped fire. If Max didn’t man the grill himself, he’d just stand on the porch, arms crossed, watching Elliott to be sure he didn’t let the flames get too high. It was more relaxing to simply take control of the situation.
“All right,” said Elliott from right behind him. “I’ve got beer duty covered, though.” He handed Max an ice-cold Corona and stood a little too close to the grill for Max’s comfort. Max shifted toward his brother to edge him farther away.
Jaw set as he stared out at the waves, Elliott moved a few inches to the side. Jesus, he looked even more miserable than Max felt. Max rolled his shoulders and put on his smile.
“Say,” he said, slapping his brother on the back, “there are women on this island.”
The creases in Elliott’s forehead deepened. “I think wild vacation flings are more your kind of thing.”
“Mm,” Max grunted, aware, as he always was, that the persona he’d crafted for himself fit him about as well as an extrasmall wet suit. Fun-loving, carefree adventurer. It couldn’t be further from the truth. But the wild woman part? That struck a little closer to home. “Yeah, well, I thought you were trying to add some spark to your life.”
“That last girl you dated sure threw off sparks,” Elliott offered, his mouth finally curving up in a smile.
“Don’t remind me,” Max groaned.
The smile twisted into a full-on grin. “What was her name?”
“Genevieve.”
“Right, the infamous Genevieve Bianca. She…”
“Hey,” Max cut in, “weren’t we talking about you?”
“What’s the point? Your life is a hell of a lot more interesting. It always has been.”
“The fucking plague is interesting, too.” Max deserved the laughter he got in response. Interesting was a mild word to describe his love life.
His woman problems had started out innocently enough. He liked to take care of things. To make sure the details of life were addressed. To make sure that people were taken care of.
There was no mystery about the origins of this neurosis. Their father had been an irresponsible, selfish bastard with no interest in taking care of anyone but himself. As the older son, Max had found himself stepping into that role. But something about the responsibility had gotten stuck deep inside him like a barbed hook. He couldn’t ignore it, even when any rational person would be able to walk away. The need to guide people out of trouble was a painful tugging in his brain. And women in trouble…
Christ, his love life had been a goddamn catastrophe from the moment he’d turned sixteen. Everyone thought he was attracted to bad girls. The truth was, they were attracted to him, and he was pathologically unable to turn his back on someone in trouble.
Nine months ago, in an era he liked to refer to as post-Genevieve, Max had taken a vow of celibacy. No more women, no matter how vulnerable and needy they were. He was strictly hands-off. Life since then had been perfectly lonely. As isolated as he could manage. He’d loved it.
In fact, he felt a stark envy for Elliott’s life. His quiet apartment. His office filled with papers and books and computers. His complete lack of any hint of drama. Elliott would never believe it, but Max would switch places with him in a heartbeat. Let Elliott deal with a wild, globe-trotting heiress like Genevieve. Max would live like a monk.
A monk who still took pleasure in watching the approach of two pretty women walking across the sand. “See?” he murmured. “Women.”
Max took a swig from his beer and poked at the coals while Elliott did a double take. When the women looked in their direction and both smiled at the same time, Max did a double take, too.
They were nearly the same height—about five-six, he’d guess—but the similarities ended there. The blonde had long wavy hair and delicate features. The brunette was curvier, but wholesome-looking, like a hybrid of Ginger and Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island. Both Ginger and Mary Ann had been staple fantasies in Max’s early teen years. He was intrigued.
No, you’re not, his stern inner voice assured him.
Turning back to the grill, he grabbed the pack of hot dogs to keep himself busy. A vacation fling was the last thing he needed.
But his brain replayed the image of wind-whipped hair and swaying hips on an endless loop in his brain. That brunette looked peaceful, and Max craved peace the way a pirate craved treasure.
Perhaps a deserted island wasn’t the best location for a man who’d sworn off booty.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4307b5c1-a2bc-526a-831b-e88ffea131af)
JENN GRABBED ANOTHER ROCK from the pile and added it to the fire ring with a worried glance toward the other cabin. “He’s watching you,” she whispered to Chloe.
“He’s probably watching you,” Chloe answered with a distracted frown. “But I thought you wanted him to watch me,” she continued. Jenn watched her scoop up a handful of sand and let it drift through her fingers.
“Now I’m suspicious.”
“Hot guy checking me out? I don’t blame you.”
Jenn rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
Chloe just sifted more sand, her brow furrowed.
“Aren’t you having fun?”
“What?” Chloe glanced up and her face cleared a little. “No, I’m having fun! This is great. Very relaxing.”
“Relaxing, huh? I was hoping we’d make it all the way to Funtown.”
Chloe laughed, but Jenn regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. “Funtown! God, I haven’t heard that in forever. I never see Anna anymore. Maybe we should’ve invited her, too.”
“Mmm,” Jenn answered, trying for nonchalance, wishing she hadn’t mentioned anything associated with Anna Fenton. “You know how busy she’s been with her job. I hardly see her anymore, either.”
“She could’ve gotten off work if she’d wanted to. Her dad owns the damn hotel chain.”
“Yeah…” Jenn’s heart thundered in her chest as the weight of her lies pressed down on her. She shook her hair back, hoping to shake off the worry, as well. This vacation was meant to be fun, and she assured herself that everything would be fine. “I think he’s grooming Anna to take over the kingdom or something.”
“Too bad. It would’ve been nice. Like revisiting college. You two could’ve shared a room, and I would drop by at inconvenient times to sprawl on your bed and mope about boy trouble!”
“That does sound vaguely familiar.”
“Well, we’ll have to all get together again soon. After the trial. She can help with my makeover. I need her to tell me which era is back in style. You’re as hopeless as I am.”
“I just go to Ann Taylor and let them sell me stuff.” Jenn rolled the last stone into place and dusted off her hands. “Anyway—”
“Why did she decide not to go to culinary school? I haven’t talked to her since she was looking at applications last November.”
Jenn wanted to drop the subject, but she didn’t want to look suspicious, either. “She didn’t decide. Her dad told her that working in the kitchen was a good experience for a woman who was going to own a dozen luxury hotels someday, but she’d become a chef over his dead body.”
“Oh, yikes. I had no idea. How’s she taking that?”
“Okay,” Jenn answered with a forced smile. Chloe had never been as close to Anna as Jenn was, thank God, or there would’ve been no way to cover up this disaster. “Anyway, what’s the big deal? I’m not enough for you?”
“You’re enough for me. Plus, she probably wouldn’t have been able to relax without cell access. But it sounds like she needs a vacation as much as I do.”
Jenn pushed up from her knees to dust off the sand. “I saw a bunch of driftwood at that first dune. I’ll be right back.” Even though Chloe lay back on the cooling sand as if she didn’t have a care in the world, Jenn breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried off.
She wasn’t cut out for deceit and never had been. As a kid, when she’d lied to her parents, all it had taken was one stern look from her dad to break her, forcing a weeping confession. Now the tears seemed to push behind her eyes, waiting for a chance to escape.
But it was too late to confess. There was no point. Chloe needed to move on and Jenn was going to help her do just that.
Anna couldn’t understand that. She’d tried to convince Jenn that this time on the island would be a great opportunity to clear the air, get the truth out. Jenn had pretended to consider it, but, in reality, she wanted the truth buried under a hundred feet of earth where air would never touch it.
Jenn stole a look over her shoulder at Chloe stretched out on the sand, the slanting rays of the setting sun gleaming over her. Chloe deserved to be happy again. Jenn was determined to make that happen, even if it meant lying for the rest of her life.
Speaking of happiness… She used the excuse of bending down for wood to angle her head toward the other cabin. Sure enough, that guy was staring hard at Chloe, forehead creased in thought.
Jenn frowned at him. What could he be thinking about? Did he recognize Chloe? The whole point of this stupid getaway had been to hide Chloe away from prying eyes so she could take a deep breath before the charges were filed, because that was going to be a complete nightmare. Hints were starting to come out that Thomas had done more than just fake his own death…
Jenn wanted to give her friend a little peace before the trauma. And maybe all that other talk would just die down.
Clutching the wood to her chest, Jenn hurried back toward the cabin, keeping her eye on the man next door. He was still frowning at Chloe.
Crap. She wanted Chloe to have a good time, but what if Jenn pushed her toward this guy and he really was a reporter?
Before Jenn could intercept him, he stood and stepped onto the sand.
CHLOE OPENED HER EYES to find a man standing over her, profile orange in the rays of the setting sun.
“Hello,” the man said.
She propped herself up on her elbows. “Hello, yourself.”
“My name’s Max Sullivan. My brother, Elliott, and I are staying next door.”
When he extended a hand, Chloe shook it, then gave it a little tug to hint that she wanted up. Max pulled and she jumped to her feet with hardly any effort at all.
“I noticed,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Max. I’m Chloe. This is Jenn.” She gestured toward Jenn, who was rushing forward with an armful of wood as if she were planning to storm a castle with a battering ram.
He glanced over his shoulder, then dropped Chloe’s hand and swung toward Jenn, saying, “Hey, let me help with that.”
Chloe felt a twinge of unwarranted disappointment when he hurried toward her friend and swept all the driftwood out of her arms. He was probably interested in Jenn, like so many men were. But, sadly, Jenn was a waste of adorable blondness as far as Chloe was concerned. She was shy around guys, and only got more anxious the more attentive they became.
But maybe she liked this guy. Oh, well. Easy come, easy go.
Jenn’s face pinched into worry as Max smiled at her.
“This is Max,” Chloe said hurriedly. “One of our next-door neighbors. He came over to say hi.”
“Hi,” Jenn offered quietly.
Max winked and carried the wood to a spot about ten feet from the fire ring, dropping most of it on the sand before he carried a few pieces toward the pit. “So what are you ladies doing out here in the wilds of Virginia?” he asked as he began rearranging stones.
“Nothing,” Jenn said loudly. “Just relaxing.”
Okay, she wasn’t normally that nervous around guys. Chloe shot her a questioning look, but Jenn ignored it.
Their neighbor scooped more sand out of the pit until the bottom was wide and flat and dark with moisture. “Elliott and I are out here fishing.” He tossed five small pieces of wood into the hole, then added one large one to the top before reaching toward the lighter Chloe had left there.
“That’s not going to make a very big fire,” Chloe muttered. The man shot her an amused smile as if that answered her complaint.
“What do you do for a living?” Jenn blurted out.
His brows rose, drawing Chloe’s attention to his dark brown eyes. Nice. When he began to twist up one of the supermarket circulars she’d brought out as kindling, her focus moved from his eyes to his wide, strong hands. Very nice. “I work on the water,” he answered.
“Doing what?” Jenn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“I’m an officer on a research vessel.”
“Where?” she prodded.
Chloe frowned at her rudeness until Jenn made a picture-taking gesture behind Max’s back. Chloe rolled her eyes and shook her head. No way was this guy with one of the gossip rags. He looked healthy and muscular, not like a man who spent 90 percent of his life huddled outside the doors of L.A. nightclubs. Also, he didn’t have a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
