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Max was hunched over the fire, coaxing a weak flame to grow to something that would take hold of the wood.
Chloe cleared her throat. “I really don’t think that’s going to keep us warm once the sun sets.” Little fingers of fire worked over the tiny bits of driftwood, inching slowly toward the larger piece.
“You can add more later. It’ll burn better if you start small.”
“Are you some sort of beach party expert?”
“I’ve had my fair share of sand down my shorts,” he drawled, finally glancing up from his task. Those brown eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Chloe felt her insides melt at the sight. Was he flirting with her? Or had he looked at both women with the same amount of warmth?
She couldn’t be angry if he was just spreading his luck around. After all, they’d discussed the men as interchangeable parts just a few hours before.
His gold-streaked hair curled onto his brow on a gust of wind, and Max dusted off those big hands and shoved it back, his arm muscles making interesting shadows as he moved. She sat down and helpfully patted the ground next to her, happy when he dropped down and propped his arms on his knees. “What kind of research do you do?” she asked.
“We, um…” His smile edged toward sheepishness. “We locate and map out previously uncharted shipwrecks.”
“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 (#ulink_c1048f1c-87cc-525a-9205-55258329a029)
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.”
