Crazy for Love (10 page)

“You know what?” When she took his hand, her fingers felt beautifully delicate sliding between his. “In all honesty, I'm totally going to have sex with you, too. So it's a good thing you're onboard.”

Max narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that a joke?”

“Well, the ‘onboard' part was a joke, but maybe not a good one, if you have to ask. But I wasn't joking about having sex with you.”

“You must have been.”

“No. I haven't been celibate, but I've been monogamous, so I understand that it feels…awkward.”

“By awkward, I assume you mean the ridiculously stupid shit that keeps spilling from my mouth?”

She inclined her head graciously, but he caught the smile that hovered on her lips.

“You have a boyfriend?”

Her head popped up, alarm flashing through her eyes. “No! Of course not. Not anymore. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

“The kind of girl who'd consider having sex with a complete jackass like me.”

“Ha!” She smiled. And then she smiled wider, and Max felt the world flash around him. In that moment, he knew he wore the same expression that Elliott had worn minutes before. Damn.

Chloe's hand squeezed his. “I guess I'm a bad girl then, Max. A very bad girl.”

Oh, Jesus. A stupid smile took over his lips and wouldn't give up. He wondered if there were little hearts spinning around his head. She was very obviously not a bad girl, but what could be sexier than a good girl looking to get dirty?

He apparently had no gift for smoothness unless he was lying, so Max kept his mouth shut and said nothing. Instead, he held Chloe's hand and enjoyed the comforting feeling of the rough orange fabric of their life jackets rubbing together in the wake of each wave.

 

T
HE ANCIENT BIKE SHE'D
borrowed from the resort made Jenn happy. The springs under the giant seat squeaked every time she turned a pedal, the tattered reed basket rustled in the wind and she had no idea where the clanking sound was coming from. But
she felt free and daring as she flew down the narrow road, her hair tugging itself out of its braid with every gust of ocean breeze.

She felt like a kid again, strong and carefree. She'd been allowed to run wild at certain times of her childhood. After her father would leave on one of his three-week-long trips, her mother would usually take to her bed for a few days. Jenn had been responsible for bringing her mom tea and toast in the mornings, but the rest of the day had belonged to Jenn. She'd loved it. She'd been grubby and tan and as brave as any adventurer as she'd explored her neighborhood and the woods beyond.

Then she'd grown old enough to realize what her mom and dad always fought about the night before each of his trips. His other women. His other life.

Jenn shook off the memories and pedaled harder, passing the harbor and continuing on toward the older homes beyond. Utilities were expensive here, and most of the yards were adorned with clotheslines of snapping towels and clothing. She rode along the main road for a long time, thinking of nothing. She didn't turn around until the houses disappeared and drifting sand turned the road into an obstacle course.

Her thighs ached, but for once, her heart didn't. As she headed back toward town, she passed a cottage
with a hand-lettered sign in the window: “Monthly Rentals! Inquire Within.”

Her pedaling slowed for a moment as she considered the idea of quitting her job and spending the summer at the beach. She could work at the resort again, or at a restaurant. It wouldn't quite be running away, not what Thomas had done. Jenn wasn't engaged; she didn't even have a boyfriend.

If she wanted to leave her life behind and escape, no one would be hurt. Frankly, she'd be better off on her own. So far she'd managed to make a mess of every important relationship she'd ever had.

As if he were a harbinger of another disastrous turn, Elliott appeared on the path ahead, stepping out of a shop, head bent as he looked over a newspaper in his hand.

He was a good forty feet in front of her, and obviously absorbed in his reading. Jenn slowed, frantically looking around for the escape of a side street. But the ancient brakes of the bike squealed and startled Elliott, who glanced over the rim of his glasses and took a step back.

She'd been made.

“Jenn,” he said, as if he weren't the least bit surprised to see her. With the paper in hand and the creases in his brow as he watched her over his glasses, Elliott looked every inch the scientist. Jenn's heart shuddered with nervous excitement.

Having rolled to a stop in the middle of the lane, she put her foot down and just stood there, afraid to go closer. But Elliott wasn't as affected by her presence as she was by his. He folded the newspaper under his arm and strolled forward.

“I was hoping to run into you,” he said. “Max invited you and Chloe over for dinner tonight, but I thought they could use some privacy. Maybe we could go out. I hear there's a good restaurant a few lanes over. We could take a walk.”

The first thing that hit her was alarmed joy. Elliott Sullivan was asking her out. The second thing that hit her was alarmed arousal. They'd be alone.

Then she realized that the motivation wasn't a desire to spend time with her, but a desire to give his brother some privacy. As quickly as her heart had leaped into her throat, it sank too low in her stomach.

Elliott cleared his throat and glanced up the road. “You're probably tired after the fishing trip.”

She was tired. It was the perfect excuse to say no, but then Elliott would have to spend the evening alone and she'd be stuck in her cabin feeling guilty. “I think a walk and dinner would be lovely. Thank you.”

Did he want to spend time with her? Or was she just the third-wheel friend who had to be paired up with someone? Still, even that third-wheel friend
got lucky sometimes. And she did need some stress relief.

Jenn pedaled off, trying to decide if she should be anxious or excited. She finally settled on both.

C
HLOE RAN THE BRUSH NERVOUSLY
through her hair one last time. She was going to do this. She was going over to Max's cabin for the sole purpose of having sex. Her previous sexual experiences had always been in the context of a relationship. A new relationship, maybe, but it had always been sex with the expectation that it would lead to something else. This was leading nowhere. Max worked on the other side of the world, and she was about to enter into the maelstrom of a scandalous trial.

Yet it didn't feel meaningless. She liked Max. He made her feel warm and tingly, and not just below the waist.

Jenn stepped up to the mirror to put on her lipstick.

“Are you sure you're not mad?” Chloe asked.

“No. I'm happy for you. Just be careful and use a condom.”

“Thanks, Mom. You too, by the way.”

Jenn's face blazed to immediate scarlet. “We're just going to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Chloe,” Jenn said sharply, obviously trying to put an end to the conversation. She bit her lip, her eyes darting nervously to the mirror as she patted her hair.

Chloe relented and smiled. “Have fun at dinner.”

“We're walking to a place on the other side of town, so…we'll take our time.”

“Okay. This is weird, right? Maybe Max and I will just have dinner, too.”

“Sure! That's why you dug out your one matching set of bra and panties.”

“Shut up. It's a vacation. I was going for comfortable.”

“Oh, you achieved that.”

“Be nice, Jenn, or I'll bring up the fact that you put on your nice underwear, too. Are you thinking of expanding your sex portfolio? It could use a new addition.”

“Shut up. He only asked me out because Max wanted to make you ‘dinner.'”

“Elliott likes you.”

Jenn shook her head. “Don't say that. I'll just get more nervous.”

“Then he doesn't like you at all, and I hope you two are able to tolerate each other long enough to get through the evening.”

“Thank you.”

One hug later and Jenn was on her way, which meant it was time for Chloe to go, too. Max had promised steaks and wine on the porch, but they both knew what was really going on. Hell, they'd stated it out loud, and Chloe was suddenly very sorry about that conversation. Funny enough on a boat in mixed company. But now? Crap.

Hands shaking, she tugged the hem of her skirt down a little, thankful that she had packed a nice set of underwear. But if this turned into more than one night of fun, Max was going to be exposed to her “Super Hottie!” panties. Or the Tinkerbell ones.

“Definitely Super Hottie,” she muttered to her reflection. Her lips were glossed and her legs shaved. There was nothing to be done about her curvy thighs or slightly chubby cheeks. It was time for sex.

“Okay.” Her face radiated pale uncertainty, so Chloe said it a little louder.
“Okay.”

Just as a tiny glimmer of confidence took hold, a knock echoed through the cabin and she jumped and grabbed for the sink before she tipped over.

She'd told Max she'd been a good girl in high school. The truth was that she'd always been good. Always. And look where that had gotten her. Screwed over, knocked around and left on the side of life like roadkill. She was a laughingstock and an infamous
bitch, and she didn't even know what she'd done to deserve it.

Whatever she and Max did tonight, she'd worked hard to earn it. She was going to grab this bull by the horns and enjoy the ride.

Smiling at her naughty pep talk, Chloe snapped off the light and walked toward the screen door.

“Hey, there,” Max said, the words slow and deeply friendly.

“Hey, yourself.”

Max pulled open the door, and before she had a chance to feel awkward, he leaned in for a not-quite-innocent kiss…and Chloe remembered why she'd decided to have sex with him.

His tongue was a hot, rough slide against hers. He tasted minty and sweet, and the way his hands curved over her bare shoulders… Chloe swayed into him, letting her weight settle against his chest.

“I've been wanting to do that all day,” he said.

An embarrassingly breathy sigh escaped her mouth.

Max grinned and wrapped his hand around hers to lead her down the steps to the sand. He wore shorts and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the tanned skin of his arms. But his feet were bare. Chloe found herself staring at them, at the long bones and wide strength and tan toes.

Lust warmed her belly before spreading out
through her limbs, like a flower blooming beneath her skin. Lust inspired by a man's
feet.

“Chloe?” Max ducked down to draw her gaze from the ground. “Are you okay?”

“I am, actually.”

They'd reached his porch, and Max grabbed two glasses of wine from their perch on the railing and gestured toward the steps.

Chloe took a seat and glanced toward the grill. It looked suspiciously inert. Neither smoke nor heat waves shimmered from the air holes. “Is the grill still heating?”

“Oh, I…thought I'd cook on the stove tonight.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Max looked over his shoulder toward the door, then back to the grill. “Um…”

Sipping her wine, she watched as thoughts turned behind his eyes and wondered what he was trying to hide.

He thought for a long moment, his shoulders tightening to rock before he finally answered. “I don't like the grill.”

“You don't like this grill?”

“No, I don't like grills at all. You can turn a stove on and off. A grill stays hot for hours. There are…sparks,” he finished weakly.

“Really?” She tried her best to keep the laughter from her voice. Tried and failed.

“An hour from now a kid could be flying a kite on this beach and stumble right into the grill. How am I supposed to keep from worrying about that?”

“So it's not just water. Or open fires. Or sharks.”

“No.”

In the middle of an amazed laugh, Chloe caught her breath and sat up with a sudden jerk. “Wait a minute.”

Max leaned slightly away from her. “What?” he asked warily.

“How many phobias do you have?”

“I don't have any phobias at all. I'm cautious and protective. That's all.”

“The little boys you helped dig in the sand? Tell me that wasn't some weird sand castle phobia!”

Max scoffed. “Of course not. I'm not a freak, Chloe.”

“So you just like playing with kids?”

“No, I was trying to keep those boys from killing themselves. Do you know how many kids have been suffocated by collapsing sand tunnels in the past twenty years? A kid is way more likely to be killed by a sand collapse than by a shark attack, but no one pays attention to that.”

“My God,” she whispered. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. I saw it on TV
somewhere. I just wanted to let them know that if you were going to dig a sand pit, the walls had to slope out from the bottom or else they'd fall down.”

“Oh, Max. Do you worry about
everything?
”

He shrugged again, and that was answer enough. He must be worn down. He had to be, but it was hard to see the exhaustion past the healthy glow of his tan. Maybe he was even more tired than she was.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She reached over to touch his jaw, then rubbed her thumb against the little hollow beneath his bottom lip. His eyes closed. Funny that he thought she was calm and peaceful. Everyone thought the same thing about him. And together…together it might even be true for both of them. “No, I'm not hungry,” she murmured.

His sleepy brown eyes opened, alive with interest. “No?”

She was still shaking her head when he leaned in to kiss her. And kiss her again. A moment later, Chloe heard the muffled clink of her wineglass hitting the sand at the foot of the stairs. His shirt was crumpled in her fists as she tried to pull him closer, closer.

Her life might never be peaceful again. Once she left this beach, her world might continue to swirl around the drain until she lost herself completely.
But here, with Max, for a moment, all was well.
She
was well.

Though both her hands were wound into his shirt and Max's fingers braced her head for his kisses, they weren't nearly close enough. She didn't want to know where he ended and she began. She wanted to forget there could be space between them.

Chloe stood and eased a leg over his knees, her skirt rising easily with the movement.

“Mmm,” Max murmured as his hands slid down to cup her ass. Before she could settle on his knees, he pulled her closer. Not that she objected. She wouldn't have been bold enough to simply settle onto his lap, but if he was issuing an invitation… Chloe pressed herself against his arousal with a sigh.

“Jesus.” He sighed. “You feel amazing.”

“Maybe you've just been really celibate.”

“Ha. Maybe you've been torturing me in that red bikini.”

She arched her back and pressed into him. “Surely you've seen a lot of girls in bikinis.”

Max's mouth was hot as fire when it touched her neck. Wet fire that sucked at her skin and sent rivers of desire sluicing down her body. “Are you still talking?” he muttered against her pulse.

“No,” she groaned. “Not talking. Just… Oh, man, I want to fuck you.”

He jerked against her just as Chloe realized what
she'd said. “Oh.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God!”

“Chloe Turner,” he scolded, choking on laughter. “What did you say?”

“Nothing!” she squeaked. She would've wiggled away, but his arm was tighter than ever around her waist as his grin stretched impossibly wide.

“Are you trying to kill me, Chloe? You know I've been celibate. I don't need that kind of dirty talk going on while I'm trying not to lose it.”

“Stop,” she begged, even while her eyelids fluttered at the way his erection pushed snugly against her.

“Stop what?” he murmured, rocking gently against her.

“Stop…nothing. Just… Just don't…” He was pressed against the perfect place, his faint movements sending sparks flying through her belly. “Max,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

The wind swirled over her skin as his hand bunched her shirt up, exposing her back to the breeze. This was like a movie, the kind she never thought she'd star in. A sexy romance. A dream scene on a beach with a gorgeous man. And he wanted her. Badly.
Her.
Chloe, who'd lived her whole life beneath the radar. Chloe, who'd become an international joke.

Tonight, she was a romantic heroine.

Screw it. She took a deep breath and framed his face with her hands. “Max Sullivan, I want to have sex with you, and if that rocks your celibate world, so be it.”

“Jesus, now you've done it,” he growled. His hands scooped beneath her, cupping her ass as he stood. She screamed.

“Let's get this done, Chloe Turner.”

“You're going to drop me!” she shouted as he turned and stepped up to the porch.

“Not a chance. If I dropped you, that might postpone the sex for a few minutes.”

“I hope we're not skipping the foreplay.” She squeezed her eyes shut as he eased her past the doorway.

“For you, no.”

“And for you?”

“Is your goal my complete and utter humiliation?”

“Maybe.”

“Then by all means, touch me anywhere you want.”

Laughing, Chloe forgot her fear of being dropped. And since that fear had overridden her nervousness about the sex…now she felt nothing but giddiness and the tight hold of his hands on her ass.

He walked her all the way to the doorway of one of the bedrooms, then let her slide down his body.

“God, you're soft,” he murmured. “And…happy.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “Well, I hope you're happy right now, too.”

“You know what I mean.”

She did know what he meant. And in that moment she knew she should tell him the truth. That her peace was an illusion. A hastily donned disguise. That she wasn't anything he thought she was.

Yes, she should tell him the truth, but she didn't want to, so Chloe nodded and pulled him down for another kiss.

I am peaceful. I am beautiful. I'm calm and confident and definitely not a Bridezilla hated by the whole world. And I am having a vacation fling with an adorable treasure hunter with control issues.

She laughed, still kissing him, and his fingers tightened on her shoulders. When he slid one hand down to curve around her waist, his touch felt rough and desperate and his breath turned to a growl in his throat.

When he pulled her shirt up, Chloe raised her arms without hesitation. A bra was no different from a bikini top, after all…except that it was made of sheer white lace and her skin had gotten nice and tan in the last few days…

Max dropped her shirt and stared down at her, suddenly still.

“What?” Chloe whispered, aware that his eyes were locked on her chest. She started to raise her arms to cover up.

“Are you on the pill?” Max asked in a low tone.

“Oh. Yes, but…I'd still expect you to…”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. “Of course! I just like to know I'm being careful.”

She smiled nervously. Then grinned. Then began to laugh. “Of course you do.”

“Don't laugh.” His mouth twisted into a grimace.

“I'm sorry. It's just that…you're so damn adorable.”

“I think it's actually called an anxiety problem.”

“Shut up,” she ordered, reaching for the hem of his shirt to even the score. “You are total hotness, Max.”

“Well, if you feel that way about it…” He whipped his shirt off and curved his hands around her naked waist to steer her toward the bed. Not that she needed much steering. He used his foot to slam the door and close out the rest of the world.