Crazy For Love. Victoria Dahl
if it had been an accidental touch. His smile disappeared. “Or you could just change your mind.”
When the boat hit a wave and bounced beneath her, Chloe let go of Max and reached for the railing to catch herself. Max didn’t even budge. He was like a pirate, accustomed to life on the high seas, impervious to waves and sea spray and unstable footing. She wished his faded blue tee was an open-collared shirt that could whip around in the wind and reveal his chest.
The roar of the motor dropped down to a low grumble and the boat slowed. “Almost there!” the guide shouted.
Chloe set her shoulders and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. Jenn’s really excited. And so was I until that little freak-out. It’ll be fun. It must be like a whole other planet down there.”
His eyes crinkled. “That’s exactly what it is. Want some help getting your wet suit on?”
“Do you ask all the girls that?”
“It’s my job.”
“Oh, really?”
He tipped his head in concession. “Almost.”
Chloe said, “I think I can handle it on my own,” as she sauntered off. Or as close to sauntering as she could manage as the motor died and the boat began to rock in the gentle waves. She gave up when her thigh slammed into the railing, and took the last two steps just hoping that Max wasn’t watching.
He wasn’t. Max Sullivan was too busy getting ready to dive. The first step appeared to be shucking his baggy swim trunks and T-shirt to get down to the tighter layer underneath.
“Holy ass cheeks, Batman,” Chloe muttered, not caring that she had just taken a seat next to the man’s brother. Chloe didn’t care about anything at that moment but the sight of Max’s thighs outlined in tight Lycra. He was wearing a suit that looked like a Speedo crossed with bike shorts, painted in blue and black deliciousness onto a Greek statue with the ass of a Roman god. Or something like that.
Elliott, seemingly oblivious to her stunned expression of lust, grabbed his duffel bag and walked over to join his brother. When he pulled his shirt over his head, Chloe jabbed Jenn in the ribs. “Ow!”
“Turn around, you idiot!”
“I think the— Oh, my gosh.”
The guys both sat on one of the cushioned benches and began easing the wet suits up their legs. Chloe and Jenn should have been getting ready, too, but they just sat, openmouthed, staring at the peep show. The Sullivan brothers happily obliged them by carrying on a serious conversation.
“We shouldn’t be watching them like this,” Jenn murmured.
“What are they going to do? Call the cops and report us?”
“Still—”
“Shut up. I can’t concentrate with you—”
“Ladies!” the guide boomed, stepping into their line of sight. “Get a move on. It’s time to get wet.”
It sure as heck was. Chloe toed off her tennis shoes and tilted her head to see past Jacob’s body. Max had his suit up to his waist now. But his chest was still bare.
His chest was tanned, sculpted muscle, sprinkled with golden hairs. Not big, bulging muscles, but the muscles of someone who did physical work every day, hefting tanks around and lowering boats into the water and swimming and climbing and—
“Miss Chloe—”
“Oh, all right already,” she grumbled, begrudging the interruption even though Max was zipping the suit up to his neck. She whipped off her shirt and eased her shorts down without standing up. She was an accountant, after all. The heaviest thing she lifted all day was her coffee cup. Her figure was fine, but it wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny when being squeezed into a Neoprene sausage casing. All sorts of rolls and gatherings were bound to appear.
Max wasn’t watching, thank God. He was busy fitting his brother with a tank and talking rapidly as he adjusted the fittings. As a matter of fact, Max didn’t glance over once. She hadn’t wanted to be watched, but she’d expected at least an interested once-over of her bikini.
Elliott’s gaze drifted over to Jenn’s petite body more than once, even as his conversation with his brother continued. But Max didn’t take his eyes off the gear, and Chloe suddenly realized that she’d better get all the adventure out of this dive that she could, because there wasn’t going to be much excitement back at the beach.
Party animal or not, this guy wasn’t that interested in Chloe Turner. Her kryptonite powers were securely in place.
CHLOE CARRIED A COUPLE OF BOTTLES of water and the last two doughnuts out to the darkened porch. There was just enough light squeezing past the curtains to see the chairs, but not enough to interfere with their view of the stars.
“Your phone is beeping,” she said, plopping down into the seat.
“It’s probably just the battery,” Jenn answered, her voice a little hoarse. The return ride had been bumpy, and Jenn had turned faintly green. She was exhausted, but Chloe was still pumped up from excitement.
The dive had been amazing. Absolutely like being on a different planet, as if they were the first people to ever see it, even though the dive site was well-known and heavily trafficked. The wrecked ship had been a steamer from the early twentieth century. It had so intrigued her that she hadn’t begun to notice the fish until five minutes in. Then suddenly they’d become visible to her, sliding in and out of holes and arches. She’d even spied an eel poking its head out cautiously.
Amazing.
And she’d been able to relax and enjoy it all because Max had hovered a few feet above her, moving whenever she’d moved, like a floating guardian angel. He hadn’t explored the site for himself at all, as far as she’d seen.
Frowning, Chloe took a big bite from her doughnut. Something wasn’t adding up. So far, she’d heard several stories about Max being some sort of overgrown good-time guy, but she’d yet to see him instigate any sort of adventure, aside from playing in the sand with a couple of kids.
On the dive trip, he’d made no effort to enjoy himself, he’d just watched and given the occasional thumbs-up to her excited gestures. And the beach fire… He’d deliberately inserted himself into the scene, but instead of building up a ridiculous bonfire as was the instinct of every other man on earth, Max had kept subtle control of the flames at all times. And though the men had fit in an early-morning fishing trip right at sunrise today, Elliott was the one who’d suggested it. So Max didn’t respond to fire, diving, flirtation or fishing.
Maybe he was just bored. Maybe beach bonfires and easy, shallow dives held no excitement for him anymore. But he hadn’t looked bored, he’d looked tense. And that tension had had nothing to do with her, even when she’d wanted it to.
For God’s sake, the man hadn’t even glanced at her in her bikini. Not until after the dive. Then he’d finally relaxed. Then she’d caught him watching her past sleepy lashes as she’d stripped out of her tight wet suit.
Yes, after the dive, Max had been all quiet, good humor and jokes, and “Oh, it’s too bad we won’t be able to fit another one in on this trip,” offered in a suspiciously cheerful voice. The rest of the group had been exhausted and disappointed that the day was over.
Chloe finished off her doughnut and glared at dancing glimmers of moonlight on the sea. Warning sirens were blaring in her head, and after her recent troubles, Chloe was inclined to heed them.
“I’m so tired.” Jenn sighed.
Chloe looked over to the faint outline of Jenn’s profile. Her eyes were closed, her forehead creased. “Are you okay, Jenn?”
“I’m