“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 h
im 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?”