It was only ten o’clock. The boys were going to be awake for a while yet. Taking a bite of the last doughnut, Chloe craned her neck, trying to see if they were on the porch or not. A slightly darker area of shadow on the porch might’ve been one of the men, or it could’ve just been a chair.
She thought of Max frowning down at those dials, thought of the way he’d checked the hoses and tanks over for long minutes before any of them had splashed into the water.
He was none of her business, really. She’d only been single for a few weeks. Even under normal circumstances, that would be too soon for anything, even a fling. But at least the puzzle of Max Sullivan was taking her mind off her own problems.
Chloe dusted off her hands and headed for the men’s cabin.
Aware of the crabs that scuttled frantically around from the moment the sun set, she stepped carefully across the sand, trying not to cringe every time her foot touched something hard.
“Hi,” a deep voice said. Though she could only make out the outline of a man, she recognized Elliott’s voice. The clink of dishes drifted through the window behind him. “Max is inside.”
“Thanks. I just wanted to ask you to keep an eye on the cabin for me. If Jenn comes looking for me, tell her I’m going for a little late-night swim.”
Glass crashed inside the cabin, and before the last pieces had fallen to the floor, Max jerked the door open from inside. “Hey!” he said brightly.
“Um, is everything all right?”
Elliott started to stand up, but Max waved him down. “Everything’s fine.”
Right. Fine. “Okay… I was just going to take a swim, so if you could—”
“Care for company?”
Despite her plan, Chloe couldn’t keep the doubt from her voice. “You want to go swimming? Right now?”
Dish towel still in hand, Max leaned against the doorjamb, pretending casualness. “Sure,” he said, the straight line of his shoulders giving away his tension. “If you’re going to be there.” Enough light filtered from the living room that she could see his flirtatious smile. He aimed it right at her, oozing charm.
Oh, my God, Max Sullivan was a total faker.
Chloe smiled up at him, letting her expression melt a little. “Sure, Max. That’d be great.”
His shoulders dropped half an inch on his next breath. He tossed the towel aside and jogged down the stairs to join her. Some of her analytical detachment faded as he drew closer. She remembered the way his thighs had flexed in those Speedos, as if the muscles were barely contained by his skin. Man.
“It’s a little cool to swim, isn’t it?” he asked, pausing to wait for her to turn and start their walk. It had taken him all of one second to try to change her mind.
“I like it. It feels…thrilling. Tossed around by the waves in the pitch-black.”
“Mmm. Well, sure, I like to swim at night, but I have a special connection with the sharks who swim after dark, too. It comes with the profession, you know.”
“Sharks?” she asked, just as he’d wanted her to.
“Yeah. They like to hunt at night.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “As long as you’re a strong swimmer. The riptides can be a real bitch this time of night.”
“Oh, sure. I’m pretty strong.”
Her feet finally touched damp, packed sand. She turned and followed the waterline, watching Max’s large feet make hollows in the sand next to her.
Max audibly sighed. “So tell me more about your job,” he said.
She tossed him a smile. “I’m an accountant at a big accounting firm. What do you want me to talk about? Spreadsheets?”
“Okay, then. Tell me about your family.”
“I have a mom and a dad and a big sister. I grew up in Richmond in a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence.”