“I’m an officer on a research vessel.”
“Where?” she prodded.
Chloe frowned at her rudeness until Jenn made a picture-taking gesture behind Max’s back. Chloe rolled her eyes and shook her head. No way was this guy with one of the gossip rags. He looked healthy and muscular, not like a man who spent 90 percent of his life huddled outside the doors of L.A. nightclubs. Also, he didn’t have a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
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
