Crazy for Love

“Yes,” she answered, which would’ve been ridiculous even if her eyes hadn’t been red from crying. There were photographers outside, after all.

“Chloe, there are paparazzi on the sand!”

Her eyes flickered toward them, the intensity in her gaze flat and dark. “I know.”

“So what the hell is going on?”

As the clicking grew more frantic behind him, she opened the door wider and pulled him in. The door shut out the cameras with a slam. He swung to face her, holding up his palms and hoping an explanation would fall into them.

But Chloe’s jaw was clenched tightly, as if she wouldn’t give up the truth for anything. She looked exhausted and sad, but she didn’t look shocked. She didn’t look like a girl should look when confronted with her first pack of crazed photographers.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

Her gaze met his, hazel eyes unflinching as she stared him down. “You know who I am.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“I’m Chloe Turner. That’s all.”

He pulled his focus from her eyes and looked at the closed curtains shutting out the sight of the beach. “That’s not all you are, clearly. Can we please not pretend that I’m an idiot? What is all this about?”

A soft scuff distracted him from his growing anger, and Max turned to see Jenn getting up from the couch. Offering him a careful nod, she walked slowly toward her bedroom and closed the door behind her.

Chloe was still standing by the front door of the cabin, as if she were frozen to the floorboards. Her face was nearly as pale as the curtains behind her.

“Maybe you should sit down,” he offered, smothering his anger with concern.

She cut a hand through the air, seemingly impatient with his worry. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. A strange starting point.

He crossed his arms and looked at the floor, because he couldn’t watch a woman squirm. He couldn’t stare her down and watch panic inch over her face.

“I was engaged.” Her voice hitched on the last word.

Max felt his heart hitch, as well. “Engaged?”

“Yes. We’d dated for a couple of

years. He asked me to marry him. Then, a month before the wedding, his prop plane crashed into the Great Dismal Swamp.”

He jumped as if someone had swiped a knife over his arm. “Oh, God, Chloe. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He was stepping toward her when her bitter laugh stopped him.

“The plane crashed, but he didn’t. Thomas jumped out with a parachute, then caught a bus to a beach resort in Florida. He faked his own death to avoid marrying me.”

“What? When?”

She bit her lip and twisted her hands together. “A month ago.”

He stepped back so quickly that he almost fell over the couch.

“I know,” she hurried on. “But it feels like a lifetime ago. Honestly—”

“A month ago?”

“Yes, but…it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Really? I’m thinking it’s worse than it sounds, because none of that explains the photographers outside.” Max was shocked at the fury in his own voice. He had no reason to feel such intense anger, but there was a whole host of emotions brewing inside him, and they all seemed intent on pushing anger to the top of the pile. Engaged?

“I…” Chloe’s eyelashes fluttered and her hands hovered helplessly in the air, and the gesture stirred up that mass of emotions in Max’s chest, revealing sympathy and fear.