Crazy for Love

by Victoria Dahl

  Her boss was letting her work from home for a while, mostly because he’d been supremely irritated by the photographers outside the front door of the office. After this all died down, Chloe was pretty sure she’d be let go. Her work had gotten sloppy. Her boss was an old-school, no-nonsense accountant. He didn’t find this little media frenzy at all exciting.

  Chloe crawled back through her door and slammed it behind her. For one heartbeat, she thought she’d broken the pane of glass in the door, but the sharp, musical sound went on too long and she realized that her phone was ringing. It was the landline, which hadn’t been tracked down by the press yet, because it was under her landlady’s name. Only a few people had that number…

  She raced for the receiver and answered with a breathless hello.

  “May I please speak with Chloe?”

  Max’s phone voice was a little different from his regular voice, softened with a touch more Virginia twang.

  “It’s me. Hi, Max.”

  “Hey, there, Chloe. How are you doing?”

  “Great,” she answered, only a little irony peeking through.

  “I don’t want to be weird…”

  “Okay.” A smile tugging at her face, she raised a curious eyebrow.

  “I was worried about you.”

  “That’s okay, too.”

  “So I thought I’d come by and see how you’re doing. But maybe this is a bad time?”

  A bad time? Her pulse surged into overdrive, heart beating so hard it should’ve hurt. But it didn’t hurt at all. “Right now?”

  “I just checked into a hotel downtown. Is that near you?”

  “It’s not far. But it’s hard for me to get away before dark. The, uh, cameras…” Wow, could she be a worse date?

  “Would it be better if I came over there?”

  She glanced at the clock. It was only three, and she didn’t want to wait, but she had more worries than the paparazzi. Her place was a mess and her legs needed shaving in a very bad way. Bouncing on her toes with anticipation, Chloe squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. He wanted normal, and she’d do her best to give it to him. She wasn’t a panic-attacked sideshow freak. She was cool as a cucumber. “If you’re willing to bring dinner, I could fit you in around eight.”

  There was a soft sound on the other side of the line. It sounded very much like a relieved sigh. “Is Chinese okay?”

  In answer, she gave him the address, her voice steady and cheerful and normal as hell. Then she hung up and threw the phone hard at her couch before dancing around her small room. Oh, yes, she could make it until Monday. She could make it real good.

  MAX WAS NERVOUS. Like, going-out-on-a-first-date nervous. It made no sense, of course. He and Chloe had already gone out several times, not to mention all that mind-blowing sex they’d had. Funny that you could lose count of that sort of thing when it was spread out over only three days, but several of those encounters had run together into one long night.

  He rubbed his palms against his jeans and craned his neck to see where the taxi driver was taking him.

  Her address was 410½, so he’d envisioned her living in one of the refurbished town houses that made up the residential area west of downtown Richmond. They were charming and beautiful and quirky, all jammed in together on tree-lined streets. She probably lived on the top floor, and he could see her curled up in a little window seat, reading in the shade of an ancient oak.

  She and Jenn would walk to dinner on their girls’ nights out. On Sundays, Chloe probably went to her parents’ house for a barbecue. Yeah, there was nothing insane or alarming about these little streets.

  But the cab rolled past that neighborhood and entered an area of well-kept antebellum mansions. Every house was large and stately, though each stood out as different from its neighbor. Some were white stone with pillars, hemmed in by rock walls. Some were aging brick, the darkness relieved by whitewashed balustrades and balconies.

  Max frowned at them all, confused by the transition.

  The cab slowed with an ear-piercing squeal of worn brakes. “Here’s 410. The ½ must be in the back. Want me to try to find an alley?”

  Max cast a doubtful eye around. The house was only one lot from the corner. If there were an alley, Max could find it. The lampposts along the street were lit and the sun hadn’t quite finished setting. He paid the driver, grabbed the bag of Chinese food and found himself standing in front of a mansion that had seen better days. In fact, those better days may have been in the mid-nineteenth century.

  This house was… Max squinted through the overgrown vegetation—red brick. Or maybe it was brownstone. He couldn’t see much past the ivy and moss. The front yard had reverted to old Richmond. Really old Richmond. Like back when only native Americans had lived on this land.

  Was this some ancestral family home? Max looked up the street, then down. He found no clue waiting for him, but he didn’t see any photographers, either.

  He took a few wary steps toward the wrought-iron gate. Unlike most of the fences on this block, this one rose high. Eight feet high. He reached gingerly for the handle of the gate, but it didn’t respond to his first careful nudge. After trying to no avail, Max shrugged and threw his whole weight into it. The latch finally snapped up and the gate slipped open a foot, screaming against the scarred cement beneath.

  “Christ,” he muttered, wondering if you could get tetanus if you didn’t actually have a cut. He wiped a few of the rust flakes off his hand and stepped back, giving up. He clearly needed to go around to the back. Nobody had used this entrance in years. Just as he reached out to tug the gate back into place, a very distinctive clack broke through the silence. Someone had just dropped a chamber into a shotgun. And that someone was very close.

  Max’s blood froze in his veins and he was stuck like that, two fingers on the gate and eyes wide as saucers.

  “You’d better get the hell out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Um.” His eyes rolled, but he couldn’t see anything past the overgrown bushes. “Damn patterazzi.”

  Paparazzi. Someone thought he was a reporter. “I’m not—” A deep, dark growl interrupted him, and Max looked down to see a vicious black dog only inches from his legs. A dark rumble of warning bubbled up from its throat while its jowls quivered. “Oh, fuck.” Max dropped the sack of food and slowly raised both his hands as he eased backward. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are, but I’m here to see Chloe Turner.”

  “I’ll bet you are!”

  “She invited me over, ma’am. I apologize about the mixup. If you can just tell me how to get to 410½, I’ll be on my—”

  “Mrs. Schlessing!” Chloe shouted from somewhere within the thicket. “Mrs. Schlessing, that’s Max! He’s my guest.”

  A head of gray, curly hair poked out from the bush on the left. “You sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chloe suddenly jogged into view, her cheeks flushed and her hair bouncing from the run. “Brutus,” she ordered in a low voice. “Heel.” The dog spun, its growl morphing into a happy yelp as he trotted back to the old woman.

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe panted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I should have told you to come through the back.” She cringed deliberately and tilted her head in Mrs. Schlessing’s direction. The woman, apparently satisfied with her work, had already headed back into the jungle, a flash of pink housedress his last glimpse of her.

  Chloe slipped through the gate and tugged it shut behind her. “Come on. I’ll show you the way.” She picked up the bag before heading off.

  Max took a few steps with her, then stopped and turned to face her. “What the hell was that?”

  “That was Mrs. Schlessing. I rent the apartment from her.”

  “Okay, but…what the hell was that?”

  “Oh.” She looked over her shoulder toward the gate, and her face grew even brighter red. “Sorry. It’s just that we’ve had a lot of trouble with people trying to sneak in. She wouldn’t have s
hot you, really.”

  This wasn’t the reunion he’d been expecting. Not at all. This was…crazy. But then, he’d known he was fooling himself, hadn’t he? Oh, he hadn’t expected shotgun and mad-dog kind of insanity, but he hadn’t truly believed he’d find her snuggled into a cozy window seat, waiting for a homemade apple pie to finish cooling.

  He’d warned himself not to come, but here he was. Max faced forward and resumed their walk, taking the food from her like the gentleman his mother had raised him to be.

  “So I see you live in a haunted house.”

  This time she smiled, and the tightness inside Max loosened by a few degrees. God, she was pretty. And soft. None of that had been affected by her crazy life. “I don’t live in the haunted part of it. I have the carriage house.”

  “What a relief.”

  “Max…thank you for coming.” Chloe took his hand, waking up nerves in it he hadn’t ever been aware of before. Like the nerves where her fingers slid in between his, setting off a shivery pleasure. Apparently, that part of his skin was incredibly sensitive. How could he never have noticed?

  She smiled up at him again as they ducked around the corner. And God, she looked so happy that even with the dog and the shotgun and the crazy old lady, Max couldn’t believe he’d come close to telling his brother to forget the detour and drive straight to D.C. Chloe’s happy eyes were everything in that moment, and Max followed her into the dark alley without a whisper of hesitation.

  She hurried him toward a wooden gate just as tall as the wrought-iron one, and Max braced himself for thorns and grasping vines. He was more than a little surprised when they emerged into a very normal backyard, lit by harmless porch lights. No giant spiderwebs. No creeping zombies. “Nobody uses the front,” she explained needlessly. “It’s just Mrs. Schlessing in the house now, and she doesn’t like people much.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “It’s private here,” she said, gesturing toward the backyard before she led him up a set of rickety wooden stairs. “This is my place. The paparazzi are gone for the night. Nothing ever happens here after dark. Not till now anyway. Er, not that I think we’re going to… Hey, here we are.”

  She opened a huge wooden door. The window in it was shielded by a blue curtain.

  Once he stepped inside, Max was surprised again. He’d still been expecting quaint, but he had no idea why. Chloe was living in an overstuffed dorm room. Moving boxes were piled along one wall, leaking the occasional extension cord or shoelace between the seams. The coffee table was made of wooden crates. Literally.

  “Oh. It’s nice.”

  She stiffened and slid her hand out of his. “I lived in a house before. A nice house. But I had to move out with no notice.”

  “Sure, I understand.”

  “I couldn’t move into my parents’ place. The photographers… It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Come on. It’s great.” He gestured as if it were a grand loft and not a tiny 300-square-foot room. “Reminds me of living on the ship.”

  “Right.”

  “Are you hungry?” He held up the bag and gestured toward the little round table that marked the boundary between the kitchen half of the room and the living-room half. “You know, if you add some raised edges to the cabinets, your plates won’t slide off when the sea gets rough.”

  “Oh, that’s funny.”

  She smiled, but he’d hurt her feelings. He could tell by the tight distance in that grin. Regret hit Max hard. Yes, her life was a mess, but she was living the immediate aftermath of a personal disaster. He put the bag onto the table and turned to her.

  “I’m sorry. You’ve got all this going on. I probably shouldn’t have come.”

  The hurt deepened on her face, turning her mouth down.

  Max shook his head. Where the hell was all his charm? He’d lost it somewhere back on that island. “But…I just wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  Why? Why, indeed? Some of it was out of a sense of responsibility. Some of it stemmed from worry. And some of it was just the truth. So Max chose to give her the truth, even though it felt as frightening as each time he set foot back on the ship. “Because,” he said. “I missed you.”

  THE WORDS DIDN’T SLAM through her. They didn’t stop her breath and send her heart racing into overdrive. Instead, Max’s words slid over her skin like a question. A tentative touch. She waited to see what she would feel.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Was that weird?”

  Chloe cocked her head, waiting… Finally, her skin grew warm in answer. Her nerves thrilled gently. She felt suffused with a quiet happiness. “No,” she finally answered. “No, it wasn’t weird. I missed you, too.”

  She didn’t realize how tense Max’s smile had become until it relaxed. “Really?”

  “I did,” she answered. As if to prove it, her body swayed toward him of its own volition. Max met her in the middle, his mouth taking hers in a kiss that started soft and escalated to deep and hot within a few seconds.

  And from then on, none of it mattered. Not her worries over her life or Max’s reaction to it. Because he was here, and she wasn’t alone.

  She held tightly to his body, wishing she could simply melt into him and stay warm and safe inside him. But the second-best option was to have him warm and safe inside her, so Chloe tugged him toward the bedroom. He hesitated for a moment, to edge her to the side and reach around to lock the apartment door.

  His paranoia made her smile as she nibbled at his bottom lip. She gave up his mouth to tug his shirt up and off, then reached for the button of his jeans. When her hand brushed his stomach, the muscles jumped, reminding her that she didn’t know much about him. Was he ticklish? Where did he like to be kissed and stroked?

  She pulled him to her bed and pushed him down on his back, determined to find out.

  Max raised an eyebrow. “Am I being taken advantage of?”

  “Strange city. No car. A vicious dog between you and freedom. You’re mine now and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Eyes narrowing, he swept his gaze down her body as she started unbuttoning her sleeveless shirt. “What are you planning to do with me?”

  Chloe let the shirt slide off her arms and stood straight to maintain the illusion of rock-hard abs as she unzipped her jeans. “I’m going to find out how much you missed me.”

  If she was going to be cast as the wild girl, she’d damn well play the part, so Chloe put her hands on either side of Max’s knees and crawled up the bed to have a comfortable seat on his lap. When she settled herself against his erection, she took his wrists in her hands and pressed them into the bed.

  “Ooh. Seems like you missed me a little bit.” She wriggled her hips against his. “A little?”

  “Mmm.” Leaning slowly over, she opened her mouth on his chin and pressed her teeth into his flesh. He inhaled sharply, hips tilting up to hers. Power zinged through her, flashing into her like water over parched earth. She’d hardly touched him and already, her body was going tight with lust.

  She nibbled her way along his jawline, pressing his hands down hard. “You don’t feel like a man left in desperate straits.”

  “Liar,” he muttered, thrusting hard against her.

  “Mmm. Maybe you missed me a…medium amount.”

  “Shit,” he muttered as she sucked at a tender spot on his neck. “You’re cruel.”

  When she pressed her naked stomach against his, they both sighed. The sensation was so sweet that Chloe simply laid her body against his for a long moment, feeling their hearts beating against each other.

  “Chloe,” Max said, twisting his arms to loosen her grip.

  “No, not yet.” If he wrapped himself around her and held her close…she’d be lost. She felt too much for him already. So Chloe lifted herself an inch off him and kissed her way down his chest. Curious, she ran her tongue around his nipple and watched goose bumps spring up around it. “Does that tickle?”

  “Yes!”
r />   “And this?” She sucked gently and scraped her teeth against him.

  “Ah! Yes. No.”

  “Hmm.” Taking her time with the exploration, she brushed her lips over the crisp brown hair of his chest, then tested for ticklish spots with her tongue and teeth, all the while pressing herself rhythmically against his erection. “I’m still not convinced that you truly missed me.”

  “Slide your mouth a little lower, and you’ll know for sure.”

  “Really?” Chloe rose up and rested her ass against his thighs as she released his wrists. “All right then. Show me.”

  Surprise flared in his eyes, but it was quickly swallowed up by heat. Max reached for his zipper and Chloe tried to hide the way her breath quickened. But when he pulled his cock free, a sigh slipped from her lips. His hand circled the shaft and he gave himself one slow stroke while she watched. Her sex squeezed in sympathetic response. This felt dirtier than anything she’d ever done. And when Max reached for her hand and wrapped it around that hot flesh, her whole body shuddered. He was unbelievable heavy in her palm, and when Chloe tightened her fingers, there wasn’t even a hint of yielding flesh.

  She snuck a glance past her lashes and found Max’s gaze locked on her grip, his lips slightly parted, eyes lit with hard need.

  “This much, hmm?”

  “Yes,” he answered gruffly.

  “Oh, my.” Chloe scooted backward, sliding her hand all the way down to the thick base of his shaft. Watching his face the entire time, Chloe lowered her head and touched the tip of her tongue to his flesh. He grabbed a handful of the blanket as she slipped her tongue over him, pressing it to the underside of the head. When she closed her lips around him and sucked gently, he let loose the breath he’d been holding.

  She teased him for a long time before she slid deeper in tiny increments. She loved the taste of him, the scent of his body, the smoothness of him against her mouth. And she loved the way his stomach tightened with every curl of her tongue. He was sensitive to every increase in pressure and pace. With Max, a blow job seemed designed for her pleasure, not his. With a moan of need, she took him as deep as she could, swallowing against the weight of his cock.