“Think about it, Nick. If you blow this, we lose the opportunity.”

Nick wanted to tell the man to go to hell. Instead, he paused in the doorway. He couldn’t speak, but he finally nodded his head before exiting the office. Nick wasn’t sure where he was heading, but he knew he couldn’t go back home―not yet. If he went anywhere near Chloe while he was so pissed off, he might do something he would surely regret. Nick felt gutted. There was no other word for it.

He also felt achingly alone. Yes, he could turn to his brothers―to anyone in his family, but the one person he really wanted to go to was the woman he couldn’t. His heart ached.

Turning, he began walking to the beach. At least that was a constant in his life. The sea would never let him down. He understood the sea. He knew better than most that she was unpredictable and moody. He knew she would be honest with him. She could lure him in with her beauty and lulling waves. And then at the first moment she could, and she would, pull him down.

Knowing that about his beloved sea made him realize that he understood something about Chloe as well. She had managed to get to him and then she’d sucked him under. He hadn’t been expecting her to turn on him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

It was late in the evening when Nick felt calm enough to go back home. He’d been gone a lot longer than he’d told Chloe he was going to be, and he knew she would be wondering what was going on. He didn’t care. Let her wonder. She’d lied to him and he’d been nothing but good to her.

One thing Nick knew for sure was that he wouldn’t be able to pull off the act of pretending there was nothing wrong. He’d never been a man who could openly lie. If there was a problem, he’d much rather face it head on. That was just who he was. He didn’t want to allow a woman to change that about himself. He wouldn’t let that happen.

When he pulled up to his place, though, he found himself sitting in his old Ford pickup truck wondering what he was going to say to her. Was she going to have a smile on her face, her arms open wide to him? Could he resist her if she did?

Somehow he didn’t think that would be a problem. Sure, she’d stopped fighting him―for the most part―about their . . . relationship. He couldn’t even call it that. They hadn’t agreed to anything formal. Hell, she’d barely agreed to sleep with him without a fight. But they were involved. He wondered how much of it had been an act.

The thought made him want to put his fist through the worn dashboard of his truck. That almost brought a smile to his lips. His brothers made fun of him all the time, that he chose to drive the outdated truck when he had enough money to buy out a car dealership. He didn’t care. There were some things a man just didn’t mess with―his transportation being the top of that list.

Finally, he decided he needed to look at her face, needed to figure out what she was thinking―feeling. She’d known he was meeting with his attorney that day. Had she been afraid? Had she worried he’d figure out who was behind the accusations sooner, rather than later? Had she realized that he eventually would put the pieces together? Had she been hoping she’d be gone when that happened?

She really should have been out of his home already. He didn’t really need her services anymore. He’d just been afraid that the moment he freed her, she would run away and what they had together would be forgotten, so he’d been the one to delay letting her go. Maybe he was just as big a liar as she was. That thought didn’t sit too well in his already aching stomach. Walking into the house, he didn’t find her. Moving through the large space, he found himself beginning to worry. Had she left? Was she going to be gone before he got a chance to get an explanation from her? He was owed something. But if she were proven a liar, what good would having her around really be?

She was nowhere in the house. He went to her room, and didn’t take his first full breath until he saw her clothes hanging in the closet, her toiletries sitting neatly on the bathroom counter. She hadn’t left. The only place she could be was the dock. She often went there.

Walking much more quickly than he had when he’d made the first trek down to the dock with her by his side, he glided along the trail. He stopped when he turned the corner, his chest pounding when he saw her there, sitting on the end of the dock, her feet dangling over the edge, drifting in the water.

He wished the sight of her didn’t take his breath away―wished she didn’t affect him as much as she did. The woman had proven she couldn’t be trusted, and though his brain was quite aware of that fact, the rest of his body, though, wasn’t quite catching on. He had better pull it together.

Moving again, he saw her shoulders tighten up as he drew near. She was very aware of his presence, just as he always knew when she was near him. It was a blessing and a curse―far more of a curse now that he knew she was connected to his accuser.

Nick sat down next to her. His shoes came off, he rolled his pants up, and he dipped his feet in the water. He didn’t say a word. He wanted to know what she was thinking . . . what she knew of his meeting that day.

He might not be able to pull off a deception easily, but he certainly could keep quiet for extended periods of time. Long moments passed with both of them looking out at the sun setting on the smooth water. She didn’t reach for him, and surprisingly he didn’t reach for her.

What frustrated him more than ever was how much he wanted to touch her―how much he wanted to feel the silky smoothness of her skin. What did she know? That thought repeated through his brain, thundered with every beat of his heart. How much of this was all a joke to her? Had she cared about him at all?