Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(3)

“Is anyone bleeding?” she mumbled, as if half asleep.

“No.”

“Are Nicki and Lauren asking me to help?”

“No.”

“Then they can obviously handle it.” She yawned.

He scowled, knowing kids didn’t always ask for help, even when they could use some. Like the time the football team stuffed him into his gym locker.

“You’re still blocking my sun,” she murmured.

He studied how his shadow stretched across her body, molding to the curves, and felt a jolt of arousal as he imagined his actual body doing the same. “Just enjoying the view.”

The thickening of his voice must have finally woken her. She visibly tensed, then slowly lifted a corner of the magazine to peek up at him. Hazel eyes—Chloe’s eyes—widened with surprise.

“Oh, my God.” She sat upright. “I didn’t realize—” As if finally registering the noise she glanced around him toward the kids. “Lauren, is Nicki okay?”

Luc looked over to see the older girl throwing the rescued fish back into the water while the toddler scrubbed tears off her cheeks. The three boys were laughing as they headed for the pier.

“I’ve got her,” the older girl hollered as she hurried to comfort Nicki.

“I’m so sorry.” Looking up at him, Chloe pressed a hand to her chest as if to still a racing heart. “I didn’t know you were a guest. Um, hello, how can I help you?”

He wanted to say hello back, but his tongue felt tied as he stared at her incredible face. The fullness she’d had as a girl had vanished, revealing high cheekbones and a tapered jaw. Long, dark lashes surrounded eyes that looked bigger than he remembered.

“Are you checking in?” She smiled at him. The smile turned into a grimace, though, when he didn’t answer. “I can’t believe I was so rude. Forgive me. Long day.”

After glancing at his watch, he managed to untie his tongue. “It’s barely past noon.”

“When you work at a B&B, your day starts before dawn.” Laughing, she gestured toward the kids. “Add in these guys, and just getting to noon is a long day.”

As Chloe stood, Luc struggled not to drool over her body, clad in nothing but a string bikini, and her thick, sable hair that fell to her waist.

“If you need to check in, Rory or Chance should be in the office,” she said, reaching for a shirt lying on her beach bag. The gauzy orange fabric did little to hide the body beneath, while the color, combined with her pink swimsuit, brought to mind a juicy sorbet. One he’d dearly love to taste. “Unless they weren’t expecting you until later.”

“I’m not checking in,” he managed to say.

“You’re not? Oh. Then, how can I help you?” She gave him a smile so cordial he blinked in surprise. Chloe Davis, the girl who’d rarely given him the time of day, was smiling at him?

Because she didn’t recognize him.

The realization blazed into his brain. Followed by scenarios that started with a little flirtation, which led to a date and—eventually, hopefully—wild sex, then ended with her royally pissed when he told her who he was and why he was there. As much as he liked the middle part of that fantasy, it wouldn’t help him get his grandmother’s necklace back.

What if he didn’t take it that far, though? Would it hurt to postpone telling her everything for a bit? Just to see if she liked the new Luc Renard? Warming to the idea, he took off the sunglasses, hooked them in the neck of his shirt, and gave her his best smile.

Chloe’s friendly mood dimmed when the stranger went from staring at her to grinning seductively. That was when his physical appearance registered and she pegged him as the kind of guy she avoided like the plague, from the Versace sunglasses and cool dude clothes, down to the TAG Heuer watch. She’d known too many privileged rich guys through the years, from boys to men. Most of them thought they could have anything they wanted, whether it was illegal, unethical, or immoral, because rules didn’t apply to them. She would bet this one was no different.

He was gorgeous, she’d give him that, with a ripped body that would require hours in a gym to maintain. His face had a square jaw, strong cheeks, and yummy green eyes that would curl most girls’ toes. The hair, though, was what really marked him as a guy with too much style and not enough substance. He wore it slightly long and in layers that made it look naturally shaggy, like he just rolled out of bed and ran his hands through it, but she suspected it took a clever stylist to create a look that sexy.

What was he doing here, though? Men, gorgeous or otherwise, rarely came to Pearl Island without a wife or girlfriend at their side. Glancing past him, she didn’t see any signs of a woman. “Well, if you’re not here to check in, how can I help you?”

“Now, there’s an interesting question.” His smile shifted so it looked half amused, half embarrassed, but totally hot. Sheesh, she thought. Did he practice looking humble in the mirror to reel women in? “I don’t suppose we could go inside, out of this sun, to discuss it?”

“I’d love to. Except...” She shrugged. “I can’t right now. I’m babysitting.”

“Babysitting? Then I take it none of these are yours?”

“Heavens no.” She laughed.

“Glad to hear that.” Relief flashed across his face.