Lie to Me (Pearl Island Trilogy #4)(48)

“I didn’t—” he started, but she was right. He had wanted to see if she would find the new him attractive. “It’s not like that. I’d never treat you that way.”

“But you did!” she shouted. “How dare you pretend you’re different when the only things you care about are getting laid and getting your necklace back. You may have gotten the first, but you’ll get the necklace over my dead body.” Turning away, she raised the sketchpad over her head.

“No!” He lunged for it, his body colliding with hers just as her arm started to move. She stumbled as the sketchpad left her hand, its pages fluttering as it flew through the air. He rushed past her, trying to grab it. A gust of wind caught it, propelling it farther out into the cove than it could have gone on its own. He lunged in desperation to save that piece of his life’s work.

The pier suddenly vanished under his feet. He felt himself falling as a wave surged up, snatching the sketch pad from the air. Terror seized him as he hit the water and sank.





Chapter 13





Chloe stared in shock as Luc’s body, fully clothed, vanished into the churning water. Lightning cracked through the air as the first fat drops of rain reached the island. Luc’s head popped back up, his hands pawing frantically as he sucked in air and slipped back under.

Oh, dear God. He couldn’t swim!

Kicking off her shoes and ripping off her shirt, she dove in after him. Aiming straight for the spot where he’d gone under, she collided with him on entry, sparing her from having to search. Going by feel, she tried to get a hold on the collar of his shirt. Before she could, his arms closed about her, clamping her arms to her sides.

She wiggled to break his hold, but couldn’t. In the struggle, she lost her sense of direction. Opening her eyes stung like hell, but she got her bearings and kicked in an effort to propel them upward. Try as she might, they made no progress.

She twisted and turned, but couldn’t get free. Her lungs started to burn for air. Frantic, she worked her knees up between them and pushed until she broke his hold.

Kicking at him, she managed to avoid his grasping hands long enough to get behind him and grab his shirt collar. Swimming harder than she’d ever swam in her life, she dragged him upward. They broke the surface, both of them gasping for air. Waves and rain slapped her face, nearly blinding her. Choking, Luc twisted, reaching for her.

To keep from getting trapped in his grip a second time, she wrapped an arm around his neck, bringing his back against the front of her. He thrashed, clawing at her arm.

“Stop fighting me,” she shouted near his ear. “I’ve got you.”

He continued to thrash and choke as she swam, one-armed and backward, in the direction of the pier. When she didn’t reach it in a few strokes, she glanced behind her and wanted to curse. She’d mistakenly aimed for the beach, a much longer distance and far more dangerous with the storm tide, but she’d already taken them too far to change course now.

With his legs hampering her kicks, and her one free arm already burning, she felt a stab of fear. A few more hard strokes had her muscles screaming as she battled both the waves and Luc.

“Luc, relax!” she pleaded desperately. “Let me do the swimming.”

Thankfully, his struggles slowed. He didn’t relax, but at least he stopped fighting her. One stroke at a time, she got them close enough to the shore to be almost free of the undertow.

“We made it,” she told him, panting in relief. “You can stand.”

They stood in water that came to her waist and his hips. The tide tried to pull them back out. With Luc struggling to breathe, she wrapped her arms around him to help him. Together, they slogged their way through the surging current and crashing waves until they reached the rain-soaked beach.

He dropped to his hands and knees, coughing hard.

The rain pounded down on both of them as she knelt beside him, her hand on his heaving back. “Relax. Try to breathe slowly.”

“My sketchpad,” he gasped. “Save my sketchpad.”

Glancing over her shoulder at the waves crashing against the shore beneath a stormy sky, she saw no sign of it. A strange grief welled up inside her, despite her earlier fury. “I’m so sorry,” she told him. “It’s gone.”

“Damn you,” he ground out. Turning his head sideways, he glared at her as if he hated her. “You destroyed my sketchpad.”

“I didn’t,” she insisted.

“You threw it in the water!”

“No,” she told him, conflicting emotions gripping her chest. “I didn’t.”

“I saw you throw it!” He turned so he sat in the sand facing her, soaked with seawater and rain. “How can you say you didn’t?”

“I was only going to throw it down.”

“Then how the hell do you explain that?” He flung an arm toward the cove.

“You ran into me,” she insisted, anger returning as she remembered why she’d wanted to throw it.

“You’re saying it’s my fault?” He rose to his feet, took a few stumbling steps toward the water, then stopped. His body shivered as if from cold. Far more cold than a spring storm warranted. “God damn it!” He kicked at the hard-packed sand near the water’s edge. Another shiver racked his body. His eyes as furious as the storm, he whirled back to her. “I will never forgive you for this. Ever!”