Swan dive. Right.
Instead of a smooth, clean entry into the water, she’d landed with a belly flop that had been deafening, knocking the wind from her lungs and leaving her clawing her way to the surface.
Well, she was there now, taking her first breath of freedom after six long, suffocating years. She was never submerging herself like that ever again.
Not for anyone.
“I was actually thinking of relocating,” she said slowly, the idea taking root and sprouting its first leaf. She could do this.
Unless her father was behind Brad’s offer, just like she suspected him of being behind her promotion at the hospital. “Wait, did Daddy call and ask you to hire me?”
Brad’s eyes narrowed for a second or two. “Do you think I’m lying to you, Chloe?”
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been lied to. “No, but...”
“But what?”
She licked her lips. “I don’t want you doing this because you feel sorry for me.” As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t seem to hold his gaze, fiddling with her chopsticks instead. “I’m filing for divorce.”
“I’m glad.”
The low voice caused her head to come up. Some knowing glimmer in the depths of Brad’s eyes caused her to bristle. As if he’d expected this outcome all along. “You and Jason never gave him a chance.”
“No. But you did.”
Yes, and now her brother and Brad were free to gloat about her stupidity behind her back. Wouldn’t she, if she were in their place?
Instead, his hand covered hers, the warmth seeping through her icy skin. “Whatever else you might think, I wanted it to work out. Wanted you to be happy.”
Just as Jason had. He’d kissed her cheek at the rehearsal dinner and whispered that very thing. “Be happy, little sis.”
She swallowed the wave of emotion. Brad had always been there for her, even though he’d never been loud and showy about it. He had always been one of the first people on the scene when something had happened—whether it had been when her sickly appendix had needed to come out, or standing beside her as she’d cried over the grave of Treehouse, her dog.
And later he and Jason had accompanied her on her first official post PADI certification dive off the New Jersey coast, and they’d later explored several local shipwreck sites. She blinked away memories of those muscular legs propelling him through the water with ease, of his fingers gripping hers as he’d tugged her away from areas he’d felt were too dangerous. He’d had no idea that he’d been the most dangerous thing in the ocean. At least to her equilibrium.
Despite those awkward moments, she’d always been able to count on him. Maybe it was time she returned the favor. If he really was in a bind, shouldn’t she be willing to lend a hand?
“Thank you.” She sighed. “About the position. I would imagine there’d be plenty of nurses ready to jump at the chance to work at Angel’s.” She loved the hospital’s nickname, loved how it seemed to fit, as if the hospital served as the guardian angel of sick children everywhere.
Brad sat back in his chair. “There are, but it’ll take time to put out a call for applications and then wade through them all.”
“What about an apartment? There’s no way I can commute from Hartford.” Neither would she want to.
“I thought you might consider staying here. I have an extra bedroom. I’m sure we could stay out of each other’s hair.”
She bit her lip. Speaking of bedrooms, she’d noticed there was no way to lock the door of his room. Oh, there was a keyhole, but no key to secure it that she could see. The same held true for the bathroom. When she’d looked at the other doors—with the exception of the front door—she’d found the same thing. No keys for any of them. He lived alone, so he probably didn’t think anything of it, but if she stayed here she wanted to be able to at least lock the bathroom.
His voice broke through. “What are you thinking?”
She scrambled around for an answer and finally just blurted it out. “Where are your keys?”
“Keys?”
“For all your doors.”
His face went utterly still for a second or two then he shrugged. “There’s no one else living here, so I haven’t felt the need to mess with them.”
Just as she’d thought. “But you do have them somewhere, right?”
“I do.” There was something strange about the way he answered her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it so she tried a different tack.
“Well, what about your life? I don’t want to disrupt whatever you’ve got going on by staying here.” She stopped again when his frown deepened. “Are you...um, seeing someone?”
The lines between his brows eased, and one corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not at the moment.”
“Oh.”
“Even if that situation changes, the apartment has thick walls.”
Heat swept up her neck and threatened to shoot from her ears. In other words, she wouldn’t hear anything that went on. Maybe not, but her imagination would fill in the blanks. “Are you sure you want me staying—”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.” His brows went up. “Unless you don’t think you can handle it.”
The battle cry from their younger years hung in the air between them. The only time she hadn’t risen to one of those challenges had been when he’d rolled up next to her on his motorcycle, fresh from getting his medical license, and had dared her to take a victory lap around town with him. The thought of being pressed tight against his back, her inner thighs gripping his, had made something dangerous shimmy through her abdomen—the exact sensation she’d experienced when they’d danced at her wedding. It had brought a wariness that was even stronger than her fear of motorcycles.
She’d gulped before chickening out—blaming it on his long-forgotten accident in high school.
And now? Was she still chicken?
With those light green eyes watching her every move, trying to ferret out any exposed weakness? She’d vowed to give herself a brand-new start. To do that—and to survive her time with Brad—she needed to live by a whole new set of rules. His. And if he could throw down the gauntlet, she would just pick it up and twirl it over her head.
Dropping her chopsticks onto her plate, she leaned forward, all too aware that she was dressed in the man’s clothes and was about to agree to live in his home. But that was small potatoes. She’d survived the horror of knowing he’d seen her body in all its questionable glory last night—and he’d evidently been unmoved by the sight. So they were good to go.
“As long as I can have a key to my bedroom and the bathroom, I think I can handle it all right,” she said sweetly. “But...can you?”
THE JEANS FIT PERFECTLY.
Of course they would. Brad could probably tell a woman’s clothing size with a single glance. And the smoky-green belted top did make the blue of her eyes stand out. She couldn’t remember