Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(12)

“It’s not small talk if it’s someone I want to talk to.”

She gave him a carefully neutral smile. “But you must be tired.”

“I’m always tired.” Jason gripped the back of the chair, lifted it easily with one hand, and placed it near the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, and gestured to the chair. “Have a seat.”

Another command. Justine was half amused, half annoyed, thinking that he was entirely too used to telling people what to do. Why did he want to talk to her? Was he hoping to find out something about Zoë or Alex, something he could use during the negotiations for the Dream Lake development?

“Only for a few minutes,” she said, lowering to the chair. “It’s been a long day.” Pressing her knees together and folding her hands in her lap, she looked at him expectantly.

Jason Black was so darkly beautiful, so striking in his cool self-assurance, that he seemed more like a fantasy figure than an actual human being. He appeared to be on the early side of his thirties, wearing an air of disenchantment like a bulletproof vest. “Too handsome for his own good” was how Priscilla had put it … but it would have been more accurate to say he was too handsome for anyone’s good.

“Why are you staying here?” she asked bluntly. “You could have chartered a luxury yacht and moored it in the harbor. Or gotten a hotel penthouse in Seattle and flown in for the day.”

“I’m not the luxury-yacht type. And the inn looked like the right place for a vacation while we negotiate terms for the Dream Lake project.”

Justine smiled at that. “You’re not on vacation.”

One dark brow lifted slightly. “I’m not?”

“No, a vacation is when you spend entire days doing nothing productive. You take pictures of scenery, buy stuff you don’t need, eat and drink too much, sleep late.”

“That sounds…”—he paused in search of the right word—“grotesque.”

“You don’t like to relax,” she said rather than asked.

“I don’t see the point.”

“Maybe the point is that every now and then you should take a break to look back and enjoy what you’ve accomplished.”

“I haven’t accomplished enough to be able to enjoy it.”

“You’re the head of a big company and you’re a gazillionaire. Most people wouldn’t complain about that.”

“What I meant,” he said evenly, “is that I can’t take credit for the company’s success. I have a good team. And we’ve had some luck.” He took one of the vodka shots and nudged the silver tray toward her. “Here.”

Justine blinked. “You’re asking me to have a drink with you?”

“Yes.”

She gave a disconcerted laugh.

His eyes narrowed. “Why is that funny?”

“Usually when you invite a person to do something, you don’t give orders. ‘Sit there, do this, have that…’”

“How do you want me to say it?”

“You could try something like ‘Would you like to have the other shot of vodka?’”

“But if I asked you that way, you might turn me down.”

“Do you ever get turned down?” she asked skeptically.

“It’s been known to happen.”

“I find that hard to believe. Anyway, I’m not good at following orders. I need to be asked.”

Jason’s gaze was steady and intent on hers. After a moment he asked, “Would you stay and have a drink with me?”

Heat climbed up her cheeks until the skin felt tight and burnished. “Yes, thank you.” She reached out to take the vodka. “Do you usually drink both shots?”

“Sometimes I only need one. It helps me wind down at the end of the day. If I still can’t get to sleep after that, I have the second shot.”

“Have you ever tried herb tea? A hot bath?”

“I’ve tried everything. Pills, progressive relaxation, sleep music, books about golf. I’ve counted sheep until even the sheep can’t stay awake.”

“How long have you had insomnia?”

“Since birth.” Finespun amusement played at the corners of his mouth. “But there are benefits. I’m a champ at online Scrabble. And I’ve seen some great sunrises.”

“Maybe you’ll have luck getting some sleep while you’re here. The island’s quiet, especially at night.”

“I hope so.” But he sounded unconvinced. It wasn’t external stimuli that kept him awake.

Lifting the small glass to her nose, Justine sniffed cautiously and detected a slightly sweet odor like cut hay. “I’ve never had straight vodka before.” A cautious sip of the glacier-cold liquid set her upper lip on fire. “Wow. That burns.”

“Don’t sip it. Take it in one swallow.”

“I can’t,” she protested.

“Yes you can. Breathe out, knock it back, and wait ten or fifteen seconds before breathing in. That keeps it from burning.” To demonstrate, he downed his shot efficiently. She could see the movement of his swallow at the front of his throat, where his skin was smooth and sun glazed.

Tearing her gaze away, Justine concentrated on the tiny glass in her hand. “Here goes nothing,” she said, and expelled her breath. Swallowing the vodka, she tried to hold her breath, but her lungs spasmed as if they were about to explode. Giving up, she took a deep gasp of air, and was instantly sorry as her throat was scorched with wintry fire. She choked, her eyes watering.