Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(16)

“That speculation is useless … that when you focus on the idea of self, and the pleasure of self in heaven, it blocks your view of truth and the eternal.”

“Oh.” Her forehead smoothed out. “So for all you know, you might have a soul.”

He gave her a neutral look and didn’t reply.

“You are an interesting guy,” Justine said, in a way that didn’t sound remotely like a compliment.

“Next round. You know the question.”

She was starting to look nettled, uneasy. “You’re going to ask me the same thing about my boyfriend again?”

“You could lie,” he suggested.

“I’m a bad liar. Ask me something else.”

He shook his head.

“Then give me a dare.” She paused and added with difficulty, “Please.”

Another negative shake. And he watched every visible inch of her skin turn pink.

“Why is it so tough to answer?” he asked.

Although he was pretty certain he already knew.

Justine stood and went to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a roll of plastic wrap. She tore off lengths of wrap with agitated movements, covering the cold plate. “Your question has to do with something I hate talking about, so naturally I’m reluctant.”

“It appears to be more than simple reluctance,” he said, reaching beneath the plastic wrap to steal one last olive. “It seems more like something you can’t talk about.”

Justine picked up the plate, took it to the refrigerator, and shoved it onto a shelf. “I’m going back to my cottage. I have to get up early, and I still have a couple of things to do tonight.”

“Such as?”

“None of your business,” she said curtly. “Leave the kitchen, please, so I can turn out the lights.”

Jason stood, bringing the vodka bottle and the shot glasses to the counter. “You’re going to bail before the game is finished? You owe me an answer … or you have to take the penalty.”

“Well, I can’t answer. And since I didn’t dress in layers and you’ve already gotten my shoes, I can’t take the penalty. It’s a no-win situation.”

They both knew she wanted him to let her off the hook. A gentleman would have.

“We agreed to the rules,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but the point was to get to know something about each other, and … pass the time in a friendly way…”

“What should I have asked you? I’m interested in what makes you uncomfortable.”

“At the moment, that would be you.”

Jason approached her, his gaze flickering to the visible pulse at the base of her throat. Quietly he said, “If you won’t give me an answer, ante up.”

Justine faced him fully, pressing back against the countertop as if she needed it for balance. Her eyes were huge, depths of bittersweet brown swirled with dread and curiosity. As he stood close, he became aware of her trembling.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you,” she said gruffly.

“I’m not going to take your dress.” Slowly Jason lifted a hand and ran his fingertips along the side of her neck. Her skin was silky and impossibly fine. He let his thumb dip gently into the hollow at the front of her throat, where panic throbbed.

Justine stiffened, her face filled with rioting color. “I’ll do it,” she muttered, evidently having come to some conclusion. Reaching beneath the shoulder of her sleeveless dress, she hooked her thumb around a slender white bra strap and pulled it out. With a hasty wriggle, she tugged her elbow through. After repeating the procedure on the other side, she delved beneath the neckline of her dress, unfastened the front closure, and fished out a white bra.

“Here,” she said, a defiant flash in her eyes as she gave him the bra. “Game over.”

Jason took it automatically, his hand closing over the unlined elastic fabric, straps dangling between his fingers. The garment was still permeated with the warmth of her body.

He couldn’t keep from glancing at the front of her dress, where the tips of her br**sts pressed distinctly against the thin cotton. The small act of uncovering something private, holding an article of clothing that had just been stretched intimately around her, stirred the most profane thoughts in him. He wanted to touch her, tease her. He wanted her under him, flushed and writhing. Arousal dilated his veins, his flesh thickening. It was going to become obvious in a few seconds, if he didn’t put an end to this.

He went to the table, bent to scoop up her discarded sandals, and brought them back to her, along with the bra and the folded origami flower.

“I was only going to take down your hair,” he said blandly, which was the truth, and she gave him a sullen glance, her cheeks bright.

“Good night.” She pointed to the door leading back to the hallway. “You’ll have to find your room by yourself.”

He bit back a grin, enjoying her discomfort. “Are you going to bring up my health shake in the morning?”

“No, I’ll give it to Priscilla.” She paused at the back door, her free hand hovering near the light switches. “Go.”

Obligingly he went to the opposite threshold. “Good night,” he said, just as the lights switched off and the back door closed firmly.

Jason went back upstairs at a slow pace, his mind occupied with the revelation of Justine Hoffman.