Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(23)

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“And try one of those chocolate scones,” Zoë added. “Usually I drizzle a glaze over them, but this time—”

“Stop feeding him,” Justine commanded. “I want to hear more about Jason Black.”

Alex picked up a chocolate scone, his gaze daring her to protest. “He’s all business,” he said. “Very smart, very direct. When he thinks an idea sucks, he lets you know. And when he makes a decision, that’s it. No consensus-building, no compromise, just make it happen. Like most guys at his level, he’s a control freak.”

“Maybe you’ll come to like him later,” Zoë said, bringing him a cup of coffee.

Alex smiled at her optimism and took a swallow of coffee. “I like his project,” he said, “and I like his money. That’s not a bad start.” He sent an amused glance to Justine, who was filling a stainless-steel samovar with water. “You may be interested to know that he wants the Dream Lake cottage.”

“Wants to buy it?” Justine asked, her brows lifting.

Alex nodded. “We had the meeting there and had sandwiches brought in for lunch, and then he asked why the cottage isn’t part of the Dream Lake parcel. So I told him it didn’t belong to me, I was just renting it.” Alex paused to finish the last bite of the chocolate scone, and washed it down with more coffee. “He asked me who owned it, at which point everyone pulled out their phones and tablets. Because whatever he wants, they all make sure he gets it.”

A wide grin broke out on Justine’s face. “What happened when you told him I’m the owner?”

“He looked at me like I’d just turned into a two-headed monkey. Your investment on that place is about to pay off big-time. Don’t sell it for the first number they give you.”

“I may not sell it at all,” Justine said. “With that location, after the institute is built, I could charge a fortune for rent.”

Alex grinned and told Zoë, “Looks like it’s time for us to move.”

Justine shook her head and laughed. “No, as long as Zoë wants to stay there, it’s yours. But I figure you’ll want to move eventually.”

Catching hold of Zoë again, Alex ducked his dark head and said close to her ear, “You want me to build you a house? A little Victorian that looks like a wedding cake?”

Zoë turned to brush her lips against his and smiled as she picked up the tray. “For the next couple of years, you’re going to be more than busy enough developing the Dream Lake property.”

“Let me carry that for you,” Alex said.

“No, just open the door. But please carry Justine’s samovar; it’s really heavy.”

Quickly Alex moved to comply. As he came to take the water-filled container from Justine, she said, “Thanks, Alex.”

He paused to rest the samovar on the counter and said, “About the cottage—don’t hold back on selling it because of Zoë and me. We’ll be happy wherever we live. And it would be a well-deserved windfall, after all you’ve done to help Zoë.”

Justine smiled at him. “I’ll think about it. I’m having dinner with Jason tonight. I’m sure he’ll bring it up.”

Surprise flickered in Alex’s eyes. “He didn’t mention that.” After a brief hesitation, he added, “Be careful, Justine.”

“Why?”

“After spending most of a day around Jason, I can guarantee you he’s the type who arranges the game so he wins every time. I’m going ahead with the business deal, but if I thought about it too much, it would give me the yips.”

“Me, too,” Justine confessed sheepishly.

Alex glanced at her with an arched brow. He hefted the samovar. “Why are you having dinner with him, then?”

“He said he liked me.”

“And?”

“The moment after he said it, I had this feeling that I sort of … almost … liked him, too.”

“Women,” Alex said feelingly, and carried the samovar from the kitchen.

Nine

Most of Jason’s romantic relationships had evolved from situations of convenient proximity … a female executive he’d met at a game-developer conference, or a journalist who’d interviewed him, or a voice actress who’d had to do two hundred hours of recording for an Inari game.

He never let anyone set him up on a blind date, having learned long ago that it was the surest way to kill a friendship. In fact, Jason disliked the very premise of a date, which amounted to making the commitment of an entire evening with someone you didn’t know and most likely wouldn’t want to see again.

His relationships tended to be short-lived. He always ended them by giving the woman a piece of jewelry as a salve for hurt feelings, and it usually worked, except for a couple of times when a woman had told him that the parting gift felt like payment for services rendered. “A f**k-off bracelet,” the last one had called it sourly, sliding the Tiffany diamond bangle onto her slender arm. But she hadn’t given it back.

Justine Hoffman was the first woman he’d met in a long time who he suspected would probably tell him where to shove it, if he gave her a f**k-off present.

Maybe it was just that he’d become so accustomed to receiving admiring attention from women, from having his way too easily and too often, that it was a novelty to encounter a woman who had no desire to become involved with him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Justine. He kept remembering the way she laughed, throaty and natural, tapering down to a luminous grin. Irresistible.