Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(24)

Jason had already broken one of his personal rules: The woman always had to come to him. Since Justine clearly wasn’t going to do that, he would have to do the pursuing. Another rule was that when he was interested in a woman, he would learn as much as possible about her while at the same time revealing as little as possible about himself. Justine would demand mutual risk, mutual honesty. He wasn’t certain how much he could lower his guard, or to what extent he was capable of opening up to anyone. If he wanted her, however, he would have to try. He’d have to unlock doors that had been closed for so long, he would have trouble even finding the key.

It would be a hell of a lot easier just to walk away. He was good at walking away from things he wanted, ignoring temptation, letting the rational part of his brain override emotion. But once in a blue moon, he encountered something or someone he wanted too badly to deny.

Jason went to the doorstep of the cottage behind the inn at one minute before seven, and knocked.

Justine opened the door, all silk and slender curves. “Hi.” Her smiling gaze ran over him. “Come in.”

Jason obeyed, so mesmerized that he nearly tripped over the threshold. She was wearing a short halter dress made of a thin knit fabric, in a shade of peachy-beige that had given him a brief and startling impression of nudity. Her feet were bare, the toenails polished with pink sparkles. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail with one lock wrapped around the fastener.

“I just need to put my shoes on,” Justine said.

Still staring, Jason responded with a wordless nod as she went into an adjoining room. A miniature hook at the top of her dress zipper had been left undone. He couldn’t help imagining pulling the zipper down, the slithering sound as the fabric opened and fell away from the smooth flesh of her back.

Trying to distract himself from erotic thoughts, he focused on his surroundings. The cottage was small and immaculate. The walls and furniture were painted in pastels, the plump sofa piled with oversized pillows covered in striped or flowered fabric, some trimmed with tassels. It was an unapologetically feminine room, but the distressed paint and touches of antique-shop finds made it comfortable and inviting.

Justine returned, wearing sandals with cobweb-fine straps and kitten heels.

“You look beautiful,” Jason said.

“Thank you.”

“I noticed—” He was forced to break off, the words sticking in his throat. “The hook at the back of your dress—if you’d like me to—” He paused again as he saw her blush. Not an ordinary blush, but a deep infusion of color that swept all the way from the bodice of her dress to her hairline. He wanted to follow that visible heat with his mouth and fingertips, kiss her everywhere.

“Yes, thanks,” Justine said, trying to sound casual, not quite managing. “I couldn’t reach it.”

She turned away from him slowly, gathering the gleaming length of her ponytail over one shoulder. Jason’s gaze passed over the fine musculature of her back, the tender nape of her neck with its nearly invisible dusting of down. She had the build of a dancer, slender and flexible.

The ties of the halter-neck bodice were done in a fragile bow. He hesitated, struggling for self-control. When he was able, he reached for the miniature hook-and-eye closure with the caution of a man defusing a bomb.

His knuckles brushed her silky back as he worked at the hook. He felt her stiffen, and excitement crackled through him like the pinging of metal that had heated too rapidly.

“Done,” he said huskily.

She let her ponytail fall back into place. He wanted to grip the glossy length of it in handfuls, wind it around his palms.

Justine faced him, looking up at him with eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate. Heat underscored the silence in a dark, sweet pulse.

“Where are we going?” Justine asked.

It took him a moment to assemble thought into words. “The Coho Restaurant, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites.”

The restaurant was in walking distance, only three blocks from the ferry dock. As Jason accompanied Justine along the quiet sidewalks, he matched his pace to hers, every stride relaxed and unhurried.

They entered the restaurant, a converted Craftsman house that seated only a handful of tables. Gentle flickers of candlelight dappled the white tablecloths. The servers achieved the perfect balance of attentiveness and restraint, appearing at the table when needed, becoming invisible for just the right amount of time.

“Did you have a good meeting with Alex?” Justine asked after the wine was poured.

Jason nodded. “He seems like the right guy for the job.”

“Because…?”

“It’s obvious he cares about the details. His work is good, and he brings projects in on time. And he doesn’t scare easily. We ended the day talking to the lawyers about adding a financial-risk transfer mechanism to the contract. If the project isn’t finished by a specified date, we lose a million-dollar municipal tax credit, and Alex will be on the hook for it. He’s fine with that. He knows he can get it done. I like that kind of confidence.”

Justine looked perturbed. “But if something happens, Alex will be ruined. He wouldn’t be able to come up with a million dollars.”

Jason shrugged. “Big risk, big reward.”

Picking up her wineglass, Justine said, “Well, then. Here’s to obtaining your municipal tax credit.”