Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(28)

The night had cooled, darkness falling like midnight flowers. Removing his coat, Jason settled it over her shoulders. Gratefully Justine pushed her arms through the silk-lined sleeves, his warmth and scent wrapped around her. He took her hand.

There was very little conversation as they walked back to the inn. So much had been said in the past few hours, so much privacy had been willingly discarded. Except that Justine couldn’t think of what she would choose to take back. She tried to figure out the moment when the line had been crossed, when she had revealed too much. But there had been no line. There still wasn’t a line.

As they followed a stone path that led around the back of the inn to her cottage, Justine felt her stomach lift and suspend, as if she were on a plummeting hot-air balloon. Everything was too acute, too sensitive.

Was this how it was supposed to feel, this wrenching attraction that stunned and scared and thrilled all at once? Maybe this was other people’s normal.

God, how do they stand it?

As they approached the cottage, light from an inside lamp shone through a window and scattered in lemon rectangles on the ground. Justine turned to face him at the front threshold. Nervousness had turned her insides into a pinball machine, all rattles and bells and springs.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’ll be up early for a boat checkout with a charter rep.”

“What kind of boat are you leasing?”

“A twenty-two-foot Bayliner. I’m going to take a couple of the guys out for some fishing and touring.”

“There’s not a lot of fishing space on a boat that size.”

“The way we fish,” he said dryly, “it won’t matter.”

“There are some tricky shallows and rocks around here.”

“I can read a chart.”

“That’s good.” She wondered if she should say something about the kiss … kisses … outside the restaurant. Jason remained quiet. Fumbling for the doorknob, she opened the door a few inches and faced him again. “Thanks for dinner. I enjoyed it more than I expected to. That is … I had no expectations. I mean … I didn’t think that you and I—”

“I understand,” Jason said with a slight smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wasn’t going to make a move on her, then. Justine expected to feel relief. But there was only the deflating sense that she was facing yet another long empty night. “I’ll be gone most of tomorrow,” she told him. “I’m visiting a couple of friends on Cauldron Island. A pair of women who live in the old lighthouse.”

“Are you taking a water taxi?”

“No, I have a kayak.”

Jason’s face changed, the amusement fading. “You’re going alone?”

“It’s not far. A couple of miles at most. And it’s a familiar route. I can make it in an hour or less.”

“You have a signaling kit?”

“And a repair kit.”

“You still shouldn’t go alone. I’ll take you on the Bayliner.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “And then how would I get home?”

“I’ll pick you up later. Or if you’d prefer, I’ll send a water taxi.”

“Thanks, but I don’t like waiting to be picked up, or making someone else wait. Really, there’s no need to worry. I like paddling to Cauldron Island. I’ve done it a lot, and I’ve never had any problems.”

“Where are you launching from?”

“Roche Harbor.”

“You’ll be wearing a wet suit?”

His concern over her safety was both flattering and vaguely irritating. She wasn’t used to answering to anyone for her decisions. “No, no one does for a short trip like this. Kayakers around here dress for the air temperature, unless they know they’re going to be facing challenging conditions.”

“You can’t know for certain whether you’re going to face challenging conditions or not. And you could capsize regardless. Wear a wet suit.”

“Wear a wet suit?” Justine repeated. “We’re back to giving orders again?”

Although she could tell that Jason wanted to argue further, he kept his mouth shut. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned to leave.

He was going to walk off without another word?

“I’ll bring up your vodka in a few minutes,” she said.

Jason paused. “Thanks, but I don’t want it tonight,” he said without turning around.

“It’s no problem. And I’m not going to risk being bitch-slapped by Priscilla tomorrow for skipping her instructions.”

Jason returned to her, looking annoyed. “You can skip the vodka if I tell you to skip it.”

“I’ll leave a tray outside your door. You can take it or leave it, but it’s going to be there.”

He gave her a cold stare. “Why would you insist on doing something I’ve just told you not to do? Especially when it’s unnecessary work for you.”

“You’re not refusing the vodka to spare me unnecessary work,” she shot back. “You’re refusing it because you’re pissed at me for taking my kayak out alone tomorrow.”

Jason shouldered his way into the cottage, taking her with him. The jacket slid from her shoulders to the floor. He took her upper arms and hauled her upward until she was forced to stand on her toes. She was pressed all along him, the feel of him electrifying.