Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(34)

“I’m tired,” she told him at one point, her head slumped on his chest. “I don’t want to talk.”

“I know, baby. But I can’t let you sleep yet.” His lips brushed the rim of her ear. “What was your favorite toy when you were a little girl?”

A few last shivers ran through her, and his warm hands chased them. “Stuffed animal.”

“What kind?”

“A puppy. The kind with black-and-white spots.”

“Dalmation?”

Justine nodded. “I kept trying to invent spells to make him real.”

“What was his name?”

“Didn’t have one.” She licked at the film of salt on her dry lips. “I knew I couldn’t keep him. Never kept any of my toys. We moved too often. Better not to care.” She made a protesting sound as he eased her upward to a sitting position. “No—”

“Your friend is here with some tea. Lift your head. No, I’m not giving you a choice, you’re going to drink some.”

Justine opened her mouth reluctantly as he pressed the rim of the mug to her lips. She took a tentative swallow. The liquid was warm and heavily sweetened, the honey soothing her throat. She felt its progress all the way into her chest, softening the innermost chill. “Another,” Jason prompted, and she obeyed, her hands lifting to cradle the sides of the mug.

The more she drank, the warmer she felt. With startling rapidity, the temperature under the quilt blazed into a bonfire. She felt as if she’d been sunburned from head to toe. Gasping, she tried to dislodge the quilt to let some cool air inside.

“Stay still,” Jason told her.

“I’m too hot.”

“Your temperature gauge is off. You’re not warm enough by a long shot. Drink more tea and stay under the blanket.”

“For how long?”

“Until you start sweating.”

“I am sweating.” She could feel the dampness between them.

His hand swept along her na**d thigh, resting at her hip. “I’m the one who’s sweating,” he told her. “You’re as dry as a bone.”

As Justine tried to argue, he held the mug against her lips and forced her to drink again.

After bundling Justine more firmly in his lap, Jason turned his attention to Sage and Rosemary, who had both come to occupy the chairs near the sofa. Justine could only imagine what they were making of the situation.

Sage filled the petite upholstered Queen Anne chair like a nesting hummingbird. She was diminutive and pink-cheeked, her white hair framing her face in spun-sugar waves. She beamed at Jason with sky-blue eyes, clearly one blink away from infatuation.

Rosemary’s attitude was far more equivocal. She sat in the chair matching Sage’s and stared at Jason with a narrowed gaze. Whereas Sage was adorable and apple-cheeked, Rosemary was tall, angular, regally beautiful, a lioness in her later years.

In response to their questions, Jason explained that he had taken the boat out with the charter company captain in the morning, when the weather had been overcast but still relatively calm. After a couple of hours of assessment, they had returned to the marina to go over the paperwork. By the time the charter process was completed, the storm surge had started to move in and a weather advisory had been in effect. Priscilla had called Jason before he had left the marina, to tell him that Zoë was concerned about Justine’s safety.

Justine only half listened to the conversation, feeling as if she were on the brink of heatstroke. She was roasting beneath the blanket, held firmly against Jason’s bare chest. When she finished the tea, Jason took the empty mug and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table. The movement drew a stifled gasp from her. Now that she was thawing out, the heat and proximity of him was nearly overwhelming. The thin synthetic layer of his board shorts was all that separated them, making it impossible to ignore the hard masculine contours of his body.

She was acutely aware of her nakedness beneath the blanket, the intimacy of being pressed against him. She didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. Her tense weight settled deeper into his lap, and unnerving darts of pleasure went up her spine. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t keep from squirming. Beneath the quilt, his hand clamped on her hip, holding her immobile. Steaming, trembling, she turned her face against the hot skin of his shoulder.

“Zoë called us when she saw the storm gathering,” Rosemary was saying, “and when I told her that Justine hadn’t arrived yet, we were all very worried.”

Jason explained that he had taken the Bayliner out to look for Justine, and the storm’s escalation had made what should have been a short trip into a prolonged struggle to keep the boat on course. He had eventually seen the bright yellow flash of Justine’s kayak amid the swells, and had gone to pull her out of the water.

“We can never thank you enough,” Sage told him earnestly. “Justine is like a niece to us. We would be devastated if any harm came to her.”

“So would I,” Jason said.

Justine lifted her head to look at him in surprise.

He smiled slightly and touched her face, his thumb stroking over a film of perspiration that had gathered on her cheek. “I think she’s warm enough now,” he said to Rosemary. “I’ll carry her to the bathtub, if you’ll show me the way.”

“I can walk,” Justine said.