The Dare Collection March 2019. Rachael Stewart

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      “Maybe not in the past. But you didn’t know me then.”

      This time her laugh was straight-up patronizing. “This conversation is becoming deeply embarrassing.”

      She didn’t say, for you. She didn’t have to say it.

      “I don’t embarrass easily,” Jason replied. He smoothed his hand down the front of his monkey suit, amused when her gaze tracked the movement. And even more entertained when her eyes snapped back to his, her cheeks flushing when she saw he was watching her do it. “You can have my island. And develop it anyway you want, tiki torches and private coves out the ass for all I care. We can sign all these contracts and all the lawyers can wet themselves with this clause and that clause. Whatever. But you and I are going to come to different kind of agreement.”

      She regarded him coolly. “I’m listening.”

      So stuffy. So clipped, like she was the Queen talking down to a dirty peasant. But she should know better. Because she and Jason weren’t that different, underneath it all. He knew all about her now. And he knew that trash like the two of them loved it when they were underestimated. Hell, it gave them life.

      “You already gave me your body once,” he said, low and lazy, like this was a bar instead of a boardroom. “All I want is more.”

      Color stained her cheeks, but Lucinda didn’t flinch. Her cool expression didn’t change at all. “Define ‘more.’”

      “You,” he said, very distinctly and directly. So there could be no mistake. “In my bed. As long as it takes.”

      “As long as it takes to have sex? I think we both know that’s no time at all. Did you really fly all the way here to ask for a quick shag?”

      “For as long as it takes to build your resort,” he said, patient now as he waited for that to sink in.

      The color all over her cheeks deepened. Her eyes narrowed. And at her sides, those adorable little fists grew so tight her knuckles whitened.

      “You understand, of course, that you’re not talking about another night. Or even a week. It will take years.”

      “I understand.”

      Her throat worked. “You can’t possibly want that. You don’t.”

      “I’m pretty sure I asked for it. Explicitly and directly.”

      “Right. You mean you want me in one of your beds. When and if you have the urge. Like your own, personal call girl. Is that it?”

      Jason laughed. “If that’s what you want to call yourself, I’m all for it. I like a little role play.”

      She shuddered, then clearly tried to hide it. “So whenever I’m in the vicinity—”

      “You’re going to spend a lot of time in the vicinity,” Jason interrupted her smoothly. Because this was the key point. “It’s a remote island, Scotland. You’re going to spend so much time there, making it what you want it to be, that really, it doesn’t make sense for you to do anything but move in.”

      Her lovely, lush mouth dropped open. Her blue eyes clouded over with confusion.

      And everything in Jason pulled tight.

      “Move in,” she echoed faintly. “With you.”

      “I can’t think of a better way to get you in my bed every night, can you? Much as I love flying around the planet, it’s kind of a long commute from my island to London.”

      “This is ridiculous. You’re just...taking the piss.”

      He loved it when her accent slipped. When her eyes flashed. When she used expressions he was quite certain weren’t considered strictly appropriate in a business setting. Something she was normally so concerned with.

      Jason was perfectly happy to be the reason she lost her cool.

      “I told you what I want, Lucinda. It’s the only way for you to get your hands on my island. So really, the choice is yours.”

      “What kind of choice is that?” As if she heard her own voice echoing back at her from the glass wall, she cleared her throat. And he watched her pull herself together. He watched her pull that smooth, cool mask into place again. “I imagine you think this is something else I’m likely to balk at. Well, guess again. I can’t say my ambitions have ever extended to becoming some man’s live-in fuck toy, but if that’s what it takes.” She lifted her shoulder, then dropped it, her gaze defiant on his. “I’ll do it.”

      “Then it sounds like we have a deal.”

      “That cottage would be a perfect place to make my base of operations,” Lucinda said, musingly. “When you feel the need to go fishing around in the international model pool, as you tend to do so often, that’s fine. There will be beds aplenty and no need to overlap in any of them. And I’m sure there are hotel bars aplenty in all those resorts on Fiji should I need to scratch an itch.”

      Jason opted not to think too hard on how she’d go about scratching that itch, because if he did he was likely to shatter all that glass that hemmed them in. He considered shattering it anyway, but restrained himself.

      Barely.

      And who knew he had all that greedy possessiveness in him?

      “That’s not how this is going to work, baby,” Jason said instead, his gaze so intent on her that he was surprised she didn’t bow beneath the pressure. “I’m not going to share. Neither are you.”

      Lucinda stared back at him for what felt like a small eternity. Maybe two. He watched that pulse in her throat go nuts. He watched those knuckles get even whiter.

      “Jason. You do realize that what you’re suggesting sounds an awful lot like...”

      She didn’t finish.

      “A relationship?” He laughed. “It does sound like that, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, Lucinda. You don’t have to call it that if it scares you.”

      He expected her to jump on that word and insist that nothing scared her, but she didn’t. Her gaze wheeled around the room and yet he knew, somehow, that she wasn’t seeing a thing.

      “I can’t possibly imagine why you would want such a thing,” she said, sounding something like panicked. “I don’t believe you do.”

      “Believe it.”

      Her mouth actually fell open again, her eyes coming back to his and fixing there in confusion. She started to say something but stopped, almost as if the words weren’t forming the way she wanted them to.

      And all of these were victories, Jason knew. But not the one he wanted.

      “But...” She shook her head. “You don’t do relationships. Ever.”

      “And look where that got me. I might as well be following the Daniel St. George playbook, step by asshole step. It all led to the same place. That’s not the life I want.”

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