The Dare Collection March 2019. Rachael Stewart

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СКАЧАТЬ and snarl, and Jason wanted to tangle himself up in her and see if she left marks.

      Something in him uncurled, then heated.

      “If you don’t want money,” Lucinda said after a moment, her tone too precise, as if she was wrestling herself into submission—which Jason wanted to do himself, “what do you want?”

      “I don’t want anything. And if I did, I’d go get it. I don’t need help from corporate assholes.”

      She looked impatient for a second, but wiped it away in the next. “Everybody wants something, Mr. Kaoki. All you have to do is admit it.”

      He let the things he wanted settle into him, hot and greedy, and made no particular attempt to hide the burn of it as he regarded her. His reward was a splash of deeper color in her telltale cheeks.

      “I don’t need to see your tedious fucking blueprints or pay attention while you yammer at me about secluded coves, lanais for days and forests of tiki torches,” he drawled, aware he was landing hits every time her flush deepened. She was an open book and he was almost positive she didn’t know it. That only made this more fun. “Building some snooty resort here isn’t going to make me happier. So what’s the point? Why would I bother? Hawaii is already occupied. Your fancy clients can go ruin it some more whenever they get the hankering to play colonizer.”

      She didn’t miss a beat. Her eyes were a cool, fathomless blue, like the ocean he loved on a tempestuous day—and there was something about that comparison that rubbed him the wrong way. Like it was settling into him. He tried to shake it off, concentrating on what she was saying instead.

      “Maybe it’s not your happiness we should be concerned with. Think about all the good you could do if you brought jobs and investment to the area.”

      “Baby, I don’t know what you read about me, but my happiness is the only thing I’m concerned with.”

      “You give away more money to local charities than most people in the Pacific Islands will ever make.”

      “That’s a rumor,” Jason replied lightly. “An unproven rumor because people like to think the best about other people. The truth makes them itchy.”

      “People think the best of others? When?” Her laugh made him restless. “I think you’ll find they really don’t.”

      “Whatever. I’m a selfish man, darlin’. I amuse myself and that’s about it. And nothing about ruining this island with another bullshit resort that pollutes the place strikes me as all that amusing.”

      “I had no idea you were such an environmentalist.”

      “I’m not. I’m selfish. I like my beach empty, my jungle wild and my roads clear. The point of a private island is that no one else is on it.”

      “Right.” She seemed to take that on board. Her eyes narrowed as she looked him over, like she was trying to find his weaknesses. He gazed back at her, boneless and unconcerned. “But even selfish men want something.”

      “There’s nothing I want I can’t get, Lucinda. I don’t need to make bargains with strange women. I don’t even need to have this conversation, but that’s the kind of guy I am. Nice to a fucking fault.”

      He grinned at her, letting his edges show again, and he wasn’t entirely surprised when she didn’t look away. She was a lot tougher than the men who’d come here. Or more determined, anyway.

      One more thing that shouldn’t have appealed to him. But Jason had always been a sucker for a little grit.

      “Oh, yes,” she murmured. “You’re very nice. That’s the word I’d choose to describe you.”

      “Feel free to pick a better one.”

      But she didn’t take him up on his invitation. Instead, her body language changed, right there in front of him.

      Jason watched, fascinated, because she didn’t melt. She didn’t go boneless and seductive, or start fiddling with the buttons on that shirt of hers to start flashing him those perfect breasts. The straight edge of her spine didn’t curve in the slightest.

      And yet there was no doubt that something changed.

      He could feel it between them, a thick, humming kind of tension. He told himself he was amused by this latest attempt to get at him, but his cock wasn’t laughing. It was fascinated, too.

      More than fascinated.

      And he was getting hungrier by the moment.

      “Are you offering me something?” he asked.

      Her gaze had turned speculative. And she was tilting her head to one side in a manner designed to make him rock hard and ready. “My understanding is that in the past, you’ve kicked everyone who came here off this island within hours.”

      “Now my buddy just waits at the dock,” Jason agreed, genially enough. “So he can take you right back to Fiji. You can go now, if you want.”

      Her smile was a thing to behold. It wasn’t that polite one she’d been bludgeoning him with since she’d walked in, professional and distant. This one took over her whole face. It was like the sun coming out from behind clouds, the sudden shock of heat and brightness making his chest feel tight.

      All he could think about was tasting that fire. Drowning himself in it. Making her burn hot until she screamed.

      But she thought she was playing him, so Jason didn’t move. He waited.

      “What I want is for you to let me stay,” she told him.

      So very prettily.

      Jason grinned. He’d been hit on by so many beautiful women he’d lost count before he left for college. And he was Hawaiian—technically half-Hawaiian, but he’d never bothered to recognize the haole douche bag tourist who had seduced his mother and left her high and dry—which meant his standards for beauty were pretty damn high. He rarely bothered with corporate types. Sticks up the ass didn’t get him off.

      But everything in him was encouraging him to make an exception in Lucinda’s case.

      “Now, why would I do something like that?” he asked. He let his grin hint at his greed. “What’s in it for me?”

      And then surprised himself by settling back and waiting for her to convince him.

       CHAPTER THREE

      LUCINDA DIDN’T KNOW what the hell she was doing.

      She had always been about a plan. Making a plan, following a plan and sticking to a plan come hell or high water. She researched, she got herself ready and then she executed said plan without ever straying into too much dangerous spontaneity. That strategy had served her well her whole life—but something about this island made her feel outside herself. Inside out, stretched thin, too hot and too exposed, all at once.

      It’s the jet lag, she told herself. But there was the СКАЧАТЬ