get his hands in it. He wanted to see how all that fire smelled now that the sun and the sea had gotten in there and tugged a few strands free. He wanted to bury his face in its thickness and see how hard that got him.
Just to pull up a few urges at random.
What he couldn’t tell from looking at her was if she knew she was hot or not. And if she did, was she hiding herself in the funeral garb on purpose? Did she think that would work?
It didn’t. Her breasts were plump and round and begged for a man’s palms through the almost-sheer fabric of the fussy blouse she wore. She was tall for a regular woman—meaning, she was tall, but not one of the models he usually gravitated toward because they had legs that went on forever and that looked good draped over his shoulders while they fucked. And despite the tight-assed expression on her face, there was no disguising the flush on her high, ivory cheeks—currently from the sun, he figured, but he knew he could do better—and the full, soft lips he’d greatly enjoy seeing wrapped around his dick.
Jason was entertained.
And he couldn’t recall the last time that had happened in the presence of a suit.
He admired whoever had thought to stop sending all those boring tools and uptight douche bags here to talk at him until he scared them away. He wanted to applaud whoever had finally figured they were better off sending a hot little package like this one instead. Because the only thing better than an obviously hot woman who appeared ready to go and easy to get was one a man got the pleasure of unwrapping himself.
The quiet had stretched out between them, with nothing but the sound of the waves on the beach outside to divert attention from the way they were staring at each other.
Jason grinned. A little social discomfort didn’t bother him at all. But he couldn’t say the same for all the mainlanders.
This one broke the way they all did, but she kept her cool, businessy smile in place.
“It’s nice to meet you at last, Mr. Kaoki,” she said, in an English accent with something richer beneath it. Like an extra kick. He liked the way it moved over him, then settled in his cock. He wished she’d follow suit. “I appreciate you seeing me without any kind of appointment. For the record, I did try to make one.”
Her voice was, if possible, even more prim and proper than she looked, if he overlooked that burr beneath.
Jason had always liked the wild ones. The feral creatures who could keep up with him. But the more he stared at this defiantly pale woman with her gorgeous hair ruthlessly wrestled into submission, the more he wondered if it was the ones who pretended to be civilized who were the wildest underneath.
Something in him—and not just his dick—wanted to rise to that challenge.
“‘Mr. Kaoki?’ Jesus Christ. Who the hell is that? Sounds like someone who needs his ass kicked. I’m Jason.”
Her polite smile didn’t dim, and against his will, he was impressed. Each and every one of the wussy little men who’d sweated at him in this very same lobby had looked nauseated and ill at ease by this point. Because douche bags always imagined they could manipulate a big, loud, dumb jock—and they were always surprised and disconcerted to discover that this particular dumb jock was a whole lot more difficult to handle in person.
Not his prissy little redhead, sitting rigid and sure on the old sofa like that painful-looking bun of hers was pulling her spine straight. “I’m Lucinda Graves.”
“Why am I not surprised your name is Graves?” When she frowned, Jason shrugged. Expansively. And noted, with interest, the way her gaze followed the play of muscles in his shoulders. “Maybe you’re too jet-lagged to notice you’re in the South Pacific. Here we dress in pretty flowers and aloha and not a whole lot else. But you came dressed for a funeral.”
She rustled up that smile again, twice as polite this time. He figured she considered it a weapon.
He thought that was cute.
“I’m sorry if my professionalism offends you,” she said coolly. “I’m only trying to treat you with the courtesy due your position.”
“You mean my money, not my position. I don’t think you’d give a rat’s ass about my position if it wasn’t directly in your way. Much less any courtesy.”
“On the contrary, Mr. Kaoki. Manners never go amiss. Especially in trying situations.”
Was she scolding him? Jason thought she was. And even stranger, he found it just as hot.
Which probably said some shit about him, but he had no intention of analyzing it.
He shifted where he lounged there across from her before his unruly cock announced itself. He rubbed absently at his side, and once again her gaze dropped to follow the movement. All over the tattoo he’d gotten when his football scholarship had come through, so he’d never forget where he came from.
And Jason didn’t think she was the type to find ink quite that fascinating.
“I have to be honest, Lucinda.” He made her name a meal and discovered that he was actually good and hungry. Bordering on straight-up starving. “I don’t really think you know how trying this situation could get. Let me know if you want that to change.”
She blinked, but didn’t touch that. Smart girl.
“I represent an international hotel concern,” she started again, but he thought that smile of hers was more strained than before. He interpreted that as progress. “We specialize in extraordinary properties aimed toward top-tier clientele who expect—and can afford—the best. I’m sure you already know the development potential of this island is astronomical. And I say that as someone not given to exaggeration.”
“The development potential of anything is astronomical if the person who owns it keeps saying hell no to slick offers and obsequious dickheads in ugly suits.” He studied her for a moment, lingering on the flush across her high cheekbones and the freckles that were coming out over her nose. “I’m pretty sure you already know I don’t want to develop shit. You look like the type who would know that kind of thing before you stepped on an airplane to force a meeting. What makes you think you can show up here and convince me when no one else could?”
She blinked again, and her eyes—entirely too blue for his peace of mind—got canny. And Jason might look like a barbarian. He’d cultivated that image, in fact. Wild and loud and nothing but noise, because it suited him to be underestimated. The truth was, he’d always liked women with brains. It made life a hell of a lot more complicated, sure. But complicated was often a whole lot more interesting.
“I’m hoping that I can change your mind.” Her gaze was steady on his. “Why don’t you tell me what you think that would take.”
Jason laughed. It was a big laugh, just like him, and it filled the lobby. One of his more poetic exes had once told him it was like a volcano. As an island boy, born and bred to be respectful of Madame Pele and her works, Jason was more than okay with that comparison.
Especially when it seemed to bother the shit out of the tight-assed corporate creature perched across from him, who stiffened at the sound.
“I’m not going to talk contracts and deals, sweetheart,” he said when his laughter died away. “Fun fact. People don’t
