By: Lisa Kleypas | Other books by Lisa Kleypas
Published By: St. Martin's Press
Published: Feb 05, 2013
Available in: Secure Adobe Epub eBook
Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor) by Lisa Kleypas - Fiction
ONE WOMAN WHO HAS BEEN CURSED NEVER TO FIND LOVE . . .
ONE MAN WITHOUT A SOUL WHO WANTS HER MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF . . .
THEY MEET IN A SMALL ISLAND TOWN IN THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST, WHERE MAGIC IS IN THE AIR AND FATE IS A FORCE TOO POWERFUL TO DEFY. . . .
In New York Times bestselling author Lisa Kleypas's Crystal Cove, Justine Hoffman has made a comfortable life for herself on the island of Friday Harbor. She is the proprietor of a successful boutique hotel, and she has the safe, predictable life she has always wanted. Growing up with her flighty, nomadic mother, Marigold, has instilled in her a deep longing for stability. But in spite of everything Justine has achieved, there is still something missing. Love. And after years of waiting and dreaming, she is willing to do whatever it takes to change her destiny.
What Justine soon discovers is that someone cast a spell on her when she was born, with the result that she will never find her soul mate. Determined to change her fate, Justine finds a way to break the enchantment, never dreaming of the dangerous complications that will follow.
And when Justine meets the mysterious Jason Black, she accidentally unleashes a storm of desire and danger that threaten everything she holds dear . . . because Jason has secrets of his own, and he wants more from her than fate will ever allow.
He gestured for Justine to enter the room, pausing just long enough to tell her, "Don't leave yet." He looked at her directly.
The glance lasted only a half-second, but it was nearly enough to knock Justine backward. His fathomless eyes--shrewd and opaque as blackstrap molasses--could have belonged to Lucifer himself.Justine responded with a dazed nod and managed to set the tray on the table without spilling it. She was so unsettled that it took her a minute to realize he was speaking in Japanese. His voice was mesmerizing, a quiet baritone wrapped in shadow.
At a loss for what to do, she went to one of the windows and looked outside. The vestigial light was melon-colored at the horizon, darkening to a black plum meridian overhead. The fissure of a crescent moon gleamed white and clear like a claw mark in the sky. A night made for magic.
Her attention returned to Jason Black, who paced slowly as he talked. He was a big man, elegantly lean, the easy athleticism of his movements hinting at deep tracts of muscle beneath the crisp white button-down shirt and khakis. Leaning over the table, he scrawled a few words on a notepad. A stainless steel Swiss Army watch gleamed on his wrist.
His face could have been honed from amber, the cheekbones steeply angled. Weathering at the outward corners of his eyes betrayed a pattern of sleepless nights and restless days. Although his mouth was set in ruthless lines, his lips looked soft, as if erotic tenderness had been kneaded into the surface.
"Forgive me," he said, shutting off the phone as he approached Justine. "Tokyo is sixteen hours ahead of us. I had to get in one last call."
His manner was relaxed, but Justine had to fight the instinct to step back from him. Even though she knew he posed no threat to her, she had the sense of him as a dangerous creature, a tiger behind a thin glass wall.
"Of course," she said. "Your Stoli is right over there."
"Thank you." His gaze didn't move from hers. He extended a hand. "Jason."
"Justine." Her fingers were swallowed in a deep grip that sent a jolt of warmth to her elbow. "I hope your room is satisfactory."
"Yes. However . . ." Releasing her hand, he said, "I'm curious about something." He nodded toward the glazed earthenware flowerpot on the table. It contained a double-stemmed moth orchid, each stem bearing an inflorescence of snowy-white blooms. "I asked for an arrangement of white flowers. But this--"
"You don't like it? I'm sorry. First thing in the morning I'll get you another--"
"It would be no trouble--"
"Justine." He lifted a hand in the peremptory gesture of a man who wasn't used to being interrupted. She fell instantly silent. "I like the orchid," he said. "I just want to know why you chose it."
"Oh. Well, it's nicer to have a living, breathing plant in the room instead of a cut bouquet. And I thought an orchid would go with the Klimt artwork."
"It does. Clean, elegant . . ." A barely perceptible pause, " . . . suggestive."
Justine smiled wryly. The orchid bloom, with plush petals resembling lips and furled folds and delicate...