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She didn’t need to answer. He saw the shock of the truth in her eyes before she pulled away. She stood up, moved toward the water, stopping on the edge of the beach, letting the waves wash over her feet.
Harvard followed, waiting for her to look at him again.
P.J.’s head was spinning. Afraid of heights? Terrified was more like it.
She couldn’t believe he’d figured that out. She couldn’t believe she’d told him enough to give herself away. Steeling herself, she looked at him. “I can handle heights, Senior Chief. It’s not a problem.”
She could tell from the look on his face he didn’t believe her.
“It’s not a problem,” she said again.
Damn. She’d told him too much.
It was one thing to joke around about her dream house. But telling him about her problem with heights was going way too far.
It would do her absolutely no good to let this man know her weaknesses. She had to have absolutely no vulnerabilities to coexist in his macho world. She could not be afraid of heights. She would not be. She could handle it—but not if he made it into an issue.
P.J. rinsed her hands in the ocean. “We better get back if we want to have any lunch.”
But Harvard blocked the way to where her sneakers and T-shirt were lying on the sand. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,” he said.
She nodded, still afraid to meet his eyes. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re friends.”
“It’s nice to be able to talk to someone in confidence—and know you don’t have to worry about other people finding out all your deep, dark secrets,” Harvard told her.
P.J. did look at him then, but he’d already turned away.
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