Jonas expelled his breath. “Miss Coulter, I require a secretary-translator, not a mother.’’
“Your leg was bothering you yesterday.” She knew she was on dangerously thin ice. Not once had she mentioned his limp. “I see no reason to aggravate it further.”
He didn’t answer her, but Stephanie noted triumphantly that he reached for his cane before they left the suite.
What followed was a day Stephanie was not likely to forget. The first meeting that morning was a marathon exchange of proposals and counterproposals. They adjourned briefly for lunch, and were at it again before she had the opportunity to take more than a bite or two of her salad.
The afternoon was just as bizarre. No sooner had she finished translating one statement than Jonas gave her another. He was tense, although he didn’t show it. Much of the conversation went completely over her head, but in the weeks since meeting Jonas, Stephanie had gained valuable insight into her employer. For the meeting, he almost seemed to wear a bronze mask that revealed none of his feelings or emotions. This was business, just as most of his life was business, with little room for fun and games. If Stephanie had accepted what she saw on the surface, Jonas would have frozen her out completely. But she’d seen a rare glimpse of the man inside, and she’d been intrigued.
The afternoon session was both complicated and challenging. Stephanie noted that Jonas was cool to the point of being aloof, as though what they were discussing was of little consequence to him. Like a gambler, he placed his money on the line for the pleasure of tossing the dice. He enjoyed the thrill, the excitement, and had poured his whole life into it.
During the long afternoon session, Adam Holmes drifted in and out of the room, returning with one document and then another.
It was early evening when the meeting came to an end. Jonas and his French counterpart stood and shook hands.
“We’re breaking until morning,” Jonas informed Adam outside the conference-room door. “Did you locate that paper on the export tax I asked about earlier?”
“I have them with me,” Adam responded, tapping the side of his briefcase.
“I’ll want to look them over tonight.’’
For her part, Stephanie was exhausted and hungry. After no breakfast, she’d barely had time to touch her lunch and her stomach protested strenuously.
Once they were back in the hotel suite, Stephanie immediately slipped off her shoes. They were new, and pinched her heel. Sitting on the sofa, she crossed her legs and rubbed the tender portion of her foot, suspecting a blister.
On the other side of the room Jonas was drilling Adam about one thing or another. She couldn’t have cared less. But she had noticed that his gaze rested on her slender legs. When he realized she’d caught the direction of his glance, he turned his head. He looked tired, worn down. She wanted to suggest that he take this evening to rest, but after her comment that morning about his cane, she realized she’d be pressing her luck. She was too weary to fight with Jonas now.
“I’ll get that statement for you as quickly as possible,” Adam said, rising to his feet.
“Thanks.”
The room seemed oddly quiet after Adam left.
“Miss Coulter, order a car.”
Stephanie couldn’t believe it. The man was a slave driver. Reaching for the phone, she contacted the desk and asked that they have a car available. “How soon do you want it?” she asked, holding the receiver to her breast.
“Immediately.”
She glared angrily at him. Not everyone was accustomed to his pace. She was tired, hungry, and not in the most congenial mood.
“Will you be requiring my services?” She didn’t bother to hide the resentment in her voice.
“Naturally, I’ll need you to translate for me.”
“Do you mind if I eat something first?” she asked as she reached for her shoes.
“Yes, I would.”
Her gaze narrowed with frustration. “What is it with you? Maybe you can work all hours of the night and day, but others have limitations.”
His mouth thinned, revealing his irritation; he picked up his cane. “Then stay.”
As much as she would have liked to do exactly that, Stephanie couldn’t. Reluctantly she followed him. “Miss Coulter—” she mimicked his low voice sarcastically “—you’ve done a wonderful job today. Let me express my deepest appreciation. You deserve a break.” She paused to eye him. The stone mask was locked tightly in place. “Why, thank you, Mr. Lockwood. Everyone needs a few words of encouragement now and then, and you seem to know just when I need them most. It’s been a long grueling day, but those few words of appreciation seem to have made everything worthwhile.”
“Are you through, Miss Coulter?” he asked sharply as they stepped into the elevator.
“Quite through.” Her back was stiff and straight as they descended. She was tired, her feet ached, and she was hungry. For the last eleven hours, she’d been at his beck and call. What more could he possibly expect from her now? Apparently she was soon to discover the answer.
The driver was waiting outside the hotel when they approached. He held open the door, and Stephanie climbed inside. Jonas paused to speak to the driver, but what he said and whether the driver understood him didn’t concern her at the moment. If he needed her to translate, he’d ask. Asking was something Jonas had no problem doing.
They’d gone only a few blocks when the driver pulled to the curb and parked. They were in front of an elegant restaurant. Tiny tables were set outside the door, and white-coated waiters with red cloths draped over their forearms stood in attendance, watching for the smallest hint of a request. Stephanie blinked twice. Exhausted and dispirited, she didn’t know if she could bear another meeting now. As it was, her stomach would growl through the entire affair.
“Well, Miss Coulter,” Jonas said, climbing agilely out of the car. “I did hear you say you were hungry, right?”
Stunned, Stephanie didn’t move. “We’re dining here?”
“That is, unless you have any objections?” He suddenly looked bored with the entire process.
“No... I’m starved.”
“I believe you’ve already stated as much. I have a reservation, unless you’d prefer eating in the car.”
“I’m coming.” This was almost too good to be true. Eagerly she made her way onto the pavement. As they walked into the plush interior, Stephanie’s gaze fell longingly on an empty table outside the restaurant.
Jonas surprised her by asking, “Would you prefer to dine outside?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
Jonas spoke to the maitre d’, who led them to the table and politely held out Stephanie’s chair for her. He handed each of them a menu. She was so hungry that her gaze quickly scanned the contents. “Oh, I do love vichyssoise,” she said aloud, biting into her lower lip.
Before she knew what was happening, Jonas had attracted the waiter’s attention and gestured with his hands. “A bowl of vichyssoise for the lady.”
“Jonas,” she said, shocked. “Why did you do that?”
“From the way you were acting, I was afraid you were about to keel over from hunger.”
“I am,” she admitted, her gaze going up one side of the menu and down the other. “Everything looks wonderful.”
“What would you like?”
“I can’t decide between a huge spinach salad or a whole chicken.”
The waiter returned, hands behind his back as he inquired courteously if they’d like to place their orders. Jonas asked for the bouillabaisse, and raised questioning eyes to Stephanie.
“I’ll have one of those,” she said, pointing to the tray another waiter was delivering. A huge salad was piled high with fresh pink shrimp. “And one of those.” Her gaze flew across the room to the dessert tray spread thick with a variety of scrumptious, calorie-laden goodies.
“Will that be all?”
“Oh heavens, yes.” She felt guilty enough already. “This is what you get for depriving me of nourishment,” she joked. “I’m a grouch when I get too hungry.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” One side of his mouth lifted in an action that appeared aloofly mocking.
“I guess I owe you an apology for what I said earlier.”
Her soup arrived, and she eagerly dipped her spoon into it, closing her eyes at the heavenly flavor. “Oh, this is absolutely wonderful. Thank you, Jonas.”
His eyes smiled into hers. “You’re quite welcome.”
“I am sorry.”
“My dear Stephanie, I’ve stopped counting the times you’ve let your mouth outdistance your mind.”
Stephanie was so shocked that her spoon was poised halfway between the bowl and her mouth. Jonas joking! Jonas calling her
dear!
It was almost more than her numbed mind could assimilate.
No sooner had she finished the soup than the salad was delivered. The top was thick with shrimp. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Then you’re relatively easy to please. It was my understanding that women were more interested in diamonds and furs.”
Stephanie eagerly stabbed her fork into a shrimp. “I haven’t eaten one of those in months!”
Jonas arched two thick eyebrows expressively. “So a man could win you over with cheesecake.”
“Tonight he could.” Unable to wait any longer, she ate the fat shrimp and closed her eyes at the scrumptious flavor. When she opened them, she discovered that Jonas was watching her. Tiny laugh lines fanned out from his eyes.
He was so handsome that Stephanie couldn’t take her eyes from him. “Are you wooing me?” It seemed overwhelmingly important that she know where she stood with Jonas.
“I will admit you’re the cheapest date I’ve had in a long time.”
“Is this a date?”
“Think of it more as a token of appreciation for a job well done.”
Stephanie pressed her hand dramatically to her forehead, and her bright blue eyes grew round with feigned shock. “Do my ears deceive me? The Jonas Lockwood of Lockwood Industries finds a woman of value? A relatively young woman at that—one with faults.”
“You won’t have me disagreeing with you there.”
Despite herself, Stephanie laughed. “No, I don’t suppose you would.”
“You did very well today.”
“Thank you.” She felt inexplicably humble.
“Where did you learn to speak French?”
He seemed to want to keep the conversation going, and Stephanie was just as eager to comply. For the first time since meeting the man, she didn’t feel on guard around him.
“My grandmother was a French war bride, and she taught my mother the language as a child. Later, Mom majored in French at the University of Washington. I’ve been bilingual almost from the day I was born.”
“You’re from Washington State?”
“Colville. Ever hear of it?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“Don’t worry, most people haven’t.”
“I imagine you were the town’s beauty queen.”
“Not me. In fact, I was a tall, skinny kid with buckteeth and knobby knees most of my life. It wasn’t until I was in my late teens and the braces came off that the boys noticed me.”
“I have trouble believing that.”
“It’s true.” She reached for her purse, and took out her billfold. “I carry this picture because people don’t believe me.” She withdrew it from her wallet, and was about to hand it to him when they were interrupted by the waiter.
Seeming annoyed, Jonas looked up and spoke briefly with the other man.
Stephanie’s blue eyes widened with astonishment and surprise. The waiter nodded and stepped away.
“You speak French.”
“Only a little.”
“But well.”
“Thank you.” He dipped his head, accepting her compliment.
A clenching sensation attacked her stomach. “You didn’t really need me at all, did you?”
Chapter Four
“I brought you along as a translator,” Jonas answered simply.
Stephanie lowered her fork to her plate. Her thoughts were churning like water left to boil too long, bubbling and spitting out scalding thoughts she would have preferred to keep in her subconscious. He’d tricked her into accompanying him on this trip—for what reason she could only guess. The meal that had tasted like ambrosia only seconds before felt like a concrete block in the pit of her stomach. “You speak fluent French.”
“My French is adequate,” Jonas countered, reaching for his wineglass.
“It’s as articulate as my own.”
“My dear Ms. Coulter, my linguistic abilities have nothing to do with the reason I brought you to France.’’
“Then why...” She couldn’t understand the man. One minute he was personable and considerate, and the next he became brusque and arrogant. The transformation was made with such ease that Stephanie hardly knew how to respond to him.
“That I required a translator is all you need to know.”
Rather than argue with him further, Stephanie forked another plump shrimp. She ate it slowly, but for all the enjoyment it gave her she might as well have been chewing on rubber. “Letting the French company we’re negotiating with believe you didn’t speak the language is all part of your strategy, isn’t it?” “Wine?” Jonas lifted the long-necked green bottle a waiter had recently delivered and motioned to her with it.
“Jonas?”
He cocked his head to one side and nodded. “I can see you’re learning.”
Stephanie ate another pink shrimp, and discovered that some of the flavor had returned. “You devil!”
“Stephanie, business is business.”
“And what is this?” The chardonnay was excellent, and she took another sip, studying him as she tilted the narrow glass to her lips.
He stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Our dinner. Is it business or pleasure?”
The crow’s-feet at the corners of Jonas’s eyes fanned out as if he were smiling, yet his mouth revealed not a trace of amusement. “A little of both, I suspect.”
“Then I’m honored. I would have assumed that you’d prefer to escort a much more
mature
woman to dinner.” She felt the laughter slide up her throat, but suppressed it with some difficulty. “Someone far less emotional than
a younger
woman.”
“I believe it was you who commented that age has little to do with maturity.”
“Touché,
Jonas,
touché.”
Stephanie raised her wineglass in salute and sipped the wine to toast his wit. She felt light-headed and mellow, but wasn’t sure what was to blame: Jonas, her fatigue, or the excellent wine.