Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous (13 page)

Of course she had, Stephanie accepted ruefully; obviously the St Claire family was wealthy enough to do anything it chose.

Jordan easily read the look on her face as she stood against the opposite wall of the lift. ‘Don’t let all the grandeur of Mulberry Hall and here fool you—normally none of us step foot in either of these houses.’

‘Why on earth not?’ She frowned her curiosity.

It was a curiosity Jordan had no intention of satisfying. St Claire House, like Mulberry Hall, was part of the Duke of Stourbridge’s estate, and they were all only here now because their mother, still the Duchess
of Stourbridge despite the divorce, always stayed at St Claire House on the rare occasions she came down to London.

‘We’re all too busy doing other things,’ Jordan dismissed evasively as he stepped out into the thick carpeted hallway on the third floor. ‘I’ll make you comfortable in my suite before I go and see my mother.’

‘Your … suite?’ Stephanie echoed hesitantly.

‘All the family have their own suite of rooms here.’ Jordan gave a brief smile at she hung back uncertainly. ‘Parker will bring you tea in my private sitting room. I expect the bedroom adjoining that has been prepared for your use. Is that going to be a problem?’

Stephanie had no idea—was it? It felt a little too intimate to have him next door. Entirely too close to him for comfort, in fact!

‘I would be quite happy with something a little less. grand.’ She frowned her discomfort.

‘There isn’t anything less grand,’ Jordan informed her dryly as he opened a door to the left of the hallway. ‘Come on, Stephanie,’ he encouraged impatiently. ‘I’d like to see you settled before I go and visit my mother.’

She was being ridiculous, Stephanie knew as she followed Jordan reluctantly. It just felt so very strange to be here with him and his family, in this grand house they rarely visited, but which was still run by what was no doubt an army of servants.

Who lived like this nowadays?

Only the very rich and the titled. Although not even too many titled families managed to live in such luxury nowadays, either, years of savage inheritance taxes having depleted their ranks and fortunes drastically.

The sitting-room, decorated in subtle tones of brown
and cream, and furnished with heavy dark furniture, was very much in keeping with the luxury of the rest of this London townhouse.

‘There are some books over there if you feel like reading.’ Jordan indicated the shelves at the back of the room. ‘My bedroom and bathroom are through there.’ He pointed to a door to the right. ‘And your own bedroom is through there.’ He pointed to another door to the left.

Far,
far
too close for comfort, she recognised with a pained wince.

‘Cheer up, Stephanie,’ Jordan drawled as he saw the expression on her face. ‘With any luck we can both be out of here in a matter of days.’

Days?

It was the
nights
that bothered her!

How was she supposed to sleep here when she knew that Jordan’s bedroom was only feet away? Knew that the two of them were cosily ensconced in the complete privacy of his suite?

‘Stop looking so worried.’ Jordan leant his cane against the plush brown sofa before slowly crossing the room until he stood only inches away from her. He placed a gentle hand beneath her chin and raised her face up to his. ‘I’ll try to ensure this is as short a stay as possible.’

It had already been too long as far as Stephanie was concerned!

Jordan grimaced. ‘Wish me luck, hmm? I’m about to put on the performance of my life,’ he added ruefully.

Stephanie felt slightly breathless as she looked up searchingly into that rakishly handsome face, his close proximity having once again unnerved her. ‘You
want your mother to believe you’re already completely recovered.’ she realised slowly.

‘I’m going to try to convince her of that, yes.’ He shrugged. ‘It’ll be one less thing for her to worry about.’

‘You aren’t going to do anything that could hinder your progress, are you?’

Jordan sighed. ‘Ever the physiotherapist, Stephanie?’

‘That’s probably because I
am
a physiotherapist!’ she defended hotly.

Although her traitorous body certainly had other ideas. Every part of her—every muscle, sinew and nerve-ending—was totally aware of Jordan as a man rather than as a patient. Of that hand still cupping her chin. Of the warmth of Jordan’s body as he stood so close to her. Of the sensuality in his warm amber-coloured gaze as it moved slowly across her slightly parted lips. The soft caress of his breath against her cheeks as his head began to lower towards hers.

Stephanie stepped back abruptly as she realised Jordan intended kissing her. ‘That is definitely
not
a good idea,’ she stated firmly.

Only just in time too, as a faint knock sounded on the outer door, announcing the entry of the butler with the tray of tea things Jordan had requested.

‘I’ll probably have lunch with my mother, but I’m sure Parker will bring you something up on a tray …’ Jordan looked expectantly at the butler as he straightened from placing the silver tray down on the low table in front of the sofa.

‘I would be happy to do so, Miss McKinley,’ the butler replied, before Stephanie even had chance to object to being waited on in this way.

She looked across at Jordan. ‘That really isn’t necessary …’

‘Just do it, Stephanie,’ Jordan said distractedly, and he left the suite, his thoughts obviously already with his mother.

Her own thoughts were in total disarray as Parker continued to treat her as if she were a guest, rather than just another employee, informing her that her bag had been safely delivered to the adjoining bedroom.

Stephanie felt totally out of place in this world of wealth and privilege that Jordan and his brothers seemed to take so much for granted. She was even less happy at being here when she remembered that she would have to telephone Joey and tell her she was now back in London if her sister needed to talk to her about the divorce case.

S
TEPHANIE
felt slightly better once she had finished drinking the pot of Earl Grey tea and eaten a couple of biscuits to settle her stomach after the helicopter flight. In fact, she felt so much better that she must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing she knew Parker had returned with her lunch tray.

But the queasiness returned with a vengeance once Stephanie had eaten the delicious pasta dish and a bowl of fresh fruit and then dared to venture into the adjoining bedroom that Jordan had said was to be hers for the duration of her stay. It was a room dominated by a huge four-poster bed draped in the same gold brocade as the chair-covers and the curtains hanging at the long picture windows, which looked out onto the meticulously kept garden at the back of the house.

It was undoubtedly a beautiful room. The gold carpet was thick and luxurious, the walls papered in a pale cream silk, the light wood furniture Regency style—and no doubt, as with Mulberry Hall, all genuine antiques. The equally luxurious
en-suite
bathroom was of cream and gold-coloured marble, with gold fixtures and several thick cream towels warming on the stand beside the slightly sunken bath.

It was all very beautiful—and totally unsuitable for someone who was, after all, just an employee.

Stephanie left her bag unpacked on one of the brocade-covered chairs and hastily backed out of that luxurious bedroom. As soon as Jordan returned from visiting his mother she would have to tell him that she couldn’t stay here. That if he was really serious about wanting her professional help then she would prefer to go back to her own flat and simply visit him here every day.

In the meantime, grounding herself by chatting to Joey sounded like an excellent idea.

‘Has Jordan Simpson tried to seduce you into his bed yet?’ Joey questioned avidly, as soon as Stephanie’s call had been put through to her office.

Not into his bed, no. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Joey,’ she dismissed briskly.

‘And I had such high hopes, too!’

‘High hopes of what?’ Stephanie asked.

‘Of you not continuing to live the life of a nun!’

‘According to Rosalind Newman, I don’t.’

‘She’s just a vindictive woman!’ The scowl could be heard in Joey’s voice.

Stephanie sighed. ‘How are things going with the divorce case?’

‘Nothing new, I’m afraid.’ Her sister became her usual businesslike self. ‘Rosalind Newman is still insisting you had an affair with her husband, and Richard Newman is doing nothing to help the situation. It could get very messy, I’m afraid, Stephs,’ she added regretfully.

Exactly what Stephanie was trying to avoid. ‘Perhaps if we all met up and talked about it?’

‘Not a good idea,’ Joey advised. ‘Even if all three
lawyers were there representing their clients, it would still likely end up in a slanging match.’

On a practical level Stephanie already knew that. She just didn’t know what else she could do to convince Rosalind Newman that she was being delusional about Stephanie’s personal involvement with her husband. It was complicated by the fact that Stephanie was convinced Richard Newman’s lack of support was because he was involved in an affair with
another
woman, and he’d rather Stephanie’s name was blackened than his actual mistress’s.

‘Just do your best to keep my name out of it, Joey,’ Stephanie said heavily.

‘And you try and come up with something more interesting to tell me the next time you call,’ her sister encouraged teasingly.

‘By “interesting” I take it you mean sexual?’ Stephanie came back dryly.

‘You’re with
Jordan Simpson,
sis,’ Joey said impatiently. ‘The man you’ve lusted after for years!’

The man she still lusted after, Stephanie thought. ‘He isn’t at all like I imagined he would be.’ He was so much
more
than she had expected, she admitted privately—a man who was drawing on every ounce of strength he had to get him through the worst moments of what she knew were excruciating agony.

‘In what way?’ Joey prompted curiously. ‘Surely you aren’t holding it against him because he’s behaving less like a movie star and more like a man who fell off the top of a building six months ago? Because if you are, then I hate to tell you this, Stephs, but the man
did
fall off a building six months ago!’

‘No, I’m not holding that against him.’ Stephanie chuckled wryly; she could always rely on Joey to make
her laugh. ‘Joey.’ She deliberately lowered her voice. ‘You know those interviews he gives, where he mentions his parents’ divorce as being the reason he’s never married?’

‘Yes …’

‘Well, he’s really serious about it.’ She drew in a ragged breath. ‘Which means—’

‘He wouldn’t be too happy if he were to learn that the physiotherapist his brother hired is up to her ears in another couple’s divorce?’ Joey finished, with her usual bluntness.

Especially considering what they’d done together yesterday evening in his study! Stephanie thought. ‘Perhaps I should try talking to Richard again?’

‘No,
I’ll
try,’ her sister insisted. ‘The man is definitely hiding something—or should I say someone?—but he seems more than happy to let you take the flak.’

Yes, Stephanie believed that too. If only the man weren’t so obnoxious then maybe they could have persuaded him into telling the truth. As it was.

‘Just call Richard and ask him if he will speak to me,’ Stephanie pressed.

‘Will do.’ Her sister rang off with her usual abruptness.

‘Care to explain who Richard is?’

Stephanie drew in her breath with a sharp hiss as she turned and saw that Jordan had come quietly back into the sitting room and now stood near the door, looking across at her with icily narrowed eyes. She stood up slowly to run her damp palms down her denim-clad thighs. ‘Didn’t you know that it’s rude to listen to other people’s telephone conversations?’

‘If I did then I obviously forgot,’ Jordan said unapologetically as he stepped further into the room.

The hours spent convincing his mother that he was well on the road to recovery had been just as much of a strain as Jordan had thought they might be. So much so that he was now exhausted. He had come back to his suite hoping for a rest before he had to go through the whole charade all over again at dinner. He certainly didn’t appreciate coming back into his suite of rooms and overhearing the end of Stephanie’s telephone conversation concerning some man called Richard that she was obviously desperate to get in touch with!

He eyed Stephanie coldly. ‘Well?’

‘I don’t see that this has anything to do with you—’

‘You told me you weren’t involved with anyone,’ he reminded her harshly.

‘I told you I wasn’t married or engaged,’ she corrected. ‘Which I’m not.’

‘But you obviously are involved with someone. Or at least you were!’

‘I—Are you okay, Jordan?’ Stephanie exclaimed as she saw how pale he was.

‘Do I look okay?’ he snapped scathingly as he swayed slightly on his feet.

‘No.’ She could clearly see the grey cast to his skin, and dark shadows under his eyes, deep lines grooved beside his mouth. ‘You need to take some painkillers and then lie down until they start to take effect. I’ll help you into your bedroom—’

‘I don’t need any help!’ He glared across at her.

She flinched at the vehemence in Jordan’s tone. ‘You obviously need to go to bed—’

‘Is that an invitation, Stephanie?’ he cut in. ‘If it is then I think I should warn you I’m really not up to making love to you right now, and I’m not exactly in the
mood, either.’ Those gold eyes glittered down at her with cold satisfaction as Stephanie gave a pained gasp.

‘That’s enough, Jordan!’

Stephanie spun sharply round to find Lucan St Claire standing in the doorway, his austerely handsome face set in disapproving lines as he looked coldly across at his youngest brother.

The fact that the critical gaze wasn’t levelled at her made absolutely no difference to Stephanie; Jordan’s scornful remarks had made it more than obvious that he had made love to her before today!

Tears of mortification welled in her eyes. ‘If you will both excuse me?’ she choked emotionally, before hurrying into the bedroom she’d as yet had no opportunity to tell Jordan she couldn’t sleep in—tonight or any other night.