Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous (17 page)

A nerve pulsed in Jordan’s tightly clenched jaw. ‘So this
thing
you have is only for Jordan Simpson?’

No, of course it wasn’t! Stephanie’s infatuation, maybe. But it was Jordan St Claire she had fallen in love with. A man as unlike the suavely charming and sophisticated screen image of Jordan Simpson as it was possible to for him to be.

Something Stephanie had no intention of ever admitting, least of all to Jordan himself!

‘Yes,’ she confirmed flatly. ‘I’m sorry, Jordan.’ She winced as she saw the way his expression had darkened ominously. ‘I just—I did try not to get personally involved with you. I told you that it wasn’t a good idea. But you’ve always been this fantasy to me, you see, and so when I found myself in bed with you yesterday—’

‘You don’t need to say any more,’ he rasped harshly, those gold-coloured eyes as hard as the metal they resembled. He looked absolutely livid. ‘I somehow never imagined you as a movie-star groupie—’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ she cut in indignantly.

‘I would,’ he bit out frigidly. ‘A pity for you that we’ve met when I’m obviously looking and feeling less
than my best,’ he added contemptuously as he bent to pick up his cane. ‘I obviously didn’t come even close to living up to the fantasy!’

Stephanie hated this conversation.
Hated
it!

She loved this man. Not Jordan Simpson. Not even Jordan St Claire. But the man standing in front of her right now. The man who in Gloucestershire had still been able to tease despite the fact that he was in constant pain. The man who had made love with her yesterday with a fierce heat she was never going to be able to forget. That she never wanted to forget. Just as she knew she never wanted to forget Jordan.

She wished things could be different. Wished that she could explain about Richard Newman to Jordan—that she could tell him the truth and that he would tell her he believed her. That he loved her too. But Jordan didn’t love her, and he never would. After all, he had only made love with her to prove he could still desire a woman that way.

Which left Stephanie with no alternative but to try and salvage as much of her pride as she could. ‘I don’t have any complaints.’ She shrugged.

Jordan’s mouth compressed as he looked at her challengingly. ‘Neither do I.’

Stephanie felt the warmth of colour in her cheeks. ‘Then—’ She broke off with a frown as the doorbell rang. ‘That could be someone from the telephone company.’

‘I don’t think they usually make house-calls in order to change a number,’ Jordan said.

Neither did Stephanie. Which was why she was reluctant to actually go and open the door.

Jordan found he was even more angry now than he had been the previous evening! Angry and disappointed
that Stephanie was obviously as enamoured of his screen image as so many of the other women he’d met, rather than being attracted to the man he actually was.

He had dreamed of becoming a professional actor from the time he’d starred in a school play at the age of eleven. Had chosen to go to drama school rather than university. Done several years of stage work in England before being offered a film role in America ten years ago.

He enjoyed the success he had made of his career. Enjoyed the lifestyle it gave him. The celebrity status. But one of the drawbacks had always been that women were attracted to Jordan Simpson rather than Jordan St Claire, and unfortunately Stephanie was no exception.

He sighed heavily. ‘It’s time I was leaving—’ He frowned as the doorbell rang again—longer this time, and somehow more insistent. ‘Shouldn’t you go and see who that is?’ he asked, as Stephanie continued to ignore this second, much longer ring of the doorbell.

‘I thought you said it was important that we finish our conversation?’

Jordan studied her through narrowed lids, once again noting that pallor to her cheeks and the wariness of her gaze. ‘As far as I’m aware, it’s finished.’

She gave him a bright, meaningless smile. ‘I’m not in the mood for more visitors this morning.’

Jordan scowled at her obvious reluctance to answer the door. ‘Stephanie, what the hell is going on here?’

‘Nothing,’ she denied hastily.

His scowl deepened. ‘I don’t believe you.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you—’

‘You’re right, you don’t,’ Jordan said as he turned
to walk haltingly towards the door of the flat. ‘Maybe your visitor will be a little more forthcoming?’

‘No, Jordan—’

Jordan had wrenched the door open before Stephanie had fully realised his intention, frowning as he looked at the woman who stood outside in the hallway.

From Stephanie’s evasive behaviour he had expected that her visitor would be a man. Perhaps this Richard he’d wanted to know about.

But the woman standing in the hallway was tall and blonde, probably aged in her mid-thirties, and the angry glitter of her blue eyes as she looked past Jordan to glare at Stephanie seemed to indicate that she was feeling less than friendly towards her!

Those blue eyes flicked scornfully over Jordan, before moving down to his cane. ‘Another one, Stephanie?’ the woman said insultingly.

‘I—’

‘Another what?’ Jordan asked in a steely voice.

‘Perhaps you aren’t aware of it, but Stephanie makes a habit of having affairs with her patients,’ the woman said. ‘First my husband, and now you!’

This had to be Stephanie’s worst nightmare!

Having Rosalind Newman arrive on her doorstep at all was bad enough, but having her make these awful accusations in front of Jordan was even worse.

She took a step forward. ‘Rosalind, you aren’t well—’

‘I’m perfectly well, thank you!’ the older woman snapped contemptuously.

The last few months of the emotional turmoil of her disintegrating marriage had not been kind to Rosalind; she was much too thin, and her face was much harder, older, than when Stephanie had first met her three months ago.

‘Or as well as I can be after you stole my husband from me!’ Rosalind spat out. ‘Does Richard know about
him?’
She glared at Jordan.

Stephanie couldn’t even look at Jordan to see what he was making of this conversation. She stepped around him so that she could confront Rosalind. Although he could hardly have been left in any doubt as to exactly what Rosalind was accusing her of! ‘There’s nothing to know, Rosalind,’ she said soothingly. ‘And even if there was it would be none of Richard’s business. For the last time—I’m not and I never have been involved in an affair with your husband. He was my patient, yes, but that was the extent of our relationship.’

Blue eyes narrowed viciously. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I know you don’t.’ Stephanie sighed heavily. ‘And I’m really sorry that you don’t. But that doesn’t make it any less the truth.’

Rosalind raised her hands, her fingers curled like talons about to strike. ‘You’re nothing but a marriage-wrecking little—’

‘I think not!’ Jordan raised his cane to fend off the attack of those fingers as the woman would have reached out and raked her nails down Stephanie’s face. ‘Go home,’ he told the other woman firmly as he stepped protectively in front of an obviously shaken Stephanie.

‘I haven’t finished yet—’

‘Oh, yes, you have,’ Jordan said. ‘And if you want to know who wrecked your marriage then I suggest you try looking in a mirror,’ he added bluntly.

‘How dare you—?’ The woman broke off abruptly as she seemed to look at him for the first time. ‘Do I know you?’

‘No, thank God!’ Jordan said with feeling.

‘You look very familiar …’

Jordan’s mouth quirked. ‘I get that all the time.’

The woman blinked dazedly. ‘Are the two of you. involved?’

Jordan didn’t even hesitate. ‘Yes.’

‘I—I don’t understand.’ She looked far less sure of herself now. ‘What about Richard?’ She looked frowningly at Stephanie.

‘Stephanie has already told you that she isn’t and never has been involved with your husband,’ Jordan reiterated.

‘I—But I’m divorcing him because of her!’

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Jordan frowned. ‘But you’ve made a mistake concerning her involvement. Now, if you wouldn’t mind …?’ He carefully eased the woman back with his cane until she was once again fully outside in the hallway. ‘I advise you not to come here and bother Stephanie again,’ he said.

Anger seemed to have given way to confusion, as if the woman wasn’t even sure how she came to be here now.

‘I think you need to get some professional help before you end up actually hurting someone other than yourself,’ Jordan added gently.

‘I … Yes.’ The woman turned away.

‘Rosalind—’

‘Let her go, Stephanie!’ Jordan instructed swiftly as she made a move as if to follow the other woman. ‘Leave her with some pride, damn it!’

Stephanie came to an abrupt halt, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up at Jordan and saw the expression in those beautiful gold-coloured eyes.

Despite his defence of her just now, both verbally
and physically, Jordan was obviously still far from convinced of her innocence in the breakdown of Rosalind Newman’s marriage.

‘I
S SHE
also the one making the telephone calls?’

Stephanie had staggered back into her flat to walk through to the kitchen and automatically go through the motions of making a pot of coffee. Certain, as she heard her flat door being closed seconds later, that Jordan had taken the opportunity to leave. Obviously she had been wrong.

She turned to face him across her red and white kitchen as he stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on his cane, the expression in those gold-coloured eyes hidden by narrowed lids. ‘Yes,’ she admitted wearily.

Jordan nodded. ‘And having a man answer the last call was reason enough for her to decide to pay you a personal visit?’

‘Probably—as the Newmans’ house is only half a mile or so away.’ Stephanie sighed. ‘At least
Rosalind
lives only half a mile or so away,’ she added. ‘I believe Richard moved into an apartment of his own several weeks ago.’

‘But you’re not sure?’

Stephanie gritted her teeth in frustration with a situation that had already been complicated enough before Rosalind Newman’s intervention! ‘Look, Jordan, I know
how bad this all looks and sounds—especially after what’s happened between us the last few days—but—’

‘I don’t consider the problem you’re currently experiencing with Rosalind Newman to have anything to do with what took place between us,’ Jordan said.

Stephanie eyed him warily. ‘You don’t?’

He shrugged. ‘You’ve already assured me that our own relationship only went as far as it did because of your long-held infatuation with Jordan Simpson,’ he reminded her coldly. ‘Which would seem to indicate that the two incidents have little to do with each other.’

‘You were my patient too—’

‘I think we can both agree that you never actually got as far as a working relationship with me,’ Jordan drawled.

‘I didn’t have an affair with Richard Newman, either.’

He arched dark brows. ‘Did I say that you did?’

‘No, but Rosalind did!’ Stephanie’s cheeks felt warm as she thought of the accusations the other woman had made in front of Jordan.

He gave a shrug as he walked further into the kitchen to perch on the side of one of the stools at the breakfast-bar. ‘I think we can safely assume the poor woman has been knocked slightly emotionally off-balance by the breakdown of her marriage.’ His mouth tightened. ‘So much so that she’s looking for someone else to blame.’

Stephanie looked at him uncertainly. ‘You really believe me when I say I didn’t have an affair with Richard Newman?’

‘Shouldn’t I?’

Well, of course Jordan should believe her, when it was nothing less than the truth! Stephanie just hadn’t
expected that he would …’I do think Rosalind is right about Richard having an affair with someone, though.’

‘Just not you?’

She grimaced. ‘No.’

Jordan’s earlier anger had dissipated in the face of this more pressing problem for Stephanie. Much as he felt sorry for Rosalind Newman’s dilemma, her behaviour earlier indicated that she was close to breaking emotionally. Dangerously close.

‘Pour us both some coffee, hmm?’ Jordan encouraged softly. ‘And then you can tell me exactly why you think Newman is having an affair, but has no problem with letting an innocent bystander bear the brunt of his wife’s anger.’

‘I’m sure you don’t need to be bothered with my problems—’

‘Having enough of my own, presumably?’ Jordan said dryly.

‘I didn’t mean that!’

‘Just pour the coffee, Stephanie, and let me worry about what I do or don’t want to be bothered with,’ he rasped, and he made himself more comfortable on the bar stool.

Stephanie still looked less than certain, but she poured coffee into two mugs anyway, placing them and milk and sugar on the breakfast bar before sitting on the stool opposite Jordan’s.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything.’

It had all started out innocently enough, as far as Jordan could see. Richard Newman had been involved in a car accident which had resulted in his needing physiotherapy on a daily basis at his home, once he’d
been discharged from hospital. Those treatments had lessened to three times a week and begun taking place at Stephanie’s small private treatment room once he had regained most of his mobility and returned to work in the City.

‘Let me guess,’ Jordan commented. ‘This is where the trouble started?’

Stephanie gave a heavy sigh. ‘It seems that Rosalind and Richard’s boss were both still under the impression he was having treatment five afternoons a week.’

‘So on those other two afternoons he was meeting someone else?’

‘I can only assume he must have been.’ Stephanie nodded uncomfortably. ‘He certainly wasn’t spending them with me.’

‘I’ve already said I believe you, Stephanie,’ Jordan said.

She frowned. ‘But
why
do you?’

Interesting question, Jordan acknowledged ruefully. Interesting, but totally redundant, since Stephanie had assured him that her only interest in him had been as his actor persona!