Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea (35 page)

When Jane finally donned the uniform, she was more than pleased with the result. The white polyester slacks were a perfect fit, as was the white turtle-neck blouse. The caramel-beige waist-length jacket gave her rather the appearance of a bellboy, but it also fit beautifully, and the color went well with her hair, she noticed, pleased. She added a touch of peach gloss to her lips and brushed her hair until it gleamed. It was amazing what a little lipstick could do for the morale. For the first time in nearly three weeks, she felt truly feminine.

No, not the first time, she thought, remembering that dizzying moment in Jake Dominic's cabin when she had felt more a woman than she had at any time in her life. She dismissed the thought firmly, and hurriedly put away her new things in the small teak chest before returning to the kitchen for her final instructions from Sam Brockmeyer.

Brockmeyer had informed her that unless Mr. Dominic had a large party of guests aboard, he preferred to have his meals served in the lounge. Though the surroundings were casual, Brockmeyer's table arrangements were not. It took Jane a full thirty minutes to set up the table in the elegant manner the chef felt his creations deserved, and then to transfer the meal in specially heated trays from the kitchen to the lounge. She then carefully chose a suitable bottle of wine from the wine rack behind the bar and moved briskly to stand beside the table.

Jake Dominic entered the lounge a few minutes later, and his brows shot up in amusement as he noted Jane's almost military stance. “For heaven's sake, relax! You make me feel like the prince in a comic opera.”

Jane shot him an indignant glance but remained at attention. He looked like a prince, she thought with a little tingle of awareness. The dark prince Lucifer dressed in fitted black jeans and a black long-sleeve sport shirt. Jane had not seen him since she had started her duties with Brockmeyer, and she stifled the unreasoning surge of pleasure at the sight of that dark face.

“I have my instructions, sir,” she said sedately, as he strolled to his chair. She was immediately behind it and ready to seat him.

He frowned threateningly. “You do that and I'll smack that pert little bottom, brat.”

Jane's face drooped with disappointment, but she obediently moved back to her former position and poured the wine with a little flourish. His crooked eyebrow rose mockingly as she uncovered the soup and set it carefully before him.

“You're overplaying it, Jane,” he said dryly, picking up his spoon. “Why don't you pull up a chair and join me?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn't,” she answered, shocked. “Mr. Brockmeyer would be positively furious.”

“And I will be equally furious if I have an attack of indigestion from all this hovering,” he said silkily. “Sit down!”

She reluctantly drew up a chair and perched on it gingerly, her face stormy. “You're not being fair. I'm only trying to do my duties properly,” she said. “You wouldn't invite Ralph to sit down and have lunch with you.”

“The same rules don't apply,” he said coolly. “I wouldn't threaten to smack Ralph's bottom, either.” Ignoring her sudden rush of color, he commented casually, “That uniform fits very well. I thought it would.”

This confirmed her earlier suspicion, and she said gratefully, “Everything fits beautifully. Thank you.”

Jake shrugged, his eyes gleaming wickedly. “Personally, I was growing rather fond of your Orphan Annie image,” he drawled. “But it was either garb you decently or court ptomaine poisoning
for the remainder of the cruise. How did you tame our Tiger of the Kitchen in just four days?”

“Mr. Brockmeyer is not a tiger,” she protested stoutly. Then, meeting his skeptical look, she conceded, “Well, if he is, he has good reason to be. He's totally dedicated to his work and is a great artist. It's no wonder that he's so difficult. Just look at his background.” She paused for effect. “He was born in Cleveland!”

Jake took a sip of his wine and said solemnly, “How very unfortunate.” There was a suspicious twitch to his lips as he added, “I suppose that does have some significance, but I can't quite grasp it.”

“Well, of course, it does,” Jane said impatiently. “Whoever heard of a great chef from Cleveland, Ohio? The entire restaurant world is prejudiced in favor of French chefs. Even Italian chefs are given more opportunities than Americans.” She leaned forward, warming to her subject, her cheeks flushed. “I read an article in
Gourmet
magazine a few years ago about Sam Brockmeyer. Do you know that, as great as he is, he wasn't able to get work in any four-star restaurant in the world until he assumed the name of Pierre LeClaire?” Her voice rose indignantly. “Why, he even had to fake a French accent to get his first prestigious job! Can you imagine what that would do to a man of his temperament?”

Jake was grinning unashamedly now, his ebony eyes dancing. “I can see that a delicate flower like Brockmeyer could suffer irreparable psychological damage.”

Jane smiled reluctantly. “Well, he is a brilliant artist. He must be very sensitive under that gruff exterior.”

Jake's smile was cynical. “It doesn't naturally follow. I'm considered rather brilliant myself in some circles, and I assure you that I'm as hard as nails.”

She shook her head, her face troubled. “Don't say that. You couldn't be that tough and still be so kind to me. I'd probably be behind bars now if you were.”

“Don't make the mistake of putting me on a pedestal, redhead,” he corrected her wryly. “I'm a selfish bastard, and I always do exactly as I please. If I'd been in a different mood that night, I'd have turned you over to the authorities without a second thought.”

“I don't believe that,” Jane said quietly, her eyes steady on his.

“Then you're a fool,” he replied softly, his dark eyes ruthless. “Ask Marc what kind of man I am.”

Jane's gaze dropped. “I trust my own judgment,” she insisted stubbornly.

“You'll forgive me if I fail to be impressed by your efforts in that area to date. Well, I've warned you, Jane, and that's more than I've done for any other woman. Just don't expect me to be better than I am.”

“I don't think you know what you can be,” she said daringly. “Or who you really are.”

Jake's lips tightened, and his black eyes flickered. “And you do, I suppose,” he remarked caustically.

Jane shook her head hesitantly. “Not yet,” she said quietly, “but I'm beginning to think I may soon.”

The look he bestowed on her was half angry, half amused, before the impenetrable shutter once more masked his expression. “You'd better pray that the final unveiling doesn't scare the hell out of you, redhead,” he said lightly.

He reached for the bottle of wine and filled another glass and handed it to her. “Now, if you won't join me for lunch, at least have a glass of wine,” he ordered, grinning mischievously. “I promise I won't tell Brockmeyer.”

A few mornings later, they anchored at a small island off the southern coast of Mexico in answer to an urgent radio message from one Sheikh Ahmet Kahlid, a Middle Eastern oil potentate and apparently an old friend of Dominic's. Though Simon had
apprised her of their passenger's arrival, Brockmeyer had kept Jane so busy in the kitchen that she didn't get a glimpse of the sheikh until it was time for her to go to the lounge to serve lunch.

She drew a deep breath before opening the door quietly and striding quickly across the lounge to the bar to choose the wine to accompany the meal. Kahlid and Dominic were sitting in the two large brown leather chairs in the center of the room, conversing lazily. Though Jake looked up when Jane came in the door, he didn't greet her, as he usually did, and she drew a breath of relief. It was clear that she was to be treated as just another steward, in the presence of Dominic's guest. She would have found it exceedingly uncomfortable to have to submit to Jake's teasing in front of this stranger.

Ahmet Kahlid's appearance was not exactly dashing, she noticed from the corner of her eye. His large, sturdy body was dressed in a gray business suit that screamed of Savile Row. He was well over six feet, with dark hair and beard and expressive dark eyes, which twinkled like bright buttons. He reminded her vaguely of a big, cozy teddy bear.

Jane pulled a bottle out of the wine rack and examined the label with satisfaction before placing it on the bar.

“No, not that one!” Jake called sharply, rising to his feet. “Excuse me, Ahmet, but there's a rather good wine I want you to try.”

He strode across the room and behind the bar. Jane watched in surprise as he reached for a bottle of quite ordinary vintage. The one she had chosen was much better, she thought indignantly. She opened her lips to tell him this, then closed them quickly as she met Jake Dominic's dark, furious gaze.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he muttered in a harsh undertone. “I thought even Brockmeyer would have the sense to send a substitute, with Kahlid here.”

“Why should he?” Jane hissed back indignantly. “I'm perfectly capable. Mr. Brockmeyer trusts me completely.”

Jake Dominic muttered an imprecation beneath his breath and thrust the bottle at her. “I don't want to hear a word out of you, do you understand?” he asked, his eyes flashing. “And tell Brockmeyer I want a different steward by dinner.”

He turned and walked back toward Kahlid, the smooth mask once more in place on his dark face. Jane stared after him, her face flushed with confusion and hurt at the sheer injustice of the attack. As she turned away, she intercepted Kahlid's curious, speculative gaze.

Jane was conscious of several such glances from Kahlid during lunch as she carefully obeyed Jake's orders. Not one word did she utter as she served each course and kept the wine-glasses full. When not needed, she stood at rigid attention behind Jake Dominic's chair, her blazing golden eyes staring straight before her.

It was a building fury that caused her to make the blunder that was to have such far-reaching consequences. Her hand was shaking slightly as she refilled Kahlid's glass for the third time, and she splashed a little on the white damask tablecloth.

Without thinking she murmured absently in Arabic, “Forgive me, effendi,” and dabbed at the spreading stain with a linen napkin.

Kahlid broke off what he was saying to Dominic to stare in surprise at Jane. “But this is a wonderful surprise, Jake. Why did you not tell me your little servant spoke Arabic?”

Dominic shot her a furious look before smiling coolly at Kahlid. “I have to confess to ignorance, Ahmet. I wasn't aware that she did.”

Kahlid smiled gently at Jane and said in Arabic. “It warms my heart to hear my language on your lips, little one.” He sighed mournfully, reminding her once more of a cuddlesome teddy bear. “One gets homesick for the sound of one's own tongue.”

Jane's golden eyes were glowing with sympathy at his words.
The sheikh was really quite nice, she thought warmly. She, too, knew the longing to hear one's own language in a foreign land.

“I spent two years in Kuwait as a young child,” she replied gently in Arabic. “I am pleased that my small accomplishment brings you pleasure.”

“You may go, Jane,” Dominic interrupted abruptly. “Please give Mr. Brockmeyer our compliments.”

“No! No!” Kahlid protested, his shining eyes running eagerly over her, from the bright red curls to the tip of her sensible brown leather shoes. “Do not send her away, my friend. It pleases me to have her here. She is a most unusual type,
n'est-ce pas?
”

“Oh, most unusual,” Jake answered dryly. “You might say she's one of a kind.” His hand tightened imperceptibly on the stem of his wineglass as he gazed expressionlessly at Jane. “However, the girl has duties to perform in the kitchen. I'm afraid that you'll have to do without her.”

“The kitchen!” Kahlid scoffed. “It is criminal to send this one to the kitchen, when she could give such pleasure to me. You have any number of servants who can work in the kitchen. Send one of them!” He turned to his friend with the pleading look of a lonesome puppy. “Assign this little Jane to me as my personal steward,” he asked impulsively.

Jane's eyes widened in surprise as they flew to Jake's impassive face.

“Impossible,” he said coolly. “As I said, Jane has other duties. I assure you that you'll be quite content with the steward whom Captain Benjamin has assigned you.”

Kahlid shook his head stubbornly. “Content, perhaps, but not happy,” he argued, his eyes running almost caressingly over Jane's heart-shaped face. “I know this little Jane could make me very happy,” he finished softly.

A flicker of annoyance passed over Jake's face at Kahlid's persistence, but his tone was still even. “I said no, Ahmet.”

It appeared that Kahlid was a man who did not recognize the meaning of the word. He smiled jovially. “Then you must change your mind, my friend,” he said persuasively. “You are not usually so inhospitable to your guests. What I have asked is not unreasonable. Did I not provide you with all that you could desire when you visited my home in Algiers last year?”

“You don't understand,” Dominic said deliberately, “Jane is
my personal
servant.”

The jovial smile faded from Kahlid's face, and he sighed despondently. “I suppose that I should have suspected. Never before have you had a female servant on your yacht.” He turned back to Jane, his bright eyes regretful. “It is really too bad, little Jane; you would have brought me much pleasure.” Without waiting for a reply from the bewildered girl, he asked Jake, “If you grow weary, you will send her to me?”

Dominic smiled mockingly. “Are you not my friend?” he asked evasively. He rose and threw his napkin on the table. “Now, if you will excuse me, I'd like a word with Jane before she returns to her duties. I'll join you in a moment.”

He took Jane by the wrist and strode toward the door, forcing her almost to run to keep up with him. He did not stop until they were out of the room and on deck. When they'd reached a deserted area a little distance from the lounge, he released her wrist, but only to take her by the shoulders and swing her roughly around to face him.

His black eyes were blazing. “Was it too quiet for you?” he raged. “Was everything going so smoothly that you were compelled to raise a little hell just to make things interesting?”