by Joan Hohl
This time there was no sense of urgency to Jonas’s lovemaking. His kiss was warm, sweet, seductive. Clinging to him, Val returned his kiss fervently. And after three years he knew exactly how to draw passion from her.
His broad hands encased her small, tip-tilted breasts, long fingers stroking the dusky peaks into quivering arousal. The touch of his tongue made her cry out with pleasure and with need. Val arched her back when he drew her into his mouth, and shuddered in response to his hungry suckling.
When Jonas brought his mouth back to hers, Val wrenched a receptive moan and shudder from him by gliding her palms down his torso and encasing him in her hands.
“Oh, Lord, Val, don’t stop!” Jonas groaned, as she lightly danced her fingers along his length. His breathing rough, erratic, he endured her ministrations for as long as possible before whispering, “Bring me to you, love.”
Once again the tension coiled inside Valerie. And when at last it snapped, she clung to Jonas’s solid form to keep from being swept away in the flood of ecstatic release.
Feeling warm and replete, Valerie burrowed close to Jonas as she drifted back to reality. She made a purrlike sound and arched luxuriously in response to the hand that was stroking her from shoulder to hip.
“We’re fantastic together,” Jonas murmured, gliding his palm to the base of her spine. “Aren’t we?”
“Yes.” Val smiled in appreciation of the soothing care he never failed to give to her in the afterglow of their lovemaking.
“And you love me?” he asked in a low-pitched voice, continuing his ministrations.
“Yes,” Val breathed, again moving luxuriously against him, basking in his attention.
“And you promise never to leave me?” Jonas whispered, trailing his fingers slowly up her body to capture and tease one quivering breast.
“Yes.” Val shivered in response to the tormenting stroke of his fingers.
“And you’ll forget this nonsense about going to San Francisco without me?” he asked softly.
Floating on the sensuous web Jonas had woven around her, Val was about to murmur one more yes, when his question registered. Another fact registered, as well. Jonas had set out with calculated intent to bemuse and confuse her into capitulating to his wishes!
“No!” Forgetting his warning and her own contrition of a short time ago, Val administered a smart smack to his exposed flank. “Darn you, Jonas!” she exclaimed. Ignoring his grunt of pain, she scrambled away from him. He reached for her, but she avoided his hands by rolling off the side of the bed. “You’re trying to manipulate me, and I don’t like it.”
“Valerie, come back here,” Jonas barked, as she stormed toward the bathroom.
Unaware of the alluring picture she made standing framed in the doorway, Val spun around and planted her hands on her hips. “Is that an order, Mr. Thorne, sir?” Arching her raven’s-wing eyebrows disdainfully, Val raised her chin and glared at him with outraged defiance.
With the agility of a much younger man, Jonas leaped from the bed and stalked after her. “Damn it, Val, will you wait a minute?” he growled when she turned and dashed into the bathroom.
“For what?” she retorted. “To give you time to think up some other method of persuasive control?” She swung the door closed, but was a heartbeat too slow. The palm of Jonas’s hand caught the door a hairbreadth from the frame.
“I’m not trying to control you,” he said, forcing her to retreat before the pressure he was applying to the door.
“Ha!” Val exclaimed in ridicule. “In one manner or another, you’ve exerted control over me from the day we met.” She gave a sharp shake of her head, then corrected herself. “No. You were in control long before we actually met.”
Jonas sliced one hand through the air with a gesture of dismissal. “I was your employer. The control I had then was minimal.”
“Yes, when I first came to work for you, and when I worked in your Paris office,” Val conceded. “But you have been in control, in one form or another, ever since you brought me back to the States with you three years ago.”
Jonas had the look of a man teetering on the brink of losing his patience. “You needed someone to take control when I brought you back from France,” he retorted. “At the time, you were barely able to think straight, let alone make the simplest decision for yourself.”
Stung, because his harsh assertion was true, and she hated being reminded of the state she’d been in back then, Valerie was forced to take several deep, calming breaths to keep from shouting at him.
Her heaving chest drew his narrowed gaze and kindled a flame of renewed arousal in his flinty eyes. “If I’ve imposed my will over you or exerted control, it has been for your own welfare.” A revealing tightness strained his voice.
Valerie was not flattered; she was furious. “How diligent and thoughtful of you,” she said with exaggerated sweetness. Quivering in reaction to the anger searing through her, she drew herself up to her full height and glared directly into his eyes. “Well, Mr. Thorne, sir,” she continued in a scathing tone, “your diligence is no longer required. I am now able to think as straight as the next person—man or woman—and I am fully capable of making my own decisions, thank you.”
“Damn it, Val!” Jonas raked his hand through his hair. “I never said you weren’t capable.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” she said grittily. “Because my decision is made. I am going to San Francisco next month…with or without your approval!”
Jonas stared at her in cold fury, his expression frozen, his mouth tight. Val returned his stare until she thought she’d scream, just to break the tension crackling in the small space that separated them. When at last he broke the silence, his voice was hard, dismissive, hurtful.
“Do what the hell you want.” Turning, Jonas stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him with deliberate force.
Val had to bite her lip to stop herself calling out after him. She took a step forward, then stopped. Not this time, she thought, shaking her head sharply. She would not run after Jonas this time. She had been that route before…almost exactly three years before. That time, her impulsive action had cost her the life of her child. This time it might cost her the budding life of her individuality.
But he had looked so alone in his fierceness.
Stop it, Val ordered herself. Just stop it right there. If Jonas now felt alone, it was because he had withdrawn, removed himself from the trials and tribulations of everyday life. If he didn’t see the pain and striving of those closest to him, it was because he refused to look, observe, become involved.
It hurt to become involved. Val sighed. She was living proof of how very much it hurt to become involved. She had gone through the process not once, but twice.
Strange how the memory of her first experience with pain had paled into insignificance with the advent of her love for Jonas, Val mused, as she turned on the taps and adjusted the water temperature. Stepping into the stall, she stood directly under the shower spray. The warm water cascaded over her tired body, easing the tension from her mind and muscles.
Her first involvement.
Etienne.
The name whispered through her mind, bringing a bittersweet smile to Val’s lips. Absently lathering shampoo into her hair, she slipped into a reverie about the man she had almost married.
Val had loved the gentle, elegant Frenchman, handsome brother of the equally handsome Jean-Paul. And Etienne had died. Val had watched him die. At the time, she had truly believed that all her hopes and dreams for the future had died with him.
Despondent, Val had wallowed in her grief for nearly a year, listless, without interest in the world around her, not caring either for herself or for the effect her carelessness was having on the Paris office of J.T. Electronics.
Then Jonas Thorne himself had flown into Paris, bringing with him Janet Peterson—and the winds of change. When he’d flown out again, back to Philadelphia, Jonas had taken with him a very unwilling Valerie
.
And Valerie had felt an immediate and surprising antipathy toward Jonas Thorne.
Val’s bittersweet smile curved wryly as she turned off the water and stepped from the shower. How she had resented the man’s dynamic personality. His arrogance. His impatience. And his indifference. Even in the numbed state her mind had been in, Val had experienced an unprecedented surge of resentment for her cold-eyed employer.
Now, three years later, Val could smile with amused remembrance of how those feelings had quickly evolved, first into respect, then into admiration for Jonas. It had been because of her growing respect that she had allowed him to talk her into a mutually convenient proposition of marriage.
Smoothing a delicately scented lotion into every inch of skin she could reach, Val winced as she recalled the spineless twit she had been. But then, she mused thoughtfully, even a strong-willed woman wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against the determined Jonas. Not three years ago. Not today, either, come to think of it.
Val laughed softly to herself as she recapped the bottle, then wiped the excess lotion from her hands. In her now expert opinion, holding out against Jonas was like trying to halt the incoming tide or attempting to stop a tank with your bare hands.
When Jonas Thorne set his sights on something, be it a business deal or a woman, he played hardball. And when he was in high gear, both the weak and the strong had better head for the hills.
In high gear, Jonas Thorne was a sight to behold. Nobody knew it better than the woman he slept with.
And, having slept with Jonas for over three years, Valerie knew him very well—not completely, not entirely, and definitely not as well as she’d like, but very well indeed.
Val had thought Jonas was operating in high gear when he had unceremoniously whisked her back to the States from France. She had thought the same when he had overridden all her objections and talked her into marrying him. In retrospect, Val realized that in both endeavors Jonas had been merely coasting. Valerie had only seen Jonas shift into high gear the morning after she had slept with him for the first time.
They had been married less than twenty-four hours and were ostensibly on their honeymoon. Jonas had received an early-morning phone call, informing him of an impending business fight. The phone call had catapulted him into high gear and had put an end to their honeymoon.
Val had always believed that if they had had more time alone together, away from the pressures and stress of Jonas’s work, they might have avoided the disastrous results of misunderstanding. But they hadn’t had that time.
The business battle had raged for over a month, and Jonas had revealed a new facet of his character. When he was mad, really mad, Jonas was a powerhouse of energy, and he swore like a dockworker.
In awe and a little fearful of him, Valerie had kept her suspicions of being pregnant to herself. He had enough to contend with, she’d reasoned, without the added distraction of wondering about a possibility that might prove false with her very next normal cycle.
But then, immediately following his triumph in the business war, Jonas sprang the news on Val that his daughter would be returning home from the school she had been attending in Switzerland…on the same day that he was expecting the arrival of a liaison from the offices of a French business associate.
Even now, three years later, Valerie cringed inwardly at the memory of that disastrous day. For when Jonas returned to the house from collecting Mary Beth at the airport, he had with him her mother Lynn, his former wife. And as Val swiftly realized, the still-beautiful Lynn was a certified witch. She was also furious that Jonas had remarried, since she had clearly hoped to remarry him herself.
As if the confusion of meeting both Mary Beth and her acid-tongued mother wasn’t enough, the French liaison arrived, and just happened to be Etienne’s brother, Jean-Paul.
If they had had time alone together! Val had to laugh at the thought. She had known that Jonas had offered to house the liaison until he could secure a place of his own. But she had been stunned to discover that Lynn would be staying at the house during her visit, as well.
Large though Jonas’s home was, Val had suddenly felt that she could hardly move without tripping over somebody. For, besides Jonas, Mary Beth, Lynn, Jean-Paul and Val, there was also Lynn’s mother, Marge, who had shared Jonas’s home since Mary Beth was an infant.
The mere memory of those tension-filled weeks boggled Val’s mind. A chill feathered her naked skin, jolting her out of her introspection.
After slipping a lace and satin nightgown over her head, Val picked up her brush and dryer and turned to face the image reflected in the long mirror above the vanity.
The sodden mass of her black hair was daunting. With a sigh, Val set to work brushing the tangles from the long strands. For years she had worn her naturally curly hair short. But Jonas preferred it long.
The below-shoulder length her hair had attained said reams about how effectively she held out against Jonas, when it came to the crunch.
Not this time, Val vowed to her tight-lipped reflection.
She and Jonas had spent their one-night honeymoon in San Francisco. She had conceived her baby there. Jonas had promised to take her back. He had never mentioned it again.
With a final flip of the brush to her gleaming dry hair, Val set brush and dryer on the vanity. Tilting her chin, she gazed into the mirror and made a promise to herself.
She was going to San Francisco.
Chapter 3
“You did what?”
Valerie smiled at the look of astonishment on her companion’s face. Janet Peterson had been Val’s friend for over ten years, but she had known and worked for Jonas a lot longer. “I said I slapped him,” Val repeated.
“Jonas!” Janet exclaimed in a shocked whisper that blended into the muted buzz of the lunchtime conversation from the other patrons, primarily female, in the small suburban Philadelphia restaurant, located within minutes of the home office of J.T. Electronics.
“Twice,” Val confessed, omitting to add that the second slap had been to his naked flank.
“Incredible.”
“Yes, I know.” Val sighed. “I’m still having difficulty believing it myself.” Her shoulders moved in a brief, helpless shrug. “I, ah, lost my temper.”
“Well, that explains everything.” Janet’s expression was wry. “You really have changed,” she observed, studying Valerie over the rim of the wineglass she’d raised to her lips.
“Have I?” Val frowned.
Janet rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? Good grief, Val. Two years ago you wouldn’t have dreamed of slapping anybody.” She gave an abrupt laugh and shook her head. “Now you’ve slapped Jonas? Yes, I’d say you have changed quite a bit.”
Valerie gnawed on her lower lip while contemplating her friend’s opinion. She had suffered pangs of remorse and regret for striking Jonas through every one of the four days since that night. She had also suffered stabs from her conscience. Was she becoming too independent and aggressive in her determination to be her own person? More importantly, would she run the risk of losing Jonas if she continued toward the goal of equality that she had set for herself?
On the other hand, Val’s emerging assertiveness had countered with the stark declaration that she couldn’t revert to the pliable lump of clay she’d been when Jonas had literally taken over her life.
This inner conflict had been Val’s primary reason for inviting Janet to lunch. Of all the women Val knew, Janet was the most liberated and sensible. So, if Janet thought she was going too far, Val figured she’d better rethink her game plan.
Of course, Janet hadn’t actually said she thought Val was overdoing the feminist bit—only that Val had changed. Deciding to find out how Janet felt, Val went directly to the point.
“In what way have I changed?” she asked. “For the better? Worse? How?”
Janet, being Janet, laughed at Val’s blunt demand for answers. “Oh, definitely for the better,” she said with conviction. �
�I’d say you’ve come pretty much into your own.” Her grin was purely feline. “By thinking for yourself, you’ve not only shaken Jonas up, you’ve given him something to think about—I mean besides electronics.”
Though she felt a measure of relief, Val murmured, “But I shouldn’t have hit him.”
Janet shrugged. “Probably not…since striking out physically never solves anything.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “Did he provoke it?”
“Yes,” Val answered without hesitation.
Janet responded with a shrug. “Then don’t worry about it. It’s not the end of the world, you know.”
Val sighed. “But it was rather childish.”
“Maybe.” Janet eyed her speculatively. “Nevertheless, you have definitely matured.”
“I guess everyone needs to grow up sometime, Janet.” Val’s voice took on a defensive edge. “And, in my case, I’d say it’s long overdue. I’m going to be thirty-one years old.”
Janet was noticeably unimpressed, but then, it took a great deal to impress Janet. She had often said that her insouciance was a result of Jonas’s influence. “Getting brave in your old age, too, are you?” She arched one eyebrow.
Valerie made a sour face, which was unrelated to the taste of her wine. “No,” she admitted.
“Yet you slugged him.”
“It was pure reflex.” Val set her glass on the table beside her half-eaten salad. “I didn’t think… I reacted.”
“May one ask what provocation you reacted to?”
A spark of amusement lighted Valerie’s eyes. “You mean you can’t guess?”
“You told Jonas about your decision to attend that rally or whatever in San Francisco?” Janet asked.
“Yes.” Valerie was not about to tell Janet the intimate details, but she felt no compunction at revealing the reason for the argument.