by Joan Hohl
Some of Val’s resentment seeped through her guard. “Why, Janet Peterson, surely you’re not suggesting we let ourselves go to pot and simply enjoy life?”
Janet eyed her shrewdly as they left the building and headed for the parking lot. “You’re tired of it, too, huh?”
Val sighed. “Not the exercises. I usually enjoy the workout. I suppose I’m just in a bad mood tonight.”
Janet stopped beside Val’s car. “And I suppose I’m just having pre-wedding jitters.” Her grin was unrepentant. “But I still hate the exercises.” She started to move toward her own car, then paused to ask, “By the way, did you buy that gown you were telling me about?”
“Yes.”
“What did Jonas say?”
“Nothing.”
“Really!” Janet exclaimed. “Incredible.”
“He hasn’t seen it yet,” Val admitted.
“Well, good luck, with Jonas and with Lynn tomorrow night.” With a grin and a wave, Janet turned away. “If the witch gives you a hard time, haul off and belt her. No one deserves it more.” Her laughter wafted back to Val on the warm spring air.
Valerie mulled over Janet’s parting sally all the way home. And the more she mulled it over, the madder she got.
Without a shadow of a doubt, Val knew that Jonas would have a fit when she showed him the dress. The realization rankled.
Why shouldn’t she buy any damn dress she wanted? she asked herself irritably. Why shouldn’t any woman, come to that? Men bought and wore whatever they chose, didn’t they?
So the dress was a little daring, she railed. So what. It certainly didn’t overstep the bounds of decency, and she looked pretty terrific in it, if she did say so herself.
Oh, but she knew, knew too well what Jonas would say, Val thought, kicking her anger into high gear. He’d very likely give her that cold, arrogant look of his and ask her what kind of game she was planning to stalk.
What was it with the male of the species, anyway? Val fumed. What was it in their thinking process that prevented them from affording the female the same rights as they demanded for themselves?
And why, when he devoted the majority of his energy and time to his professional pursuits, did Jonas object so strenuously to his wife wanting to plumb the depths of her own capabilities? Now Val carried her furious stream of consciousness to the personal level. Why couldn’t he see or understand her need to feel his equal in situations and circumstances other than those requiring a prone position in a bed?
And why should she be expected to endure his former wife’s waspish remarks? Val asked herself in outrage. Everyone, from Janet and the rest of Jonas’s employees to Jonas himself, knew that Lynn derived pleasure from baiting Val. And, though Jonas generally ignored Lynn and had advised Val to do likewise, she was thoroughly fed up with the tiresome woman.
By the time she made a sharp turn into the driveway, Val had whipped herself into a righteous fury and was spoiling for a fight.
One was waiting for her.
* * *
Standing at the bedroom window, Jonas narrowed his eyes as he watched the car’s headlights precede the silver Cadillac into the driveway. Behind him, Val’s new gown lay in a crumpled heap on the bed, where he had flung it in unbridled anger.
Val had been gone less than three hours, but that was enough time for Jonas to work himself into a jealous rage.
And all because of an innocent, if marginally daring, chiffon confection in the exact same shade of violet as his wife’s hauntingly beautiful eyes.
He had discovered the dress while seeking to relieve his boredom. Not that it had been hidden away; it hadn’t been. It had been on the bed, still in the distinctive department store box, where Val had obviously placed it on her return from shopping.
Restless after finishing the delicious meal Val had prepared for him, which he had no more than picked at, Jonas had wandered upstairs. His intention had been to work until Val came home, but he never made it into the office. On entering the bedroom, Jonas couldn’t help but notice the packages strewed across the bed.
Wryly wishing that he and Val were cluttering the spread instead of the parcels, he idly crossed to the bed and curiously began examining the contents of the assortment of bags and boxes. The wrapped wedding gift brought a grunt of satisfaction from his throat. The skimpy pieces of satin and lace he uncovered in another package brought a smile to his lips and an ache to his loins. The low-cut bodice on the shimmering gown, on the other hand, sent a quiver of uncertainty shafting through him.
The gown was beautiful, and would look even more so draped on Val’s sylphlike body. A frown drew Jonas’s brows together. Val had never before bought or worn anything quite so suggestive, at least not to his knowledge, and not for him. Why had she purchased this particular gown now? Had she bought it to take with her to San Francisco? Jonas felt positive that she had. The gown was obviously expensive. The price didn’t upset Jonas, but Val’s reason for buying it did bother him.
With little effort, Jonas could imagine how Val would look with the shimmering dress floating around her ankles and her gorgeous hair swirling around her bared shoulders. The image was so sharp, so appealing that he caught his breath.
But why had she bought the gown to wear when he wouldn’t be with her? Jonas asked himself, feeling anger stir. The question repeated itself throughout the hours Val was away.
Intellectually, Jonas knew his anger was unwarranted. But his emotions were running close to the surface. Jonas wasn’t feeling intellectual or even logical. He was feeling the sharp claws of jealousy.
Was Val tired of competing with his obsession for his work? Tired enough to seek solace in the attentions of another man? Jonas didn’t want to believe that Val would deceive him. But jealousy clouded his thinking and ignited his temper.
All because he had opened a box and found a gown seemingly made for seduction.
Responding to his own unsettling thoughts, Jonas crushed the filmy material in his clenched fists, then flung it away from him.
Jonas was still standing at the window, his expression frozen, when Val entered the bedroom. He didn’t turn around until he heard her startled gasp.
“Jonas, what…?” Val’s voice trailed away as she ran to the bed.
“What did you buy it for?” he asked, turning to watch her carefully lift the gown from the bed.
The look she sent him held dawning comprehension. Without having to hear him admit to the act, she knew he had deliberately tossed the gown into a heap. “I bought it to wear to the dinner and reception being held the last night of the rally,” she replied angrily, examining the dress for possible damage.
“If it’s still in one piece,” he said, as she held the garment aloft and gently shook it, “take it back.”
Val raised her chin in a familiar gesture of defiance. “I most certainly will not take it back. I am taking it to California.” Her tone was tight with determination. Crossing to the walk-in closet, she disappeared inside. When she emerged, her hands were empty, and planted on her narrow hips. “And I am going to wear it to the reception.” The glitter in her eyes defied him to forbid her to do either.
“Are you planning to come back from California?” Jonas asked, not even certain he wanted to hear her answer to the question that had just occurred to him.
Val’s expression went blank an instant, then her eyes flew wide with surprise. “Yes, of course I’m coming back!” she exclaimed. “Why would you even dream that I wouldn’t?”
The breath Jonas hadn’t realized he was holding eased from his constricted chest. “That dress.” He flicked his hand at the closet. “It’s the kind of thing a woman wears when she’s trying to attract male attention.”
Val looked astonished. The next moment, her eyes flashed with anger. Then she exploded. “Jonas Thorne, that is the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever made! It ranks right up there with the blanket condemnations made by the idiots who maintain that a woman is inviting physical attack by
the way she dresses.” Moving slowly, she walked to within inches of him. Her voice was soft, but held a steel thread of warning. “Watch yourself, mister. You’re getting fast and loose with your accusations…and I’m getting pretty damn tired of hearing them.”
She was right. Jonas knew she was right. His remark wasn’t merely ridiculous, it was stupid. Jonas didn’t like feeling ridiculous and stupid. He didn’t like feeling jealous, either. But, since he’d never experienced any of these feelings before falling in love with Val, Jonas didn’t know quite how to back out of the corner he’d talked himself into.
Besides, there was his pride to contend with.
“I haven’t accused you of anything,” he finally replied. “But you can’t blame a man for objecting to his wife parading around half-naked in front of other men when he’s not with her.” The instant the words were out of his mouth, Jonas knew he was in even deeper trouble.
“Half-naked!” Val erupted like a volcano. “Parade! How dare you! I never parade around in front of men…naked or otherwise.” She raised her hand, and Jonas’s eyes narrowed in warning. But all she did was tap him on the chest, hard, with her small index finger. “And, for your information, Mr. Thorne, the only reason my husband won’t be around is simply because he refuses to accompany his wife.”
She scored a bull’s-eye. Jonas felt it, but wasn’t about to concede the bout. “You never said a word about the damned rally until you called to inform me that you were going to San Francisco. I didn’t refuse to accompany you,” he shot back. “I wasn’t invited along.” But Jonas had to admit to himself that had she asked him to go with her, he would have refused, all the while assuming that with his refusal, Val would not go by herself. All the same, when it came to confessing to Val what he admitted to himself, pride got in the way.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t go,” Val countered.
“Someone has to work to pay for things like cars and jewelry and expensive gowns that are only half there,” he retaliated without thinking.
Val literally bristled. “Someone wouldn’t have to, if he weren’t so dead set against his wife working!”
“Don’t start that again,” Jonas growled, his anger renewed by that old bone of contention. “Why can’t you be content just being my wife?”
“Would you be?” Val demanded.
“What?”
“Reverse our positions, Jonas,” she said patiently. “Then ask yourself if you’d be content to stay home, twiddling your thumbs and vegetating.”
Jonas was outflanked and knew it. He was a fair man and had never treated any woman with less than equality. But he had a blind spot about Val. It had been that way from the beginning. She was exclusively his. He wanted to maintain the status quo.
So, even though he knew intellectually that he was being unfair, Jonas was caught in an emotional web that had been reinforced by ego and pride. By rights, he knew he should back down. Hell, by rights he knew he owed Val an apology. But pride, ego and emotional entanglement dominated. Instead of backing down, Jonas attacked.
“But our positions aren’t reversed. I’m not a woman. You are.” Lifting his hand, Jonas caught her delicate chin with hard fingers. His voice was harsh with warning. “You are my woman. And don’t you ever forget it.”
Chapter 4
Valerie lay beside Jonas in the big bed, separated from him physically by mere inches, but emotionally by miles. Her body was taut, quivering in reaction to the anger simmering inside her tired mind.
His woman.
The taunt sprang into her mind every time she began to relax, releasing a fresh onslaught of anger. Half an hour had passed since Jonas had coldly informed Val that she belonged to him. The scene following his pronouncement had been replayed inside her head repeatedly during that tense span of time.
“I’m not a thing, Jonas!” Val had cried.
“I didn’t say you were. I said you were a woman.”
“You said I was your woman.”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
Jonas’s smile was maddeningly triumphant. “End of argument. I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”
The memory of the frustration she had experienced, was still experiencing, had Val grinding her teeth. Turning away from her without another word, Jonas had proceeded to undress. Then, sweeping the packages off the bed and dropping them into one of the easy chairs by the window, he crawled between the sheets, leaving her fuming. She had no option but to follow suit.
Val had considered sleeping in the guest room, but rejected the notion out of pure stubbornness. Jonas had had his way once too often, she’d decided, beginning with his insistence that they marry, and ending with his insistence that she remain at home, playing the role of dutiful wife. She had retreated before his commanding personality for the last time. She would not retreat again.
Tossing off her clothes, Val had climbed onto the very edge of the king-size mattress. She had literally clung there, seething, ever since.
“Val?”
His soft voice alerted her an instant before his arm curled around her waist to haul her against his naked body. His aroused naked body. Val went stiff with outrage and disbelief. Surely he didn’t think she’d…? But of course he did, she thought, incensed. She was his woman, wasn’t she?
“I love you, Val.” Looming over her, Jonas lowered his head to hers.
Val pulled her head away as his mouth brushed hers. “Let me go, Jonas,” she ordered through gritted teeth.
Ignoring her command, Jonas slowly glided his palm from her waist to her hip and over her flat belly, taking possession of the soft mound below as he planned to take possession of her whole body…as if by right of ownership.
Passion unfurled deep inside Val, strong and urgent. Fighting her response to his nearness, his touch, she clenched her teeth. She couldn’t allow him to do this again, she told herself. She would not! Stiff muscles beginning to grow warm and pliant, she strained against his hold.
Jonas tested her resistance by caressing the corner of her mouth with his parted lips. “The argument’s over, ended.” A smile hovered on his lips. “Come, love, kiss me, make love with me, it’s not like you to sulk,” he murmured, inadvertently freeing her from the sensuous spell he alone could induce.
“I’m not sulking.” Val’s voice was soft, raspy from her effort to control the urge to shout at him.
Mistaking the husky sound for passion, Jonas worked his long fingers between her tightly closed thighs. “Then why don’t you relax? Why won’t you kiss me?”
“Because I’m mad, Jonas,” Val said angrily. “And when I’m mad, I’m mad all over.” Clasping his wrist, she pushed his hand away. “Now get your hands off me.”
His surprise and shock apparent, Jonas grew absolutely still. Val saw the color seep from his face, then rush back, flaring darkly under the taut skin over his jutting cheekbones.
Staring at him, Val lay rigid and shivering, waiting for his reaction. When it came, it was abrupt and violent. Muttering a string of curses that singed her ears, Jonas threw back the covers and leaped from the bed. Every muscle in his trim, magnificent body taut with tension, he stared down at her from narrowed eyes.
“I’m sorry if my touch is repulsive to you,” he said with unrelenting harshness.
Although his set features were devoid of expression, Val could sense the pain of rejection and humiliation he was suffering. Jolting upright, she reached out to him. “Jonas, I didn’t say or mean that I find your touch repulsive. I don’t. You know I don’t. But I can’t go on—”
“Spare me the excuses,” Jonas interrupted her in a hard tone. “I don’t need them.” Spinning on his heel, he strode from the room, slamming the door after him.
Val’s extended arm fell limply to her thigh and she stared at the door until the tears filling her eyes blurred her vision. She had started to say that she couldn’t go on acting as if nothing had happened, while the dissension between them remained unresolv
ed. Why hadn’t Jonas listened? More importantly, why didn’t he ever hear her, even when he did listen?
Chilled on the inside and outside, Val lay down again, this time on Jonas’s side of the bed. Suddenly it seemed enormous. Feeling the warmth left from his body, inhaling the masculine scent of him, she curled into a ball of misery beneath the covers. Val rarely gave way to tears. But now she was alone, with no one to see her submit to despair. Burying her face in the indentation made by his head, Val sobbed into Jonas’s pillow.
* * *
His muscles locked with tension, Jonas lay in the unfamiliar bed, alternately cursing and berating himself for his uncivilized behavior. But though he was disgusted, he was not surprised. He always wound up losing his temper when he and Val argued. Jonas even knew why he always lost his temper with her; the possibility of losing her scared him stupid.
She had rejected him, and that had both scared and hurt Jonas. So he’d reacted true to form by lashing out at her. Then when she had tried to explain her feelings she had scared him even more, because he’d been afraid she was going to say she couldn’t go on with him any longer. So he’d cut her off.
He had been hurt, and he’d wanted to hurt her back. Yet now, alone in a strange bed, aching for her in every cell of his body, Jonas was hurting as much for Val as for himself.
Val had ordered him to take his hands off her.
That had been his problem from the first time he saw her. Jonas groaned. He just couldn’t keep his hands off her.
Rolling onto his side, Jonas curled into a ball and punched the pillow.
Damn it! Why did being in love have to hurt so much?
The question kept Jonas awake most of the night.