Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he murmured dryly, and he leant back in the wooden chair to snag a clean mug from the side before sitting forward to lift the coffee pot and pour the hot and aromatic brew into both mugs.

  ‘It was a request, not an order,’ she sighed.

  Jordan raised dark brows as he placed her mug down on the other side of the table, frowning his irritation as he realised he was actually enjoying having his verbal sparring partner back in the house. ‘I telephoned Lucan last night,’ he informed her coolly.

  She continued to search through the bags for the croissants. ‘I know.’

  Jordan became very still as his gaze narrowed on her suspiciously. ‘You know?’

  ‘Yep.’ Stephanie smiled her satisfaction as she found the box of freshly baked pastries and took it out of the bag, putting it on the table along with the butter and honey she had obviously bought to go with them. ‘I telephoned and spoke to him before I went out shopping. He didn’t seem too happy about the fact that you woke him up at two o’clock this morning to tell him how much you didn’t appreciate him sending me here.’

  She lifted the rest of the bags unconcernedly down onto the floor to be unpacked later, moving to take out the plates and knives they needed to eat the croissants before sitting down at the table in the chair opposite his.

  Jordan’s already frayed temper hadn’t been improved the night before by his consumption of two-thirds of a bottle of red wine, and he hadn’t even noticed what time it was when the idea to telephone Lucan and take his temper out on his brother had occurred to him. Lucan’s growled responses to Jordan’s complaints had left him in little doubt as to his big brother’s displeasure at the call.

  ‘Then maybe he should have thought of that before he sent you here without asking me!’ he snarled.

  Stephanie gave a dismissive shrug as she helped herself to one of the deliciously buttery croissants. ‘He obviously completely underestimated just how rude and unreasonable you’ve become.’

  Jordan’s mouth twisted derisively. ‘No doubt you took great pleasure in enlightening him.’

  ‘I didn’t need to after you had called him at such a ridiculous hour to complain.’ Stephanie took a bite of the butter-and honey-covered croissant, almost groaning at the sensory pleasure she experienced. After being assailed with the delicious aroma of the croissants, first in the supermarket and then on the drive back to the gatehouse; they tasted just as wonderful as she had imagined they would. ‘Try one of the croissants, Jordan,’ she advised him. ‘They might help to get rid of your hangover,’ she added naughtily, before taking another delicious bite.

  It had been obvious from the used wine glass and the completely empty bottle of red wine she had found left on the table this morning that Jordan must have returned to the kitchen some time during the night. From the look of the dark shadows under his eyes and the pallor in his cheeks the red wine had done little to dispel whatever pain had been keeping him awake.

  Although he had at least brushed his hair and shaved this morning, his cleanly shaven jaw revealing its perfect squareness and the beguiling cleft in the centre. A beguilement that Stephanie resisted responding to by concentrating on the fact that he was also wearing a clean white T-shirt and faded jeans, hopefully meaning he wasn’t completely bereft of the social niceties, after all. Although she wouldn’t like to bet on it!

  Stephanie hadn’t slept that well herself the night before, aware as she had been of Jordan’s presence somewhere in the house, and discovering this morning that there was nothing she could eat for her breakfast—not even bread for toast!—hadn’t improved her mood.

  A quick telephone call to Lucan St Claire, to confirm that she had arrived safely and so far hadn’t been bodily thrown out into the Gloucestershire countryside, had resulted in his informing her that Jordan had already telephoned him during the night with the same news. Although in Jordan’s case it had obviously been in the nature of a complaint. A complaint that the older St Claire brother didn’t appear in the least concerned about. In fact, his comment had been the one Jordan had predicted—that any response from Jordan was better than the uninterest he normally showed to everything and everyone nowadays.

  Stephanie waited until Jordan had taken one of the croissants onto his plate, smothered it in butter and taken a bite before speaking again. ‘I decided to refrain from telling your brother that you had decided on sexual innuendo as the best way of getting rid of me.’

  Jordan continued to slowly chew the first mouthful of food he’d had for a couple of days, swallowing the buttery pastry before answering her. ‘Only because you knew Lucan wouldn’t be interested.’

  She shrugged. ‘Or maybe I’m just saving that complaint for another day.’

  Jordan decided there was a lot more to Stephanie McKinley than that unusually coloured hair and a taut and supple body. It surprised him how curious he was to know exactly what that lot more was.

  He leant back in his chair. ‘I should have asked last night whether or not there’s a Mr McKinley waiting for you at home.’

  She glanced down at her bare left hand. ‘No ring.’

  ‘Not all the married women I know wear a wedding ring,’ Jordan drawled.

  ‘That’s probably because the married women you meet don’t want you to know that they’re married,’ Stephanie pointed out.

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t get involved with married women.’

  ‘No?’

  His mouth firmed. ‘No.’

  ‘Because of your parents’ divorce?’

  Jordan drew in a sharp breath. ‘And what do you know about my parents’ divorce?’

  She shrugged as she stood up to place her empty plate neatly inside the dishwasher. ‘Only that during interviews you use it as an excuse for never having considered marriage yourself.’

  ‘It happens to be a fact, not an excuse.’ He pushed his empty plate away to stand up abruptly.

  Stephanie knew she had annoyed Jordan intensely with her mention of his parents’ divorce. Not quite the reaction she’d wanted from him, but it was probably better than no reaction at all!

  She gave a knowing smile. ‘I can’t imagine any woman ever daring to be unfaithful to the famous Jordan Simpson.’

  His eyes glittered a bright, intense gold. ‘My father was unfaithful, not my mother.’

  Reason enough, Stephanie decided, for Jordan never to know that she was being named—albeit completely falsely—as the ‘other woman’ in an ex-patient’s divorce!

  He thrust a hand through his hair. ‘I’ll be in my study for the rest of the morning.’

  ‘Doing what?’ She moved so that she was standing in front of the door that led out into the hallway.

  He frowned at her. ‘None of your damned business!’

  ‘Maybe I could help?’

  ‘And maybe you could stay the hell out of my face!’ He glared down at her.

  Maybe getting in his face hadn’t been such a good idea, Stephanie recognised uncomfortably, as she became aware of the heat of Jordan’s body and the glittering intensity of those mesmerising gold-coloured eyes. ‘When I spoke to Lucan this morning, he mentioned that there’s a heated indoor pool at Mulberry Hall …’

  Jordan raised a brow. ‘And?’

  ‘And a swim might be fun.’

  Those gold eyes hardened. ‘Am I right in thinking it might also be regarded as good exercise to strengthen the muscles in my leg?’

  Stephanie felt the guilty heat of colour in her cheeks and her expression became defensive. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  He shrugged those wide and powerful shoulders. ‘Absolutely nothing.’ His mouth thinned. ‘If I wanted to exercise the muscles in my leg. Which I don’t,’ he added emphatically.

  She sighed. ‘Why don’t you?’

  A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Get out of my way, Stephanie.’

  She gave a firm shake of her head, her chin raised. She refused to move. ‘Not until you explain to me why y
ou don’t even seem to want to try to get back the full mobility of your leg.’

  A red haze seemed to pass in front of Jordan’s eyes as this woman’s persistent questions managed to pierce his armour once again. ‘Don’t be so stupid!’

  ‘So you do want to get back the use of your leg?’

  ‘What I want and what I’ve got are two different things,’ he said pointedly.

  Stephanie put a hand on his arm. ‘Then prove me wrong and come swimming with me this morning.’

  ‘Now who’s playing games?’

  ‘Come on, Jordan, it will be fun,’ she cajoled.

  ‘Don’t force me into making you move, Stephanie,’ he bit out between gritted teeth.

  ‘Could you do that?’ Her chin rose another determined notch. ‘Do you really think you’re physically capable at the moment of making me—or anyone else—do anything?’

  Jordan’s fingers tightened about his cane as the taunt struck him with the force of a blow. ‘You vicious little—!’

  She gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘No one said you had to like me in order for me to help you.’

  ‘I don’t remember asking for your help,’ he ground out as his eyes glittered down at her in warning.

  ‘Whether you ask for it or not, you certainly need it.’

  Jordan breathed deeply as he continued to glare down at Stephanie McKinley’s five feet six inches of slender shapeliness. And stubbornness. Let’s not forget the bone-deep stubbornness so evident in her determined expression, Jordan told himself.

  He deliberately, slowly, allowed his gaze to move lower, to where her breasts pressed against her T-shirt.

  Having him staring so intently at her breasts wasn’t exactly conducive to her feeling as if she were in control of this situation, Stephanie acknowledged. And she had decided during her own virtually sleepless night that being in control was going to be necessary from now on, if she was going to get anywhere in bringing about this man’s recuperation.

  Especially as that gaze alone was enough to cause her nipples to harden noticeably beneath the soft material of her T-shirt, so that they now stood out like ripe berries begging to be eaten!

  Stephanie could never remember feeling this sexual tension with any of the men she had dated. Or the flare of electricity that seemed to spark between herself and Jordan whenever they were in a room together. Or the need to halt the impulse she felt to wrap her arms protectively over those betraying breasts!

  She determinedly continued to resist that impulse as she kept her gaze fixed steadily on Jordan’s arrogantly handsome face. Instead, she drew in an irritated breath. ‘I’m here on a professional basis, Mr Simpson—or Mr St Claire—whatever I’m to call you—not to provide you with amusement!’

  Jordan wasn’t as sure of that as Stephanie appeared to be. For days, weeks after the accident, there had been dozens of visitors to the hospital where he had been taken for treatment—many of them women he had been involved with in the past or who would have liked to have become involved with him in the future. Not a single one of them had succeeded in arousing the heated response in him that Stephanie McKinley had almost from the moment he’d first looked at her. Nor given him the perverse enjoyment he felt during their verbal exchanges.

  Admittedly, he had been in even more pain immediately after the accident than he was now, and so hardly in the mood for physical arousal. But he was still in a lot of pain, and he only had to look at Stephanie to know he wanted to strip her bare and lie her down on the nearest bed, before kissing and caressing every freckled inch of her.

  He focused his gaze on the fullness of her provocatively pouting mouth. Lips that Jordan could all too easily imagine taking him to the heights of pleasure.

  ‘Parts of your body don’t seem to be in agreement with that statement,’ he taunted, with a knowing glance at her full and obviously aroused breasts.

  Stephanie’s cheeks burned uncomfortably as she felt an increase in the sexual tension that had flared so suddenly between the two of them. ‘It’s cold in here,’ she excused lamely.

  Jordan chuckled softly. ‘Strange. it feels the opposite to me.’

  To Stephanie too. The sexual heat between them was enough to make her cheeks flush even hotter. ‘I won’t delay you any longer,’ she muttered as she finally stepped aside to allow Jordan to leave. Willing him to leave so that she could try to calm her overheated body.

  Jordan leant on his cane and walked slowly over to the door. ‘Let me know if you decide to leave, after all.’

  ‘Why, do you intend to come and wave me off?’ she shot back dryly.

  ‘No, I’d just like to have the key to the door returned before you leave,’ came his parting shot, and he gave her one last challenging glance before leaving the kitchen.

  Stephanie sank back down into the kitchen chair once she was alone, and poured herself another cup of the deliciously strong but now cooling coffee Jordan had made earlier.

  What was it about the male patients she had worked with recently? She was pretty sure she hadn’t suddenly turned into some sort of sex siren or temptress, so it had to be that her job brought her into such close proximity to those patients that it made her an easy target.

  Whatever the reason, Stephanie knew she was going to have much more trouble resisting Jordan’s advances than she ever had the lecherous and totally obnoxious Richard Newman’s!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘WHAT do you want now?’ Jordan asked impatiently as he looked across the desk to where Stephanie loitered in the open doorway of the study where he had been working for the last hour.

  She was completely undeterred by his obvious lack of enthusiasm. ‘I was thinking of going for a walk, and wondered if you would care to join me?’

  Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he sat back in the leather chair behind the desk. ‘I’m not sure if you’re being deliberately insensitive again, or just a pain.’

  ‘Neither.’ Stephanie smiled.

  She had tidied and cleaned the kitchen after breakfast, dusted and vacuumed the sitting room—which didn’t look as if anyone had sat in there for some time—and made some fresh chicken soup for lunch and left it simmering on top of the Aga. On the basis that seeing that Jordan had a healthy and varied diet was part of her job of restoring him back to full health.

  With nothing else left to do, Stephanie was becoming a little bored with her own company. ‘We don’t have to go far, Jordan,’ she added cajolingly. ‘You could just take me up to Mulberry Hall and show me around if you don’t feel like going any further than that.’

  Jordan eyed her suspiciously. ‘Does this I’m-a-little-girl-in-need-of-company routine usually work?’

  ‘I’m not in need of company, and it isn’t a routine,’ she denied. ‘I just thought some fresh air might be nice.’

  ‘And exercise,’ he drawled derisively. ‘Let’s not forget the exercise!’

  ‘God, you’re a grump.’ Stephanie sighed with frustration as she turned away.

  ‘Hey, I don’t remember saying I wouldn’t go with you.’

  Stephanie turned back slowly. ‘Does that mean you will?’

  ‘Why not?’ Jordan said, and he picked up his cane and stood up. He doubted he would be able to get any more work done on the film script this morning now anyway, knowing that Stephanie was wandering about the estate. ‘Although showing you round Mulberry Hall might prove a little difficult when I can’t get up stairs,’ he added with a scowl.

  ‘You can always wait downstairs while I go and take a look upstairs,’ she reasoned practically.

  ‘You might have a sudden urge to try one of the four-poster beds!’ Jordan teased.

  ‘Oh, give it a break, Jordan,’ the little redhead growled.

  He shrugged. ‘I can’t see any point in you staying on here if I can’t make life uncomfortable for you.’

  Neither could Stephanie at the moment, but she lived in hope that she might eventually be able to change Jordan’s mind about accepting her professional help. In
the meantime, getting him to take a walk with her was better than nothing.

  ‘I’ll just go upstairs and get my thicker jacket. It’s quite cold outside for October.’

  ‘If that was your subtle way of telling me that I need to wrap up warm too, then I strongly advise you not to treat me like a child,’ Jordan told her.

  ‘I wasn’t treating you like a—’ She stopped, frowning as she realised that was exactly what she had been doing. In an effort, perhaps, to try and keep their relationship on a professional footing rather than the flirtatious one Jordan kept reducing it to with his questionable remarks. ‘I—’ She broke off again as the telephone began to ring.

  Well … one of them. There was an extension for the landline on the desktop, as well as two mobiles—one black and one silver. Stephanie could understand the landline, but who needed two mobiles, for goodness’ sake?

  Jordan picked up the black mobile, checking the caller ID before taking the call. ‘Hi, Crista,’ he said, and he turned his back on Stephanie to look out of the window.

  Stephanie stared at the broad expanse of that muscled back, at the way the white T-shirt stretched tautly over his shoulders, and debated whether she should go or stay. The call was obviously private. From Crista Moore, the woman Jordan had been reportedly involved with before his accident.

  ‘Stay!’ Jordan barked as he turned and saw that Stephanie was about to leave.

  ‘Woof, woof! ‘ She wrinkled her nose at him before going ahead and leaving anyway.

  Jordan found himself smiling as he watched the sway of those curvaceous hips and taut bottom as Stephanie walked down the hallway. She really was the most—

  ‘No, I wasn’t talking to you, Crista,’ he said lightly into the receiver as the caller queried his last comment. ‘Oh, just a—an associate of my brother’s,’ he said evasively, easily able to imagine the tall, slender blonde actress as she sat in her apartment in LA.

  Of all the people Jordan had known before the accident, Crista was definitely the most persistent—calling him at least once a week to see how he was and when he would be coming back to LA. As Jordan had no intention of ever resuming their relationship, any more than he had immediate plans to return to LA, he usually kept those telephone calls short.