Her mouth firmed. ‘At the risk of repeating myself—I am not here for your amusement.’
‘Repeat yourself all you like, Stephanie,’ he said. ‘The only things you can do for me at the moment are feed me or amuse me. I’ll leave it up to you which one you want to do at any given time …’
Stephanie stared at him furiously for several seconds. ‘Oh, just go away, will you?’ she finally huffed irritably. In all of her daydreams, all her fantasies about actually meeting Jordan Simpson, Stephanie had never once imagined herself telling him to go away!
‘I’ll take that to mean that you want time to think about what to cook me for dinner,’ Jordan said.
Stephanie shot him another frowning glare, only breathing a sigh of relief once he had left the kitchen. She heard the sound of him whistling tunelessly to himself as he walked down the corridor and then shut the study door behind him seconds later.
There had to be a way for Stephanie to get through to Jordan—to make him accept the professional help Lucan had hired her for. She just had no idea what it was!
‘Comfortable?’ Jordan asked sarcastically later that evening, as he entered the sitting room to find her curled up comfortably in one of the armchairs, the only illumination in the room coming from the warm and crackling fire she had lit in the hearth.
‘Very, thank you,’ she answered, and she sat up to swing her bare feet slowly to the floor, still wearing the dark green sweater and fitted jeans she had changed into earlier. ‘It isn’t seven o’clock yet, is it?’
Jordan’s jaw tightened, and his eyes hooded to conceal their expression as he took in how the firelight picked out every amazing colour in Stephanie’s plaited hair. ‘I’ve worked long enough for now. How was your afternoon?’ He leant heavily on his cane as he came further into the room, the pain in his hip and leg from sitting down all afternoon making his tone harsher than he’d intended.
‘Boring,’ she admitted.
He raised dark brows. ‘Boring?’
She gave a shrug. ‘I’m simply not used to sitting around all day having nothing to do.’
Boredom was something that Jordan knew a lot about, after the weeks he had spent in hospital in the States before coming here. ‘There’s lots of books in here you could have read. Or you could have gone for another walk. Or another swim,’ he added dryly.
Stephanie gave a pained wince. ‘I’m not going back in the pool until you do.’
‘Then you’ll be waiting a long time,’ Jordan rasped, scowling as moved awkwardly to drop down into the armchair opposite hers, sighing in relief to be off his hip once again. He dropped his head back against the chair to turn and look at her. ‘Do you ever wear your hair loose?’
Stephanie put a self-conscious hand up to the slightly untidy plait. ‘Not really.’
‘Then why bother to keep it long at all?’
‘I—I’ve never really thought about it.’ She frowned, very uncomfortable under the scrutiny of that piercingly narrowed gaze.
Jordan looked predatory in the firelight, his eyes an amber glitter, every sculptured angle of his face thrown into sharp relief: the harsh slash of his cheekbones, the long aristocratic nose, his hard, sensual mouth, and the strong lines of his jaw darkened by a five o’clock shadow.
Stephanie sensed a waiting stillness about him. A coiled expectancy much like a jungle cat poised to spring. With Stephanie as its prey!
She stood up abruptly, needing to escape from all that leashed power for a few minutes, at least. ‘Would you like a glass of wine before dinner?’
Jordan gave a brief smile. ‘I thought you would never ask.’
Stephanie paused in the doorway. ‘You’re in pain again, aren’t you?’ She could see by the deepening of the grooves beside his eyes and mouth and the weary droop of his head that he was inwardly battling to keep that pain under his control rather than letting it control him.
He shot her a hard look. ‘Just get the damned wine, will you?’
She bit back her own angry retort, knowing by the dangerous glitter in Jordan’s eyes that now was not the time to argue with him on the subject of the pain he was suffering. Or the unsatisfactory method he chose to dull that pain. ‘Would you like red or white?’
‘That all depends what you’re making for dinner.’
She shrugged. ‘I have potatoes and lasagne baking in the oven, and a salad made up and stored in the fridge.’
‘Red, then. Just go, will you, Stephanie?’ he urged fiercely as she still hesitated in the doorway. ‘When you come back I promise to try and do my best to make polite pre-dinner conversation.’ The harshness of his expression softened slightly.
She looked sceptical. ‘About what?’
‘How the hell should I know?’ His snappy impatience wasn’t in the least conducive to polite conversation! ‘It’s been so long since I tried that I think I’ve lost the art of small talk.’
Stephanie wasn’t sure he’d ever had it!
Even as the charming and magnetically handsome Jordan Simpson, he’d been known as a man who didn’t suffer fools gladly—a professional perfectionist, with little patience for actors less inclined to give so completely of themselves.
As Jordan St Claire, a man well away from the public limelight, he didn’t even attempt any of the social niceties, but was either caustic or mocking. That mood depended, Stephanie was fast realising, on the degree of pain he was in at the time. Right now she would say he was in a lot of pain.
‘I’ve never particularly enjoyed the shallowness of small talk, either,’ Stephanie told him.
‘Then I guess we’ll both have to work at it, won’t we?’ Jordan closed his eyes to lay his head back against the chair, his expression harsh and unapproachable.
Or just pained.
Stephanie was becoming more convinced by the moment that his hip and leg were more painful than usual this evening. She could see the effects of that pain in the dark shadows beneath those gold-coloured eyes, and in the way his skin stretched tautly over those high cheekbones and shadowed jaw. No doubt wine helped to numb that pain for a while, but it wouldn’t take it away completely.
Even though she didn’t think drinking wine was the answer, she knew that Jordan accepting some sort of help to manage his pain was better than no help at all. So she turned on her heel and sped off to get some.
‘Here you are.’ Stephanie returned from the kitchen a few minutes later to hand Jordan one of the glasses of red wine she’d brought, and placed the bottle on the table beside him before carrying her own glass across the room and resuming her seat near the warmth of the fire. ‘So, what shall we talk about?’ she prompted after a few minutes of awkward silence.
Jordan had sat up to drink half the glass of Merlot in one swallow, knowing from experience that it would take a few minutes for the alcohol to kick into his system and hopefully numb some of the pain in his hip and leg. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me about your family?’ He refilled his glass as he waited for her to answer.
She raised surprised brows. ‘What do you want to know about them?’
‘You’re really hard work, do you know that?’ he growled.
‘And you aren’t?’
‘You already know about my family,’ Jordan pointed out. ‘Two brothers, both older than me, one by two years, the other by two minutes. End of story.’
‘What about your parents? Are they both still alive?’ Stephanie sipped her own wine more slowly.
‘Just my mother. She lives in Scotland,’ Jordan answered curtly.
Stephanie seemed to expect him to say more on the subject. But Jordan had no intention of saying any more. He wasn’t going to tell her that his mother, the Duchess of Stourbridge, was desperately awaiting the marriage of her eldest son so that she could step back and become simply the Dowager Duchess. That she was impatiently waiting for any of her sons to marry and provide her with the grandchildren she so longed for. As none of those three sons had ever had a permanent woman in his life, let al
one thought of marriage, she was in for a very long wait indeed.
So instead Molly doted on her three sons. In fact if she had her way she would be down here right now, fussing over Jordan. Much as he loved and appreciated his mother, that was something he could definitely do without!
‘Your turn,’ he invited Stephanie dryly. ‘Start with your grandparents and work your way down,’ Jordan prompted as she hesitated.
She gave an awkward shrug. ‘I don’t usually discuss my private life with my patients.’
‘I thought we had agreed that I’m not your patient?’
‘Then what am I doing here?’
‘Who the hell knows?’ Jordan heard the aggression in his tone, and regretted it, but the wine was taking longer than usual to numb the pain this evening—to the point that he was gritting his teeth together so tightly he was surprised he could talk at all!
Stephanie gave him a reproving frown. ‘Very well. All four of my grandparents are still alive. As are both my parents. I—’
‘I wasn’t asking for a roll call,’ Jordan sighed. ‘Look, Stephanie, this is how it goes, okay? I ask you a polite question, you give me a pleasant answer. With details. Voilà—small talk.’
Stephanie knew what small talk was. She just didn’t have any patience for it. ‘My paternal grandparents moved to Surrey when my grandfather sold his construction business five years ago. My maternal grandparents live in Oxfordshire—my grandmother is a retired university professor, and simply couldn’t bring herself to move from the city where she had taught for so many years. My mother and father live in Kent and run a garden centre together.’
‘Better.’ Jordan nodded approvingly.
‘I have one sibling. Joey. She—’
‘Joey is a she?’
‘Short for Josephine,’ Stephanie supplied with a smile, relieved to see that some of the pained tension was starting to leave Jordan’s face. ‘But anyone calling her by that name had better be prepared to receive a black eye or worse!’
‘Worse?’
‘She put a frog down the shirt of a boy at school when he dared to tease her by chanting her full name,’ she remembered affectionately.
‘And the black eye?’
‘A man she dated for a while at university.’ Stephanie shrugged. ‘Needless to say they didn’t date again after that.’
‘No, I don’t suppose they did,’ Jordan chuckled softly as he felt his muscles starting to relax from the effects of the wine and the soothing firelight. ‘So how old is Joey and what does she do?’
‘She’s a lawyer.’
‘Aged…?’
‘Late twenties,’ Stephanie answered evasively before taking a sip of her own wine; she had known exactly where this conversation was going the moment Jordan asked to know about her family!
‘Older or younger than you?’
‘Slightly younger.’
Jordan gave her a considering glance, sensing there was something that Stephanie wasn’t telling him. ‘How much younger?’ he prompted slowly.
Her eyes glittered in the firelight as she glared across at him. ‘About five minutes!’
‘Why, Stephanie,’ Jordan murmured teasingly, ‘does this mean that you’re a twin, too?’
Her mouth thinned. ‘Yes.’
‘And are you identical?’
‘Yes.’
Jordan’s brows rose incredulously. ‘You mean there are two of you with that unusual red and cinnamon-coloured hair, those flashing green eyes, a determined chin and an infuriatingly stubborn temperament?’
Those green eyes instantly flashed. ‘I do not have a stubborn temperament!’
‘And the grass isn’t green or the sky blue,’ he retorted.
‘Sometimes they aren’t!’ she pointed out triumphantly.
‘I’m sure that once in a blue moon you aren’t stubborn, either,’ Jordan jeered. He gave her a considering look. ‘Let me guess—Joey has short red hair and tends to wear mainly dark business suits and silk blouses?’
Stephanie gasped. ‘How could you possibly know that?
Jordan shrugged. ‘For the same reason Gideon and I are completely unalike in our tastes—twin or not, no one really wants to be a clone of another person.’
‘But you and Gideon aren’t identical.’
‘In colouring, no,’ Jordan said. ‘But we’re the same height, and we have a similar facial structure.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe we should introduce your twin sister to my twin brother and see what happens? As they’re both lawyers they already have something in common.’
Stephanie knew exactly what would happen if the fiercely independent and outspoken Joey ever met either of Jordan’s arrogant older brothers: sparks would most definitely fly!
‘Perhaps not,’ Jordan acknowledged dryly, seeming to read her mind. ‘Much as they sometimes annoy the hell out of me, I’m not sure I would want to wish that onto either of my brothers.’
Stephanie bristled. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that having one stubborn McKinley sister around is more than enough for any man.’ He laughed huskily.
The wine had obviously relaxed Jordan. So much so that he was back to tormenting her. Making her less wary of his hair-trigger temper and more aware of the dizzying attraction of him that could be so utterly mesmerising.
Stephanie moistened dry lips as she stood up restlessly. ‘I think I’ll just go and check on dinner—’
Jordan reached out to grasp hold of her arm as she passed his chair, his fingers like steel bands about her wrist. ‘There’s nothing in the oven that will spoil, is there?’
She sincerely hoped that the sudden thundering of her heart at Jordan’s touch wasn’t echoed by the pulse beating beneath his fingers! ‘Not really.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I just thought—’
‘You think far too much, Steph. Why don’t you just allow yourself to feel for a change?’ he encouraged softly.
Stephanie was feeling too much already—that was the problem!
She could feel the strength of Jordan’s fingers curled about her flesh, the firm caress of his thumb against that rapidly beating pulse in her inner wrist, the heat of those gold-coloured eyes on her moist and parted lips, then moving lower to her rising and falling breasts. Holding her captive. Drawing her into the deep well of sensuality she could feel rising between them …
‘I believe I told you not to call me Steph,’ she murmured breathily.
‘Your lips have told me several things that aren’t echoed by your body language,’ he murmured as he placed his wine glass down onto the table. ‘You obviously have feeding me well in hand, so perhaps now would be a good time for you to amuse me,’ he suggested softly as he tugged firmly on her wrist.
Stephanie tried to resist that tug. And failed. Instead she overbalanced and toppled over the arm of the chair to end up sitting on Jordan’s thighs as he took her into his waiting arms. ‘Jordan, this is definitely not a good idea—’
‘I’m all out of good ideas, Stephanie,’ Jordan said gruffly. ‘Let’s go with a bad one, instead, hmm?’ he encouraged, as his head began to lower towards hers. ‘They’re usually much more fun, anyway.’
Jordan was going to kiss her. More than kiss her, Stephanie knew as she became instantly mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze.
‘Maybe we’ll have more success with this sitting down,’ he murmured throatily, his breath a warm caress against her parted lips.
Stephanie attempted one last appeal for sanity. ‘Jordan, we really can’t do this.’
‘Oh, but we really can,’ he muttered, and his lips finally claimed hers.
It was a slow and leisurely kiss as Jordan sipped and nibbled at Stephanie’s lips, tasting her, tantalising her, encouraging her to reciprocate, groaning low in his throat when her arm finally moved up about his shoulders and she pulled him down to her so that she could kiss him back.
Jordan felt a surge down the length of his spine as her fingers became entangled in the darkness of his hair when the kiss deepened, l
ips tasting, teeth gently biting, tongues dueling. Stephanie was obviously feeling a desire that was echoed in the pulsing hardness of Jordan’s thighs.
He shifted slightly in the chair, so that Stephanie lay back against the arm of the chair as his mouth left hers to trail sensuously down the long column of her throat, his tongue rasping across that silky flesh. She tasted of warmth and sunshine, the lightness of her perfume shadowed by the essence of sweet arousal. An arousal that reflected the hot demand rising inside Jordan to once again hear those panting little cries and breathy groans as he pleasured her.
His hand moved caressingly beneath the soft wool of her sweater as he continued to taste that creamy throat. Stephanie’s skin was as smooth as silk and just as delicious. He touched. Cupped her breast. Gently squeezed the rosy-pink nipple and then stroked that sensitive tip. Pushed the softness of her jumper up and feasted his gaze on those small and perfect breasts before lowering his head and claiming one of those roused tips in the heat of his mouth.
‘Jordan!’ Stephanie’s back arched into his caress even as she gasped at the intimacy.
His mouth reluctantly released her, his eyes hot and dark as he looked down at that plump and moist nipple. ‘You’re too delicious for me to stop, love,’ he murmured admiringly, and he stroked his thumb lightly over that plumpness before turning his attention to its twin, his tongue circling rhythmically across that rosy nub before drawing it into his mouth deeply, hungrily.
Stephanie was totally lost to sensation, her hand cradling the back of Jordan’s head as his tongue rasped skilfully across her swollen nipple. The rush of pleasure between her thighs moistened her, even as she felt herself ache for him to touch her there too.
Jordan’s eyes glowed deeply gold as he raised his head and held her gaze with his. He unbuttoned the fastening on her jeans before slowing pulling down the zip to reveal the black lace panties she wore beneath.
Stephanie couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, moaning softly as Jordan lowered his head. She felt the softness of his tongue circling her navel, increasing the heat between her thighs as he plunged into that sensitive indentation even as his hands moved up her ribcage to cup and squeeze her breasts, to capture the swollen nipples once again in a rolling caress.
Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous Page 7