Thorne's Way

by Joan Hohl

  “I don’t quite understand why you hesitate,” he observed quietly. “Not only in accepting the use of my first name, but in the acquisition of my surname, as well.” He paused long enough to light a cigarette, and to let his words sink in. “You’ve told me what you want out of life. I’m prepared to fulfill those wants. Much more than adequately, as regards a home and financial security.”

  “Financial security!” Valerie gasped. “I’ve placed no price tag on myself. I’m not up for grabs, or for sale.”

  “There’s a saying that everyone has a price,” Jonas retorted.

  “It became a saying because it’s probably true,” Valerie retaliated. “But the price does not necessarily have to be paid in money.”

  “You don’t like money?” Jonas ridiculed. “You’d be the first woman I’ve ever encountered who didn’t.”

  “Yes, I like money,” Valerie snapped, goaded to anger by his tone. “And I like all the lovely things I can purchase with it. I’d have no objections to having scads and scads of money. But not if I have to sell myself to get it.”

  “I’m not suggesting you do that, Valerie,” Jonas said tightly.

  “Aren’t you?” she mocked. “It certainly sounded like you were. And offering yourself as the highest bidder.”

  “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t be having this discussion,” he assured her coolly. “I would be the highest bidder—you can be sure of that.”

  “Your conceit is exceeded only by your arrogance,” Valerie snapped, jumping to her feet. She was shaking with anger, humiliation and a jumble of other emotions she couldn’t begin to identify.

  “Sit down, Val,” Jonas sighed. Then, his lips twitching suspiciously, he teased, “Feisty when you’re riled, aren’t you?”

  Feeling suddenly foolish, Valerie sat down again.

  “Aren’t you?” she returned defensively.

  “Yes,” he admitted, laughing easily again. “I really think you should accept my offer, Valerie, for your own good.”

  “My own good?” Valerie frowned. “I don’t understand. Why—for my own good?”

  “I’ve drawn more emotion, more animation from you in the last few hours, than you’ve been reputed to have shown in the last year.” Jonas’s eyes were steady on hers. Ignoring her soft gasp, he drove the nail home. “At least, with me, you’d know you’re alive.”

  “Jonas, please,” Valerie whispered pleadingly.

  A wry smile curled his mouth. “Amazing.” He shook his head slowly. “I had to hurt you to get you to say my name.” The wry smile settled in place. “It’s true, you know. We may lock horns, often. You may get hurt, but even feeling pain is part of being alive. Say yes, Val. Not only to me, but to being alive.”

  Everything he’d said was true. She did feel more alive than she had in over a year. She no longer clung to a subconscious death wish. She wanted to live again! Without giving herself time to think, to consider the enormity of the step she’d be taking, Valerie gave in.

  “All right, Jonas. I accept your proposal.”

  The stillness that seemed to grip him puzzled her. Had he been playing some sort of game? she wondered, confused. Or testing her in some way? Had she answered incorrectly? Made a dreadful error?

  He studied her face for a moment longer, then came around the desk to take her hand into his.

  “You agree to the child as well?” he asked softly.

  “Yes.” Her answer was equally soft, if strained. “That was part of the proposal, wasn’t it? You give me what I want in return for what you want.”

  “Yes,” his eyes bored into hers. “I just wanted that point understood.” Swinging away from her, he decreed, “I’m sending you home.”

  “But—” Realizing protest would be useless, Valerie closed her mouth. He was already holding the telephone receiver to his ear and punching out the numbers of a familiar extension.

  “I want Lyle to have my car at the exit in five minutes for Miss Jordan.” As he replaced the receiver he turned to study her again. Apparently her pale cheeks and her trembling hands told him how nervous she felt, for he asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “At least I will be when I get used to the idea—I think.”

  Once again she was treated to the radiance of his smile. “Go on,” he urged. “Get out of here. I have several long distance calls to make and something I want to discuss with Charlie. Do you think you’ll be up to seeing me this evening?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Of course,” he mocked, glancing pointedly at her trembling hands. “Go on, beat it. I’ll stop by the apartment tonight. That is, if you get out of here and let me get some work done. We’ll talk then.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “Go,” he ordered, striding to the door to open it for her. “Lyle will be waiting.”

  Valerie went; not quite at a run. At the soft click of the door closing behind her she came to an indecisive stop. She breathed deeply a few times to calm her racing pulses, then walked to her desk. She was removing a sheet of paper from her typewriter when the phone rang. Lifting the receiver on the second ring, she gave her automatic response.

  “Mr. Thorne’s office.”

  “What time do you think you’ll be ready to go to lunch today, Val?” Janet sounded alert and efficient—the complete opposite of how Valerie felt.

  “I’m not going to lunch today. I’m being sent home.”

  “Being sent home!” Janet exclaimed. “Why, are you sick?”

  Valerie sighed. She’d have to tell Janet, of course, but not here, not over the phone. “No, Janet, I’m fine. But I can’t explain now, Lyle’s waiting for me.”

  “Lyle?” Janet repeated sharply. “Val, honey, why is Lyle—”

  “Janet, I can’t talk now,” Valerie interrupted anxiously. “I’ll explain when you get home to—” Valerie saved her breath; Janet had hung up.

  After replacing the receiver, Valerie filed the work she’d been transcribing, covered her typewriter, and, draping her new spring raincoat over her shoulders, left the office. The elevator doors hissed apart to reveal a frowning Janet.

  “You must be sick,” she decided aloud as Valerie stepped into the elevator.

  “No,” Valerie denied. “I’m not sick, Janet. I—he—” she stuttered, not quite sure how to begin.

  “Valerie, you didn’t quit?” Janet cried. When Valerie shook her head, she gasped, “Jonas didn’t fire you?”

  “No, he asked me to marry him.”

  “He— What?!”

  “He—” Valerie broke off as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. “We can’t talk here, Janet,” she concluded, stepping out.

  After a stunned hesitation, Janet hurriedly followed her.

  “Lyle’s waiting, Miss Jor—” Steve began as Valerie walked toward the exit. Janet cut him off with a tersely ordered, “Call Jonas, Steve. Tell him I’m going home with Miss Jordan.”

  “Will do, Janet.” Steve’s reply was punctuated by the door’s closing behind them.

  Lyle was waiting beside the open door of the silver-gray limo. “Morning, Miss Jordan—Janet.”

  “Good morning, Lyle,” Valerie and Janet answered in unison, Janet adding, “We’re going to my apartment, Lyle.”

  With a short nod of his head, and a smiling, “Okay, Janet,” Lyle swung the door closed.

  As soon as she was seated, Janet touched the button that operated the glass partition and the minute the window was in place between the front and back seats, she turned and demanded, “Now what’s going on?” Not even pausing to give Valerie time to respond, she rapped out, “Were you serious about Jonas asking you to marry him?”

  “Yes, I—” Valerie was interrupted by an unfamiliar sound that was not quite a ring, yet not quite a buzz either. In confusion, she glanced around trying to locate the sound.

  “I should have expected it,” Janet sighed, sliding back the top of the center armrest to reveal a phone nestled inside. C
asting Valerie a knowing smile, she lifted the receiver and said, “Yes, Jonas?”

  Valerie’s eyebrows went up in questioning surprise as Janet’s eyes studied her face.

  “Yes, she’s all right,” she said quietly. “A little pale, but all right. I haven’t been able to make much sense out of what she’s told me, Jonas.” Janet’s tone invited clarification. She was quiet a moment, then she answered, “Yes.” Again she listened, longer this time. “She did!” Her eyes flew to Valerie. “Well, you have my overwhelmed congratulations.” Her pause was very short this time. “Well, of course I mean it, Jonas. I’ve been very worried about her.” Pause. “Yes, I will, all right, Jonas.”

  “What was that all about?” Valerie asked suspiciously. “And why have you been `very worried’ about me?”

  “That was Jonas.” Janet grinned.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Valerie drawled. “And?”

  “And,” Janet sobered, “you must have looked a little green around the gills to Steve. Jonas was concerned—” she shrugged— “hence the call.” Her voice elaborately casual, she went on. “Jonas said you’ve agreed to marry him.”

  “Yes,” Valerie concurred. “I have.”

  “Uh-huh—” Janet wasn’t quite successful in masking her injured feelings. “We share the same apartment,” she muttered, “and I don’t even know you’ve got a thing going with the boss.” Shooting Valerie a hurt look, she complained, “You said you didn’t even like him.”

  “I don’t,” Valerie protested. “I didn’t. Oh, hell, Janet, we don’t have, haven’t had, a `thing’ going. It’s—it’s—” Valerie’s voice faded. How could she explain? She wasn’t sure she fully understood the situation herself.

  “Well, I certainly am glad you cleared that up,” Janet said dryly. “But don’t think for a minute that bunch of gibberish got you off the hook. Prepare yourself for the third degree after we get home.”

  An hour later Valerie decided Janet would have made a fantastic interrogation officer. Janet probed gently, but persistently, until Valerie gave in and told her about Jonas’s unorthodox proposal.

  “How like Jonas.” Janet smiled wryly. “He does love a challenge. Women of all shapes, sizes and colors willing to do anything, and I do mean anything, to get their well-manicured hands on him—and his money—and he decides to produce an heir through a gal who is emotionally asleep.”

  “Janet!”

  “You’re going to tell me you’re not?” Janet’s eyebrows shot up. “Honey, do you have the vaguest idea what you are letting yourself in for? Jonas could devour you.”

  Valerie shook her head. “Janet, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” Janet sighed. “Val, the man you’re going to marry is not your everyday ordinary guy next door.”

  “I know that,” Valerie cried indignantly. “The guy next door doesn’t have loads of money.”

  “It’s not the money,” Janet retorted. “It’s the man. In the first place, he’s a bastard.”

  “Janet!” Valerie protested.

  “I mean,” Janet explained soothingly, “his mother and father were not married. He was also an orphan from day one and I’ve always had the feeling that he never had much of a childhood. His background made him tough and it made him hard. But that isn’t what makes him different.” Janet lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “He isn’t just ambitious. It’s more than that. Jonas has a light in his head, a neon sign that spells out electronics. It consumes him. Everything and everyone else comes second.”

  Valerie shivered. She had always thought of him as machinelike, but Janet’s confirmation of her opinion was unsettling. “You make him sound inhuman,” she murmured, uncomfortably aware that she had also considered him so.

  “Oh, no,” Janet denied. “At least I don’t mean to. Jonas is very human. When he’s hungry, he eats. When he’s tired, he sleeps. And when he feels desire, he takes a woman to his bed. He adores his daughter. All very natural, normal things—but he is different. That difference draws the females like a magnet. That’s where my concern for you comes in.” Janet shrugged again. “I’ve seen your reaction to the effect he has on women. Having a wife will not lessen that effect. Can you handle it?”

  “Why not?” Valerie asked. “It’s not as if I had any feelings for him.”

  Not fooled for a minute by Valerie’s brave words, Janet sighed. “Val, no woman with any pride is going to sit by calmly while other women fall all over her husband, whether or not she has any feelings for him. It would more than annoy anyone, and you more than most. I’ve been a witness to it countless times. Quite often the play is none too subtle.”

  Janet thought of the dinner party she’d attended with Jonas at Edouard Barres’s elegant home outside of Paris. The young actress had been embarrassingly obvious in her pursuit of Jonas. Janet sighed again at the memory of the actress running to the plane—and Jonas. She grimaced. “A few years ago, even his ex-wife got into the act.”

  Valerie felt an odd thrill of apprehension jump in her stomach. Something about Janet’s tone unnerved her. Why? Why should the mention of Jonas’s first wife make her feel shaky and even more uncertain?

  “For a while there it looked like Jonas had finally been corralled.” Janet’s musing voice cut across Valerie’s thoughts. “What a production.” She grinned. “A novice to the game could have gained an education by taking notes.”

  “What happened?” Valerie asked unwillingly.

  “Who knows?” Janet laughed. “He’s an elusive devil. All I know is that one day she was here, living in his house, and the next day she was gone.”

  “Living in his house!” Valerie exclaimed softly.

  “Yes.” Janet nodded. “And she gave everyone the impression she was there to stay. I don’t know.” Janet’s shoulders went up, then down. “She was fresh from a divorce, her third. Maybe she decided it would be more interesting to play the field for a while.”

  “She’s been married three times?” Valerie’s eyes widened with astonishment.

  “Yep.” Janet nodded. “Each one richer than the last. Of course—” she grinned “—that wouldn’t have taken much for number two. Jonas didn’t have a dime back then. But, as I understand it, her second had lots and lots of dimes, all of which he was eager to spend on his beautiful new bride.”

  Valerie’s spirit nose-dived. “She was beautiful?”

  “She is beautiful,” Janet corrected. “Blond, blue-eyed, and golden-skinned.”

  Suddenly very tired, Valerie didn’t want to hear any more. But how to shut Janet up? Food! Of course, how much talking could Janet do if she was busy eating? Rising quickly, Valerie started toward the kitchen.

  “I don’t know about you,” she tossed over her shoulder, “but I’m ready for lunch.”

  Janet followed, chiding, “In other words, you want me to button up, right?”

  “I’d appreciate it,” Valerie drawled.

  “I’ll go you one better,” Janet laughed. “I’ll clear out tonight so you and Jonas can have your discussion in private.”

  “But where will you go?”

  Janet’s smile was teasing. “Dining, dancing, romancing. All the same old dull stuff.” Laughing at Valerie’s surprised expression, she added, “Actually, I have a date. So don’t worry about me, okay?”

  Since Janet didn’t volunteer a name, Valerie bit back the questions on her lips. That didn’t stop them from tumbling through her mind. Was there a man in Janet’s life? Who was he? And why hadn’t Janet mentioned him before?

  “What time do you expect Jonas?”

  Janet’s question wiped all idle speculation out of her mind. Jonas! Biting her lip, Valerie tried to shrug unconcernedly. “He didn’t give a time, just said he’d stop by tonight.”

  Janet’s laughter filled the kitchen. “I swear, there is no one in the world like that man.”

  That, Valerie thought uneasily, is what I’m afraid of.

  A s
ecret smile curving her mouth, Janet left the apartment shortly after seven, dressed to demoralize most men and all women. Feeling somewhat dowdy in comparison, Valerie changed her clothes three times, finally settling on a dress Janet had insisted she buy in Paris. The soft, almost weightless material clung to her full breasts and caressed her hips and thighs at her slightest movement. Although its dusky pink color lent a glow to her pale cheeks, Valerie, not at all satisfied with her appearance, frowned at her reflection in the dresser mirror. Her eyes, purpled by anxiety, stared back at her, and she sighed, then jumped at the sound of the doorbell. Trembling hands smoothing the material over her hips, she walked with forced steadiness to the door.

  Jonas, looking cool and relaxed, and supremely sure of himself, stood at ease in the hall, a bottle of champagne in his hand. His eyes ran over her, coming to rest on her face. “May I come in?” he drawled when she made no move to open the door further.

  “Oh! Yes…of course,” Valerie blurted out, stepping back hastily.

  The moment he was inside, he held the bottle aloft, chiding, “Do you think you could find some glasses? This is chilled and ready to drink.”

  Biting back a retort, Valerie turned and walked into the kitchen. Breathing deeply in an effort to calm her jangled nerves, she retrieved two fragile-looking wine glasses from the cabinet above the sink, then nearly dropped them when she turned to find Jonas standing behind her.

  “Where’s Janet?” he asked dryly, peeling the gold foil off the top of the bottle.

  “She had a date,” Valerie replied shortly. “Why, did you want to see her?”

  “Hardly,” Jonas drawled, easing the cork from the bottle. “Shall we adjourn to the living room? Or would you prefer to drink to our future here in the kitchen?”

  Sarcastic brute! Spinning on her heel, Valerie marched into the living room. Depositing the glasses on the coffee table, she sat down on the sofa and watched as Jonas poured the wine before seating himself beside her.

  “To the gratification of all wants.” Jonas lifted his glass and touched it lightly to hers before raising it to his lips.