by Joan Hohl
Oh, God!
All thought was swept away in the tide of sensual pleasure that flowed through her being. Jonas’s tongue, flicking like the tip of a whip, teased first one then the other of her nipples into hard, aching arousal before his lips continued on their downward trek.
Following the dictates of her clamoring senses, Valerie let her head fall back, and she moaned softly when Jonas’s hands arched her body to his mouth. Driven by a need she was beyond questioning, she moved her hands over his shoulders to the back of his head, the tips of her fingers pressing him closer.
When the hard tip of his tongue stabbed into the small hollow of her navel a shudder of surrender went rippling through her body. As if her shudder was the sign he was waiting for, Jonas tightened his hands, and, using her body as leverage, rose lithely to his feet. Sliding one hand to the center of her back and the other to the base of her spine, he drew her body to the hardness of his own.
Valerie was now aware that Jonas had deliberately by-passed her mouth in anticipation of this moment, but she no longer cared. As he lowered his head her arms curled around his neck, and with lips parted she lifted her head to meet him halfway.
The shock of his mouth swept her over the edge of reason and into the hot, swirling depths of desire. Never would she have believed those thin, hard lips capable of creating such total devastation. Hungrily they devoured her lips while his tongue explored the recesses of her mouth.
Plastered against him, she moved when he did, sinking onto the mattress without protest. With hot, openmouthed, plunging kisses and gently caressing, teasing hands, Jonas brought Valerie to quivering readiness. When his searching fingers found the moist core of her desire, she gasped and cried aloud with pleasure as she parted her thighs in invitation.
Curving his hands around her hips, Jonas moved into position between her soft thighs. Lifting her hips slightly, he entered her carefully, then paused as if savoring the moment of possession. His movements slow, exquisitely sensuous, he drew her with him into the heady realm of passionate expression. Trembling, moaning softly, she clasped his hard body to her until, consumed in the flame of desire, they moved as one. The flame flared higher and higher until Valerie, feeling as though the tension would never end—and not even sure she wanted it to— shuddered with release and cried:
“Oh, God, Jonas!”
“Yes.” Jonas drew the word out in a hard tone, deep with satisfaction. “Jonas.”
Adrift in an ocean of contentment, she was hardly aware he’d spoken. For an hour, or mere minutes, buoyant with fulfillment, she floated carefree in the netherworld midway between sleep and wakefulness.
As her feeling of euphoria faded, reality returned and she was once again conscious of the not unpleasant weight of Jonas’s relaxed body. Her left shoulder, where his head rested, and her side from the waist down, were numb—oddly, that too was not unpleasant.
How was it, she mused sleepily, that this man who held the exclusive power to annoy, frustrate, frighten, dismay and enrage her, all within the short span of a few hours, also held the power to unleash—from deep within her—a powerful, passionate nature she had been ignorant of possessing?
In mute acceptance she faced the realization that Etienne had lacked that power. He had never caused in her a bubbling cauldron of seething emotions. She had believed she loved him passionately. But now, after experiencing Jonas Thorne’s passion, she knew better. Comparing the two was like trying to make a comparison between a gentle rain and a deluge. The only similarity was the fact that they were both wet—as Jonas and Etienne were both men—end of comparison.
The introspection created confusion, and was much too much like work. Lazily replete, Valerie simply was not up to the task.
Later, she promised herself drowsily. I’ll work it all out later. For now, the temptation to smooth the disheveled strands of Jonas’s hair, gleaming silver in the eerie half-light, was too great to resist.
Sliding her fingers through his hair proved very exciting. The silky strands caressed her palm sensuously, triggering a curiosity about how the rest of him might feel. She slid her hand very slowly down the side of his face, testing the feel of his sharply defined cheekbones, the shallow hollow beneath and the hard line that comprised his jaws.
Very nice—but inconclusive. Further investigation was definitely called for. Tinglingly alive to every nuance of sensation, her hand slipped over the edge of his beard-roughened jawbone and down the corded column of his neck.
The skin covering his shoulder was moist and surprisingly satiny, beckoning her hand to further study of the subject matter. Engrossed in her exploration, Valerie was unaware of the subtle change in Jonas’s breathing, or the very stillness of his supine frame.
His back was an education in muscular development, his hips and flanks a doctoral degree in bone and sinew. Her fingers traced the line of his leg to the knee, hesitated, then trekked up the inside of his thigh; there was still the texture of his stomach and chest to measure.
Her hand moved around to his hip and paused again. Dare she continue? She wondered shyly.
“Oh, God, Valerie,” Jonas growled softly into her ear. “Don’t stop now.”
Made brave by his hoarse plea, Valerie slid her palm over his protruding hipbone and across his taut, flat abdomen, enjoying the feel of his muscles contracting under her hand. Her hand moved up, over his navel and onto the slightly concave area between his ribs, and at that moment his ribs expanded as he drew a deep, ragged breath.
Her own breathing becoming quick and uneven, Valerie allowed her hand to caress the breadth of his chest. The hair her fingers slid through was more coarse than that on his head and it tickled her palm. Valerie decided she liked the sensation.
“Oh, sweet heaven.” Jonas’s groan was echoed by a gasp from Valerie as his tongue slid down her neck and his hand began stroking the inside of her thigh. As his lips slowly kissed a path to her breasts, Jonas shifted his weight, easing his body between her thighs.
“Mmm.” His warm breath caressed her lips. Valerie’s arm coiled around his neck as his mouth crushed hers. The downward search of his mouth began again, and Valerie lost her hold on reality as his body slid lower on hers. Moaning aloud, she arched her back when his teeth nipped playfully at her hard nipples, but he ignored her silent invitation. Not one spot on her torso was left unkissed.
Whimpering, mindless with desire, her fingers raking through his hair while her body writhed and arched against his lips, Valerie felt on the point of bursting into flames when he finally edged himself up the length of her body. He kissed her mouth, hard. Then, lifting his head, he ordered, “Look at me, Val.”
Valerie’s tightly closed lids, heavy with passion, opened slowly to reveal desire-clouded eyes.
“In our bed there will be no barriers, no shame, no holding back. I will know you and you will know me. Now bring me to you, Val.”
“Jonas, I—” Her breath was pushed back into her throat by his thrusting tongue.
His mouth still on hers, he groaned, “Guide me in, Val.”
She obeyed him simply because she wanted to obey him; she wanted to touch him, and, most of all, she wanted to feel the life of him inside, filling her again to completion.
“Who?” he demanded as that completion was attained.
“Jonas,” Valerie gasped.
“Yes,—Jonas, and don’t ever forget it.”
* * *
The insistent ringing of the phone roused Valerie. Jonas’s low curse as he left the bed brought full wakefulness. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she watched him snatch up the receiver.
“What is it?” Jonas lifted his hand to rake spread fingers through his ruffled hair and Valerie’s mouth went dry at the sight of his naked form. In the darkness his body had felt hard and sinewy against hers. In the midmorning light he looked magnificent.
“Okay, I’ll take the call.” Jonas’s hard tone drew her eyes to his equally hard, set features. A chill slid down her spine as her gaz
e came to a halt on his lips. A shiver followed the chill when his lips twisted into an unpleasant smile.
“This better be good, Charlie.” Jonas’s tone held a definite threat and Valerie was feeling sorry for Charlie McAndrew when she saw Jonas’s eyes sharpen an instant before his lids narrowed. Apparently Charlie’s reason for disturbing his employer was very good.
“For God’s sake!” Jonas exploded. “Why did you even agree to see him?” He paused, listening, then growled, “I don’t give a damn about Trans Electric, they dug themselves into the hole with inefficient management, and they can climb out by themselves.” Again he paused to listen, longer this time. “I don’t give a damn about them either,” he snarled.
Valerie could hear the excited tones of Charlie’s voice all the way over on her side of the bed. Something had definitely gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours. Jonas’s expression had become positively grim when he turned to run his eyes over her. For a fleeting instant conflicting emotions were evident in his gaze, then his expression locked and he looked away.
“All right, Charlie,” he snapped. “Call Caradin in Washington and tell him to get up to Philadelphia. I’ll be there in—what the hell time is it, anyway?” He drew a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He practically threw the receiver onto its base. Before it even stopped rattling he snatched it up again.
“Desk, please.” There was a pause. “This is Jonas Thorne. I’m checking out. Will you get my bill ready and send the bellhop up in a half hour? Thank you.”
This time he replaced the receiver carefully before turning to look at her fully for the first time.
“I’m sorry, Val, but I have to go.”
“All right.” Valerie heard the disappointment in her tone and cursed herself for it. But—she had so wanted to see San Francisco.
Dropping onto the bed beside her, he caught her face in his hands. “I’ll bring you back, I promise.” His kiss began as a gentle seal on his promise and quickly changed to a rough, hungry demand. By the time he lifted his mouth from hers her pulses were pounding and she was gasping for breath. His left hand caressed the right side of her body restlessly before honing in on the dark triangle between her legs.
“Jonas!” Valerie protested, even as she arched her body to his hand. “Charlie—Caradin, they’ll be waiting for you! And the bellhop will be here….”
“First things first,” Jonas whispered. “I’m the boss, remember? Let them wait.”
* * *
Less than two hours later Valerie was once again strapped into the velour-covered chair, and the Gulfstream was airborne—heading east.
“Come over here.”
Jonas’s soft command drew her eyes from the small pane of glass to his reclining form.
“What?”
Wedging his body tightly against the arm rest, he patted the small area of exposed seat. “Come here.”
His eyes looked heavy-lidded and smoky and Valerie felt her heart thump; oh, yes, they had all been right—he was very, very sexy.
“Come.”
She went. After she was settled beside him—very tightly beside him—she found the nerve to risk a question.
“What’s going on, Jonas?”
Jonas made no pretense of misunderstanding. “You knew an office was being prepared for someone, didn’t you?” Valerie nodded. “That office is for a representative from Edouard Barres. He’s coming to work with me on a project Edouard and I are beginning.”
This was the first Valerie had heard about any new project, and as Jonas’s former personal secretary she felt slightly miffed at being excluded.
“Is this project a secret?” she asked suspiciously. Jonas slanted her a wry glance.
“Not anymore,” he replied disgustedly. “The thing started when I was in Paris,” he explained. “Edouard was speculating on the feasibility of a smaller, less expensive communications system for space exploration. The idea intrigued me, as I’m sure Edouard had intended it would. I began playing around with it—and came up with a practical solution.”
“But—” Valerie frowned. “What does that have to do with Charlie’s call?”
“I’m getting to that.” Jonas grimaced. “You are also aware, I assume, that Trans Electric has been having some serious financial trouble?”
“Yes.” Valerie nodded again. “Everyone in the industry is aware of it.”
“Yes,” Jonas repeated. “But so far the general public is not, and Trans Electric is scrambling to find a way to improve the situation before it becomes common knowledge.” He smiled, the same unpleasant smile that had twisted his lips earlier. “Somehow—I don’t know how, but I’ll find out—” he inserted grimly, “The president of Trans got wind of the project. Trans wants a piece of my action and they sent their chief negotiator, a fool by the name of Parsons, to tell us so.”
“While you were out of the office,” Valerie murmured.
“Hell, yes!” Jonas snorted. “They knew damned well I’d throw him out.”
“But,” Valerie shook her head, “I don’t understand. It’s your project. Why would they even dream you’d consider letting them in?”
“Why? Because the president of Trans has friends in high places, of course,” Jonas enlightened her. “And not an hour after Charlie showed Parsons to the door, he had a call from Washington. The lyrics had changed, but the tune was the same. It went something like this: Trans could be of great assistance to us while we put this show together. Besides we couldn’t possibly let a reputable firm like Trans go under—bad for the economy, you know. And, really, all they’re asking for is a tiny slice of what could turn out to be an enormous pie. And—here is the zinger,” Jonas sneered. “It has been brought to someone’s attention that there are several government regulations J.T. Electronics is guilty of having ignored. If pressure were to be applied in certain quarters, a number of our projects could be tied up for an extended period, thereby dealing us a very costly, crippling blow.”
Noting her somewhat awed expression, Jonas added, “They really talk like that. Names or specifics are never mentioned, but you know the screws are being applied just the same.”
“And that’s why you’re bringing George Caradin up from Washington,” Valerie surmised.
“That’s what I pay him for,” Jonas concurred.
Valerie was quiet a long time, appalled at the very idea of someone’s trying to undercut Jonas in that way.
“Jonas,” she said softly. “If nothing you or Charlie, or George, or anyone else can do works, you’ll have to go along with Trans, won’t you?”
“No.” Jonas’s tone held hard finality. “It’s my pie, and I won’t share even a thin slice of it with them. No one picks my brain, Valerie.”
“But how would you stop them?”
Jonas smiled, crookedly. “I’ve only been working on this a few weeks. Even though I know it’s feasible, what I’ve committed to paper wouldn’t mean a thing to anyone else. The majority of the details are still in my head.” His smile became strangely benign. “If we can’t beat them at their game—I’ll set a match to the plans.”
“You wouldn’t!” Valerie leaned back to stare at him in astonishment. His arm hauled her close to him again and he laughed.
“Watch me.”
Chapter 10
Placing her hairbrush on top of the dresser, Valerie turned away from the mirror, then turned back again.
Was it too much? The dress—the makeup? Valerie had lost count of the times she’d run sharply critical eyes over the young woman the mirror reflected back to her. The dress, purchased especially for this day, was very simple, and very chic, the blending of colors from palest pink to deep amethyst complimentary to her white skin and violet eyes. The makeup had been painstakingly, if lightly, applied with all the skill she’d picked up in Paris. Her hair held the sheen of sun striking a raven’s wing. Yet she was dissatisfied.
It was so very, very important that she look, if not perfect, then as close
to it as possible.
Smoothing her hands nervously over the silky material covering her hips, Valerie let her eyes fasten on the flashing reflection of the diamond on her left hand. He’d be back soon. They would all be here soon. Jonas and Marge, and—Valerie spun away from the mirror—God, what would she be like, this daughter Jonas was bringing home? Would Mary Beth accept her?
Standing perfectly still, hands clenched at her sides, Valerie slowly closed her eyes. She felt actually sick with nerves, and it was all his fault. Why, why, why had Jonas chosen to do it this way?
He had to have realized that his remarriage would be a shock to his daughter. Yet he hadn’t told her a thing about it!
Valerie flinched, experiencing again the shock she’d received the night before. Naturally apprehensive, she’d been seeking reassurance when she’d asked him what Mary Beth’s reaction had been to their marriage. Now, the memory of his reply still had the power to horrify her.
“I haven’t told her.”
Beginning to shake, Valerie dug her beautifully manicured nails into her palms. Somewhat hysterically, she pictured the scene at the airport. Marge would, of course, be teary-eyed. Probably Mary Beth would weep a little also. Then she heard Jonas’ emotionless, confident voice saying, “Welcome back, Mary Beth. When we get home I’ll introduce you to your new stepmother.”
Valerie swallowed convulsively against the nausea that suddenly overcame her. Not again, she moaned silently. Clutching her stomach, Valerie ran into the bathroom. There was nothing, of course. Nothing but the dry, wracking heaves. Her stomach had relieved itself of its contents five minutes after she’d opened her eyes that morning. It was morning sickness, Valerie was certain. She didn’t know quite how she knew, but know she did. She was pregnant. And so, added to the surprise of having a stepmother would be the news that Mary Beth was also to have a sibling.
Oh, why didn’t they come so they could get it over with? The waiting was the hardest part. Moving jerkily, Valerie walked to the sliding door, blinking against the glaring brightness of the early afternoon sun. She didn’t see the smooth expanse of green lawn or the delicate, new leaves on the surrounding trees, for her attention was directed inward, reviewing the past four weeks of her marriage to Jonas Thorne.
