Thorne's Way

by Joan Hohl

  “Jonas, stop,” Valerie moaned, not even believing the command herself. Wildfire raced through her veins. Her arms tightened convulsively when his tongue caressed the spots his teeth had so recently bitten.

  “Wh—why are you doing this—now?” Valerie gasped, her breath coming unevenly.

  “I have given you time repeatedly, and still you ask for more,” Jonas muttered. “This additional month has a price tag, a high one. If you want to go badly enough you’ll pay it.”

  Her mind cloudy with the devastation his mouth was inflicting, Valerie didn’t understand a word he said, but, at the moment, she didn’t care either. Greedily, she opened her mouth to his tongue as her hands slid down his back to grasp his buttocks and pull him tightly against her.

  “You must want to go very badly,” Jonas murmured thickly, confusing her even more. But then all thought fled at the electrifying thrust he made with his hips.

  She had to have him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else had any importance. Valerie’s hands slipped between their fused bodies to fumble shakily with his belt buckle. He liked that. Keeping his mouth clamped onto hers, he took a half step back to allow her hands freedom of motion. Loosening his grip on her neck, he moved his hand slowly down the front of her body, wringing soft moans from her as he did so.

  “Can you wait to undress?” he growled into her mouth. Valerie answered him by outlining his lips with her tongue. “Neither can I,” he groaned, drawing her with him onto the floor. Always before he had come to her with a slowness that drew out the moment to exquisite torture. Now, he took her with a voracious hunger born of his overwhelming need. Somewhere in the depths of her consciousness Valerie knew she should protest his violence. Instead, she met it with an answering violence of her own.

  “Remember, Val,” Jonas warned softly as he lay spent beside her. “You have one month.”

  * * *

  Lying wakeful and restless in the spare room in her mother’s house in Sydney, one day before that month was up, Valerie could hear again Jonas’s whispered warning, could feel his lips brush her skin as he spoke. A shiver feathered her shoulders and she pulled the blankets closer around her. But it wasn’t the air from the cold night that had caused the chill, and she knew it. The memory of the near savage way Jonas had made love to her, drawing her to him again and again long into the early hours of the morning, had caused repeated shivers during the last four weeks.

  Edwin and her mother, looking radiant with happiness, had welcomed Valerie with open arms as she staggered from the plane after the seemingly endless flight. Three days after her daughter’s arrival in Australia, Celia had given birth to a squalling, healthy son.

  Even though Valerie had filled her days to the limit getting reacquainted with her mother, helping to care for her captivating new brother, and sightseeing, the hours and days and weeks seemed to drag by. She missed Jonas more than she would have believed possible.

  He had sent flowers in response to Valerie’s telegram about the arrival of the baby, but she had heard nothing more from him.

  Unable to sleep, Valerie fought a silent battle with herself. When she had driven away from Jonas’s house, it had been with the intention of never returning. Yet, as each day passed without a word from him, her resolve wavered. Impatiently, she told herself she was a fool to even consider going back. Jonas was arrogant, infuriating, domineering. He was also straightforward, honest, generous, and, at times, gentle. And, whether she wanted to or not, she loved him.

  Suddenly Valerie could see herself, years from now, drifting from man to man in the hope of finding one who could blot Jonas out of her memory. Shuddering at the vivid images her restless mind projected, she scrambled out of bed to stare out the window.

  By the time she slid tiredly back into bed over two hours later, Valerie’s mind was made up. She was going home. Jonas had told her, months ago, to face reality. For Valerie, Jonas was reality, and she was going to face him, be honest with him, and find out, once and for all, if there was a marriage between them.

  Chapter 13

  She’s not coming back.

  The words rang inside Jonas’s head like a death knell. As he had months previously, Jonas stood, taut and tense, staring out the window behind his desk. And, in just the same manner, his fingers dug into the tight muscles in his thighs.

  She is not going to come back, and I don’t know what to do about it. Should I go after her? He knew the answer to that. No. If she was coming back at all, she was coming back because she wanted to, not because he had forced her. But, sweet Lord, he ached to bring her home.

  Valerie was already two days over the one-month time limit he had given her, and every nerve in his body felt drawn to the breaking point.

  Absentmindedly he slid his right hand out of his pocket and lifted it to his midsection, where he unconsciously began to knead the area over his stomach. Jonas became aware of the action of his hand at the same moment he became aware of the burning sensation in his stomach.

  “Damn.”

  Muttering the word aloud, he spun about and yanked open the top drawer of his desk. Taking out a small bottle, he unscrewed the cap, shook out two tablets, and popped them into his mouth.

  All he needed at this point was an ulcer, he thought, chewing methodically. Grimacing, he turned back to his perusal of the parking lot. He really could not afford to waste time staring blankly out the window. He knew it, and yet he made no attempt to move.

  As the tablets began to have an effect and the burning sensation eased, Jonas let his hand drop to his side. There was no ulcer yet, but the doctor had warned him he was on the right track. Jonas’s lips twisted wryly as he remembered the doctor’s exact words.

  “Jonas, the nerves in your stomach are working overtime. If you don’t slow down they are going to work a hole in the lining of your guts.” Mike Slater, internist, had always thought he was something of a comedian. “The rest of your body’s not faring a whole lot better, either. Lord, you high-powered types are going to make me a very rich man some day.”

  Jonas had agreed to watch his diet and take the medication Mike prescribed. He refused to cut down on his working hours. That had been two weeks ago. No one, not even Mary Beth or Marge, knew that Jonas had had cause to see a doctor, and, as far as Jonas was concerned, no one need ever know.

  If Valerie had been home he might have told her. The thought stiffened his back. Never in all his thirty-nine years had he considered confiding in someone else that way.

  The pain was completely gone now, and still he made no move. Good going, Thorne, he charged himself scathingly. Every move you made was wrong, starting with that blundering excuse of a proposal, and ending with that stupid ultimatum. No, scratch that, ending with the hell you put her through the last night.

  A shudder of sexual excitement rippled through the entire length of his body and Jonas cursed softly. Lord, just thinking about that night brought him to aching arousal. The mere memory of her had the power to affect him more than the actuality of any other woman; Jonas had proof of that.

  Lips twisting in self-mockery, Jonas called forth the memory of Maria’s last day as his secretary. In his mind’s eye he could see the confident smile she’d displayed when she’d strolled into his office. Had he given her reason to think he was ready for some extramarital fun and games? Jonas shook his head sharply; he had not. What was it with women, he wondered, that they insisted in living in realms all of their own creation? Again his head moved sharply. Valerie’s fantasyland was populated by only one man, Etienne DeBron, the faceless enemy Jonas did not know how to fight.

  Feeling his fingers curling into tight fists, Jonas forced his thoughts back to that last encounter with Maria just three days earlier. He had dictated several letters, and when he was through, Maria had caught her heel in the carpet on the way out of the office. Jumping out of his chair, he’d hurried over to her. With his arm supporting her, he’d helped her to the long white couch.

  “Let’s get that sho
e off and have a look,” he’d said, dropping to one knee in front of her and reaching for her left foot.

  “Jonas, darling.”

  His name had whispered from her lips while her hand stole caressingly into his hair. Caught completely off guard, he’d glanced up in surprise as she bent to him. Not even to himself would he deny the stirring of response he’d felt at the touch of her hot, red mouth, her probing tongue. Yet, even as his body moved toward hers and his hands reached for her, an image of Val flashed through his mind. When his hands grasped her shoulders it was to push her away instead of pulling her close. It had been more than a month since he’d made love to Val and he had need of a woman, but, strangely, any woman would not do. He wanted just one woman, and that one was surely not Maria. He wanted Val, and only Val. What he would do if she never came back to him, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Maybe, in time…Jonas closed his eyes against the jolt of fear his own thoughts caused.

  Dammit, it was an impossible situation. Opening his eyes to narrow slits, he stared in disbelief at his trembling hands. Why, he berated himself, why hadn’t he taken Maria right then and there? You know why, you fool. Because that couch is reserved for one woman only. And you love that woman with every inch of your body, and every cell of your mind. Forcing his thoughts away from the vision of his black-haired, violet-eyed tormenter, Jonas recreated the scene that had followed his rejection of Maria.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Maria had demanded in a stunned tone. “It was always good for us, wasn’t it?”

  “The operative word is was Maria,” he’d replied quietly. “I’m a married man now.”

  “Really?” she’d sneered. “So where’s your bride? Down under playing footsie with some rugged Aussie?”

  Getting to his feet, Jonas had stepped back to run his eyes over her in cold appraisal. What had he ever seen in her? The answer was obvious. Maria was a good-looking woman, intelligent, clever, sometimes witty, in a biting sort of way, and a regular wildwoman in bed—which Jonas admitted without shame, had been her biggest attraction. What the hell, he was a man.

  He was also fully aware of the fact that she had destroyed what little they had had going for them when she’d walked out on him. She had wanted the position of secretary and lover. Her mistake had been in thinking she could call the tune simply because he danced with her. She had not been the first woman to make that mistake. Jonas had never needed her. He didn’t need her now.

  “Clean our your desk and get out of here,” he’d ordered her with deadly quiet.

  “But—I…” Maria had sputtered in disbelief, then her red lips twisted nastily. “Oh, I get it. You don’t need me or your little bride, do you? Not as long as you have Lynn living in your house. No wonder sweet Valerie ran for her life.” Before she walked out the door, Maria paused to fire a parting shot. “You’re a fool, Jonas. Don’t you know that every one of your friends has slept with Lynn? She’s not at all particular where she finds her loving.” Then she added pityingly, “What was the problem, Jonas? Did little miss innocent Valerie object to your ménage ;aga trois?”

  “Out.”

  Jonas had not raised his voice, but the cold disgust he felt for her was evident in his tone. That had been three days ago, and yet the memory of the scene still rankled. Still more unpleasant was the scene that had happened that same night after he finally got home around ten-thirty. Mary Beth was out, again. Marge had already retired, and Lynn was waiting for him—like a spider waiting for a fly, Jonas had thought at the time.

  “You look tired,” she’d begun innocently enough. “Why don’t you sit down while I get you a drink?” Rising with studied grace, she’d gone to the portable bar. “There is something we’d better discuss.”

  “Yeah?” Jonas had been tired, and certainly not in the mood for more problems. Dropping into a chair, he’d eyed the mother of his daughter disdainfully. Was she really sleeping with every one of his friends? he wondered disinterestedly. He hadn’t realized they were all that hard up.

  “It’s about our daughter,” Lynn said sharply, obviously aware that his thoughts had drifted.

  At once alert, Jonas had straightened in his chair. “What about her?” he asked warily.

  “You mean you really don’t know?” She’d arched her brows. “She’s sleeping with the hired help.” Lynn had smiled at the shock her statement caused. “Your wife’s friend to be exact.”

  “Jean-Paul?” he’d asked very, very softly.

  “Of course, Jean-Paul,” she’d purred. “While you’ve been sleeping all alone in your empty bed, your daughter has been sleeping with your wife’s lover.” Her voice had then dropped to a whispered taunt. “One wonders, who is Valerie sleeping with?”

  Furious, fighting the desire to slap her smirking face, Jonas had not answered. After several breathless moments, Lynn had offered, “You don’t have to sleep alone, Jonas.”

  “You?” he’d asked quietly.

  “Yes, of course. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy one another.”

  Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly. “You’re out of your twisted mind,” he’d laughed aloud. “I wouldn’t touch you if you begged me for it.” Getting up lazily, he’d smiled mockingly at her outraged expression.

  “Where are you going?” she’d demanded as he sauntered to the door.

  “Back to my office,” he’d tossed over his shoulder. “At least there I don’t have to worry about being disturbed by your lies.”

  Jonas blinked, refocusing his gaze out the window where the dusk-to-dawn lights were just beginning to dim as the pink light of morning touched the parking lot, empty of cars save for the lone silver Cadillac. He’d been right here in the office ever since, except to take his daughter to dinner the evening before.

  As usual, he had come directly to the point. “Your mother tells me you have—ah—become involved with Jean-Paul. Is it true?”

  “If you mean by involved, am I going to bed with him, then the answer is yes,” Mary Beth answered with refreshing honesty.

  “I see,” Jonas murmured, noncommittally.

  “I don’t think you do, Dad.” Mary Beth shook her head. “I love him and I’m going to marry him.”

  “Does he know?” he’d asked roughly, shocked by the mixed emotions her statement had stirred in him.

  “Oh, that’s cute, Dad!” Mary Beth’s voice revealed the hurt his tone had inflicted. “Jean-Paul asked me to marry him weeks ago.” She drew a shaky breath, then went on accusingly, “He wanted to speak to you about it at once, but, knowing the trouble you’re having with Trans Electric, I asked him to wait.” She held up a silencing hand when he would have responded. “Besides, I wanted to wait until Val came home…if she ever does.”

  “What do you mean, if she comes home?” he demanded harshly. “Did she leave you with the impression she was not coming back?”

  “No,” she denied at once. “But, well, it was pretty obvious to everyone that you weren’t getting along. You…you do have a way of making your displeasure with someone felt without opening your mouth.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jonas snapped.

  “Dad, I…I…”

  “Tell me,” Jonas ordered.

  “Well, you were giving her the cold shoulder,” she said hesitatingly. Then she rushed on. “Were you punishing her for losing the baby?”

  Mary Beth’s question had literally struck him speechless. Was that what Val had been thinking when she’d decided to go to her mother? Had she run from his condemnation? Jonas had not answered Mary Beth’s query. Instead he’d told her to ask Jean-Paul to come to his office in the morning.

  Now, at six o’clock on a deceptively cool-looking summer morning, Jonas shook his head at the blunder he’d made in his campaign to awaken Valerie to reality. Totally unaware that at that very minute Valerie was landing at Philadelphia International Airport, Jonas mentally reviewed the debacle he’d made of his marriage. What had Mary Beth said? “You were giving her
the cold shoulder.” He’d thought he was being tactful and sensitive.

  Sighing deeply, Jonas turned from the glare of the red sun and sat down wearily at his desk. He’d had very little sleep during the preceding two nights. He hadn’t been able to sleep.

  You’ve got to put her out of your mind, Thorne, and get to work. That is, if you can still find anything in the mess that last girl left. Loretta had not yet been able to find a replacement for Maria and a different girl had occupied the outer office every day, each more incompetent than the last.

  Valerie had been very competent. Jonas groaned aloud. Always it came back to Valerie. God, he missed her. Would she ever come back? Sliding down in his chair, he rested his head against the leather back. What should he have done differently? Everything, the answer came at once. But worst of all had been his attitude toward Etienne. Why had he taunted her about him? Because he had been afraid. And he still was.

  Yes, he finally admitted to himself, he was afraid of the hold Etienne’s memory had on her emotions. He could still hear her asking him why she lost everyone she came to love, his own name conspicuously absent from her list. He had known from the beginning, of course, that she did not love him. But he had honestly thought that he could make her aware of him as a husband in every sense of the word, not just in bed.

  And sexually, their relationship had been extremely satisfying. Again the memory of their last night together rose in his mind to torment him. God, he had used her without compunction, and he had loved every minute of it. A sudden thought sent a thrill of excitement through his mind. What if he had made her pregnant again? Would that bring her home? Hope burned fiercely for a few moments before he recalled the agony of waiting for word of her condition when she’d miscarried. Milt had warned him about not getting her pregnant too soon! A cold sweat sprang out on his upper lip. God! I hope she’s all right! Moving uncomfortably, Jonas heard her voice crying to him, felt her body trembling in his arms as she sobbed out her grief.

  There’s a reason your plan didn’t work, Thorne. You are by far too damned arrogant. While you thought you were giving her time to get over the miscarriage, everyone else, very likely Val included, thought you were punishing her. While you assumed that, given time, she would welcome you back into her bed, she probably thought you had washed your hands of the marriage. Would she even consent to speak to him if he called her? Jonas doubted it. And he really couldn’t blame her. Should he go after her? Try to make some kind of a deal?