Thorne's Wife

by Joan Hohl

  “Oh, my! Yes,” the woman murmured. “Please, Santa, bring me that for Christmas!”

  “I beg your pardon?” Val responded, frowning at the staring, avaricious expression on her companion’s face.

  “Him,” the woman said, nodding to indicate someone behind Val. “I’ll take him as is, no gift wrap necessary.”

  A chorus of avid agreement was raised by the other women in the group, all of whom had their glittering eyes glued to the person in question.

  Mildly curious, and grateful for the interruption of the rather dull discussion, Val turned to see the paragon who had called forth a sheen of pure lust on the other women’s faces. A spasm of shock quaked through her at the sight that met her eyes.

  He was attired in an expertly tailored tuxedo that molded and defined his broad shoulders and long, rawboned frame. A knife-pleated, sparkling white shirt gave sharp contrast to the unrelieved black. His chiseled jaw held at an arrogant angle, spine straight, shoulders squared, the man stood framed in the wide ballroom doorway, his narrow-eyed gaze slowly taking inventory of the guests, who were staring at him in gaping curiosity.

  “Who is he?” The awed question came from a gaunt middle-aged woman directly opposite Valerie.

  “I don’t know,” the woman who had first spotted him responded in a husky, thought-revealing tone. “But I intend to find out.”

  Turning her back on the unexpected late arrival, Val took a sip of her wine, then said casually, “His name is Jonas Thorne.”

  “He looks important,” one woman observed.

  “He looks powerful,” another woman opined.

  “He looks like he’d be great in bed,” the woman who’d first noticed him said bluntly.

  Valerie concealed a smile behind the glass she raised to her lips. She had been through a scene like this before. At that time, the obvious sexual interest in Jonas revealed by other women had both shocked and dismayed her. After three years, all Val experienced was amusement and pity.

  “I understand that he’s married to a very possessive, jealous woman,” she murmured.

  “Aren’t the terrific-looking ones always married?” the gaunt woman wailed.

  “It’s the story of my life.” The other woman sighed.

  “He may be married, but he’s alone now,” the original speaker noted in a tone of sheer calculation. “And,” she continued, smiling with smug satisfaction, “he’s heading my way.”

  Val nearly choked over the woman’s capacity for self-deception. Besides herself, there were three women in the group, yet this one was convinced she had snared his attention. Refusing to turn, Val sipped her wine and waited. She knew when he came to a stop beside her; a thrill trickled along her spine.

  “Valerie.” His voice was low, controlled, sexy.

  Val could actually feel the collective shudder of response that swept through her companions. Tilting her head, she gave him a distant smile. “Jonas. Let me introduce you to a few of the patrons of the rally.” Val felt grateful for her excellent memory as she rattled off their names.

  “Ladies,” he said smoothly, inclining his head.

  “Ladies,” Val echoed, her tone dry, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Jonas Thorne.”

  * * *

  “Cute.” Jonas made the observation from the corner of the limousine. “When did you decide you enjoyed creating uncomfortable little scenes?” he asked, referring to the gasps of surprise Val had drawn from the women by introducing him as her husband, and the furious spate of questions that had followed, which he had saved her from enduring by whisking her from the ballroom. Before Val had a chance to interpret his actions, he had swept her from the hotel and into the long gray car.

  Val shrugged. “I couldn’t resist,” she defended herself. “Those female barracudas were sizing you up like a side of beef on the auction block.”

  “And that bothered you?”

  Since his voice was free of inflection, and his face was shadowed so that she couldn’t read his expression, Val couldn’t tell whether Jonas was pleased or annoyed. Nervous, but determined not to let him see it, she carefully kept her own tone bland. “As a member of their sex, their behavior demeaned me.” She casually glanced out the side window and drew in a deep, calming breath. “May I ask where you’re taking me?” she inquired as she turned back to him.

  “My hotel.”

  Val felt a quick flash of irritation. “I have my own room, Jonas,” she said grittily.

  “I have an entire suite, Valerie,” Jonas retorted.

  “But my clothes are in my room!”

  “Give me your key,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up. “I’ll send the driver to collect your things.”

  “But…”

  Jonas’s control snapped. “Damn it, Val, you’re my wife! And though we’ve been sleeping in separate beds, I’ll be damned if I’ll tolerate sleeping in separate hotels.” He paused to draw an exasperated-sounding breath. “I know the driver. He’ll be careful packing your things….”

  “I packed nearly everything this afternoon,” Val informed him.

  Jonas’s shrug was a blur of movement in the shadows. “So, no big deal. He’ll finish the packing, then deliver your cases to my hotel.” His tone took on an edge of steel. “Now, give me your key…please.”

  Although his outburst had ignited Val’s anger, she subsided and flipped the catch on her evening bag. Unwilling to argue with him in the car, she withdrew the key and handed it to him. Tension crackled in the air between them during the remainder of the drive to his hotel. Sitting in frozen silence beside him, Val seethed with impotent rage. Jonas was spoiling for a fight. She could feel the vibrations radiating from him.

  Val had witnessed Jonas in a fight. She knew that, when geared for battle, Jonas was darned near invincible. Steeling herself for the coming confrontation, Val vowed that he would not win, at least not without knowing he’d been in the fight of his life.

  Valerie had expected to be delivered to the stately old hotel where she and Jonas had spent their wedding night. Instead, the limo glided to a stop in front of a fairly new building. As she stepped from the car, Valerie glanced up at the clean, straight lines of the tower, rising majestically above the surrounding structures. In a way she was disappointed, as she had decided it would be fitting to conduct their argument in the same suite in which they had spent their aborted honeymoon.

  Head high, her purpose firm, Val entered the hotel at Jonas’s side. The suite that Jonas ushered her into was lavish, if not steeped in the elegance of the suite they had shared three years ago. It consisted of four rooms, a spacious sitting room, two large bedrooms and a connecting bathroom. The floor-to-ceiling draperies were drawn in the sitting room and the largest of the bedrooms, revealing floor-to-ceiling walls of glass. The night view of the lights of the city below and the bay beyond the windows was spectacular.

  Dropping onto the settee the stole she’d worn against the evening damp and chill, Val walked to the wide expanse of window as if drawn by a magnet. “Beautiful,” she whispered, transfixed by the panorama before her.

  “Yes.”

  Val turned at the odd note in Jonas’s voice. His expression puzzled her. What was he thinking? she wondered, experiencing an inexplicable thrill of anticipation.

  * * *

  “Beautiful” seemed barely adequate to describe her, Jonas thought, feeling his insides tighten. Val was stunning, breathtaking. In the setting of the night view behind her, Val stood out like a rare gem in a collection of unpolished stones.

  She was wearing the off-the-shoulder, violet-hued chiffon gown she’d purchased for the occasion—the gown Jonas had decided had been designed to arouse male interest and admiration. The enticing way the chiffon draped her breasts, revealing just a hint of the gentle curves beneath, certainly succeeded in arousing him. Jonas felt his stomach clench at the thought of other men experiencing the same response to her fragile-looking beauty. Her only adornments were the filigree necklace and drop earr
ings he’d given her…and the rings encircling the third finger of her small left hand.

  A flash of possessiveness streaked through Jonas as his gaze lingered on the gold band nestled beside the large solitaire diamond that appeared too heavy for her slender finger. Slowly he trailed his gaze up her body to confront her. Val was his, and he’d be damned if he’d let her get away from him. But this time he’d play it smart, Jonas decided. He’d blown his chance to make things right with her the night of the reception, while they were in the garden. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  * * *

  Val stood poised in front of the window wall, her facade of composure concealing a growing uneasiness. Jonas was so quiet, too quiet. A curl of excitement combined with her uneasiness to make an explosive mixture when he slowly examined her with his narrowed eyes. The silence lengthened, tearing at her nerves. Val was afraid that if Jonas didn’t say something, and soon, she’d begin to unravel.

  “It’s time for us to talk.”

  Valerie started at the soft sound of his voice. Expecting him to attack with anger and impatience, she was confused by his reticence. Was she imagining things, or had she detected a hint of uncertainty underlying his quiet tone? Valerie hoped so, because she didn’t like the idea of being the only uncertain person in the room. “I know,” Val replied softly.

  He didn’t move for long seconds. Then, when he did, she jumped again. A wry smile twitched the corners of his lips. “Relax, sweetheart,” he drawled. “I’m not going to pounce on you.” Instead of walking toward her, Jonas strode to the small dining table that stood in one corner of the room. Picking up a large folder, he flipped it open. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t have dinner and I’m hungry.” He gave her an inquisitive look.

  Not quite sure what to make of his mild manner, Val simply stared at him, trying to gauge his mood.

  “Val, are you hungry?”

  Now Val was really confused. Rather than impatient, Jonas actually seemed amused. Relieved, yet still suspicious, she answered, “Yes, a little. I didn’t eat very much of my dinner.”

  Jonas grinned, and thoroughly rattled Val in the process. “The usual tasteless banquet chicken, huh?”

  Stunned by his show of good humor, Val replied without thinking. “No, I think it was some sort of beef, but I really don’t remember.”

  “Whatever.” Jonas shrugged, and glanced down at the folder. “Let’s see what room service has to offer.”

  “Jonas, it’s nearly midnight,” Val reminded him. “Isn’t it too late for room service?”

  “No,” he murmured, intent on the menu. “This hotel offers twenty-four-hour room service. But it is too late for dinner. After eleven it’s mostly snack foods, but they do have a selection of basket meals.” Once again he glanced up to give her a questioning look.

  Perfect, Val thought. A basket meal for a basket case. Distracted, she asked, “What’s the basket meal?”

  Jonas kept a straight face. “A basket meal, Valerie, is a meal contained in a basket.”

  “I know that!” Val flashed a quick, tremulous smile, and felt a spark of warmth flutter inside when Jonas inhaled sharply in response. “Ah…” She paused, trying to recall the subject. Food! Right. “What I’m asking is: what does the meal in the basket contain?”

  Jonas laughed, spreading the warmth inside Val. “We have our choice of several,” he answered, the low sexiness of his voice at variance with the mundane topic. “There are chicken fingers, burgers and their version of a Philly cheese steak,” he recited, referring to the menu. “They all come with French fries and slaw on the side.” Jonas raised his head and one eyebrow simultaneously. “You want to try the steak?”

  “No thanks.” Val gave him a knowing look and a brief shake of her head. “I’ve tried other places’ versions of a Philly cheese steak. I’ll wait till I get back to Philly and have the real thing.” She thought it over for a moment, then decided, “I think I’ll have a burger.”

  “Okay.” Jonas reached for the phone.

  “With cheese.”

  “Fine.” He punched the room service number.

  “And bacon.”

  He shot her a droll look. “Right.”

  “And lettuce and tomato and mayo.”

  Jonas lost control. Holding his palm over the receiver, he roared with laughter. “I thought you said you were only a little hungry?” he gasped as his laughter subsided.

  With a nonchalance that belied the melting sensation his amusement induced within her, Val strolled to the settee. “That was fifteen minutes ago,” she informed him with a regal air. “My appetite has sharpened since then.”

  “My appetite’s pretty sharp, too,” Jonas muttered before he responded to the prompting from room service.

  His double-edged remark stole Val’s breath and increased the melting sensation. Feeling suddenly light-headed, boneless, she sank onto the settee. She didn’t know what kind of game Jonas was playing, but then she didn’t much care, either. Experiencing an odd, exciting sense of adventure, Val waited expectantly for whatever might develop.

  After placing their order, Jonas circled the table to the long cabinet set against the wall. “The person in room service said it’ll be about fifteen minutes. Would you like a drink while we wait?” He swung one cabinet door open to reveal two fully stocked shelves of bottles.

  “Is there any white wine?” Val asked, smoothing the long chiffon skirt over her knees with trembling fingers.

  Jonas gave her a dry look. “Of course. Had you seriously thought I’d forgotten that you never drink anything other than white wine?”

  “No….” She hesitated, then confessed. “At least, I had hoped you hadn’t forgotten.” The issue was minor, yet Val was amazed how very important it was to her to hear that he had remembered.

  “Hoped?” Jonas asked with a sigh. “Have I been so neglectful of you, Val, that you would even doubt?”

  Tension slammed back into Val, robbing her of the heady sense of adventure and excitement. Disappointed, she lowered her eyes. “Jonas…I…”

  “Never mind.” Jonas spoke, not impatiently, but in a surprising, almost supplicating tone. “You don’t have to say it, I know the answer.” Then his voice changed, becoming brusque. “There’s a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge.”

  Val glanced up to see him swing open the door on the other side of the cabinet to reveal a small refrigerator, complete with ice trays and bottles of mixers, seltzers and mineral water. Reaching down, he removed a dark foil-capped bottle from the wine rack mounted on the door. After closing the door, he turned, smiling wryly as he held up the bottle for her inspection.

  “Impressive,” Val murmured at the sight of the imported label. “A meal of burgers served with champagne that costs one hundred and fifty dollars a bottle?”

  Jonas shrugged. “Well, it’s not the best,” he said, turning to pick up two long-stemmed tulip glasses from the tray on top of the cabinet. “But it’ll have to do.” He removed the foil wrap and wire guard, then with a deft twist of his hand eased the cork from the bottle with a muted pop, without losing a drop of the bubbling contents.

  He poured the golden liquid into the glasses and had started toward her when a light knock sounded on the door.

  “Dinner?” Val guessed, holding out her hands in a silent offer to relieve him of the glasses.

  Stepping to her, Jonas handed her the tulips, then turned toward the door. “Could be the driver with your cases.”

  It was. After the man had departed, Jonas carried the two suitcases into the bedroom…his bedroom. Setting the glasses on the low table in front of the settee, Val rose and trailed into the room after him. Jonas shot her a narrowed, challenging look as she entered.

  “I, ah, think I’ll change into something more casual,” she said, hoping to keep the atmosphere between them defused by removing the gown that seemed to have an explosive effect on Jonas.

  “No, don’t,” he said quickly, then continued
with a suggestive smile. “At least, not until after dinner.”

  Val frowned in confusion. “But I thought you didn’t like the gown, Jonas!”

  Leaving the cases where he’d dropped them, Jonas came to her. Raising a hand, he caught a bit of the filmy material capping her shoulders and slid it between his fingers. “It’s a beautiful gown, and even more beautiful on you, Val,” he murmured. “What I didn’t particularly like was having you wear it for anyone else but me.”

  Val went weak and swayed toward him. “Oh, Jonas.”

  Jonas brought up his other hand to grasp her shoulder as he slowly lowered his head to hers. Val could feel his moist breath against her mouth. The mood was shattered by another knock on the door and a muffled voice announcing: “Room service.”

  Jonas froze. He frowned. Then he swore.

  Laughing softly, Val raised one hand and silenced him with a finger over his lips. “You get the door,” she instructed, moving away from him. “I’ll get the wine.”

  Glasses in her hands, Val stood patiently by as the waiter transferred the food and utensils from the serving cart to the table.

  “I’ll leave the cart by the door,” he said, as Jonas ushered him from the room. “Just roll it into the hallway when you’re finished.”

  “Fine,” Jonas replied, bringing a wide smile to the man’s face with a large tip. “And thank you.” He shut the door firmly, cutting off the waiter’s profuse thanks.

  “You weren’t very polite to the poor man,” Val chastised Jonas laughingly, as he slid into the chair opposite her at the small table.

  “But I was generous,” Jonas retorted, raising his glass to her in a silent salute. “Now eat your dinner before it gets stone-cold.”

  Val accepted his salute by taking a sip of the wine, then murmured in obvious amusement, “Yes, sir, Mr. Thorne, sir.”

  Jonas grew still, the burger in his hands poised midway between the basket and his mouth.

  “Jonas?” Val asked hesitantly, suddenly nervous again. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  A faint smile, partly sad, partly reflective, played over his firm mouth. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you’ve called me that in that irreverent, teasing tone?”