Tall, Dark & Scandalous. Кэрол Мортимер
she reasoned practically.
‘You might have a sudden urge to try one of the four-poster beds!’ Jordan teased.
‘Oh, give it a break, Jordan,’ the little redhead growled.
He shrugged. ‘I can’t see any point in you staying on here if I can’t make life uncomfortable for you.’
Neither could Stephanie at the moment, but she lived in hope that she might eventually be able to change Jordan’s mind about accepting her professional help. In the meantime, getting him to take a walk with her was better than nothing.
‘I’ll just go upstairs and get my thicker jacket. It’s quite cold outside for October.’
‘If that was your subtle way of telling me that I need to wrap up warm too, then I strongly advise you not to treat me like a child,’ Jordan told her.
‘I wasn’t treating you like a—’ She stopped, frowning as she realised that was exactly what she had been doing. In an effort, perhaps, to try and keep their relationship on a professional footing rather than the flirtatious one Jordan kept reducing it to with his questionable remarks. ‘I—’ She broke off again as the telephone began to ring.
Well…one of them. There was an extension for the landline on the desktop, as well as two mobiles—one black and one silver. Stephanie could understand the landline, but who needed two mobiles, for goodness’ sake?
Jordan picked up the black mobile, checking the caller ID before taking the call. ‘Hi, Crista,’ he said, and he turned his back on Stephanie to look out of the window.
Stephanie stared at the broad expanse of that muscled back, at the way the white T-shirt stretched tautly over his shoulders, and debated whether she should go or stay. The call was obviously private. From Crista Moore, the woman Jordan had been reportedly involved with before his accident.
‘Stay!’ Jordan barked as he turned and saw that Stephanie was about to leave.
‘Woof, woof!’ She wrinkled her nose at him before going ahead and leaving anyway.
Jordan found himself smiling as he watched the sway of those curvaceous hips and taut bottom as Stephanie walked down the hallway. She really was the most—
‘No, I wasn’t talking to you, Crista,’ he said lightly into the receiver as the caller queried his last comment. ‘Oh, just a—an associate of my brother’s,’ he said evasively, easily able to imagine the tall, slender blonde actress as she sat in her apartment in LA.
Of all the people Jordan had known before the accident, Crista was definitely the most persistent—calling him at least once a week to see how he was and when he would be coming back to LA. As Jordan had no intention of ever resuming their relationship, any more than he had immediate plans to return to LA, he usually kept those telephone calls short.
Even so, Stephanie was sitting at the kitchen table impatiently waiting for him by the time Jordan had ended the call and collected his coat. ‘Hmm, something smells good.’ He sniffed appreciatively at the saucepan he could see simmering on top of the Aga.
‘Soup for lunch,’ she supplied economically as she stood up to pull on a heavy black jacket. ‘No, I don’t see that as acting the housekeeper,’ she defended irritably as Jordan raised mocking brows. ‘For your body to be healthy you need to eat healthily, that’s all.’
He smiled. ‘So you’re saying you only made lunch because you consider feeding me a part of my treatment?’
Those green eyes narrowed. ‘Exactly.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Jordan—’
‘Stephanie?’
She wasn’t fooled for a moment by Jordan’s too-innocent expression, knowing he was just trying to irritate her again. And obviously succeeding! ‘Why do you need two mobile phones?’ she asked, as she pulled on a pair of black gloves to keep her hands warm.
A slight frown appeared between those amber-gold eyes. ‘What?’
She shrugged. ‘I noticed earlier that there were two mobiles on the desk in the study, and I was just curious as to why you would need two when most people manage fine with just one?’
‘Maybe because I’m two people?’ Jordan finally replied, deciding that Stephanie McKinley was far too observant for his comfort sometimes.
She arched auburn brows. ‘Because you’re both Jordan Simpson and Jordan St Claire?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why did you change your name when you became an actor? Jordan St Claire is quite a charismatic name—’
‘Are we going for this walk or not?’ Jordan’s mouth thinned as he stepped forward and pointedly opened the back door for her.
‘We are.’ Stephanie nodded as she stepped outside. ‘So you actually consider Jordan Simpson and Jordan St Claire to be two distinctly different people?’ she persisted as he locked the door behind them before joining her on the path.
Jordan didn’t consider them to be anything—they were two distinctly different people! As different as night and day. And non-interchangeable. ‘Could we just get this walk over with, do you think?’ he barked, before striding off in the direction of Mulberry Hall.
‘Of course.’ Stephanie deliberately measured her strides so that they were in step with his much slower ones. ‘You never considered working in the St Claire Corporation?’ she prompted curiously.
It was a curiosity that was probably understandable in the circumstances. Except Jordan wasn’t presently known for his understanding! ‘Have you ever heard of maintaining a companionable silence when out walking?’
Of course Stephanie had heard of it; it just wasn’t something that was ever likely to happen between herself and Jordan! An awkward silence, perhaps. An uncomfortable silence, even. A totally physically aware one, certainly. At least on her part…The scowl on Jordan’s arrogantly handsome face as he stomped along beside her didn’t give the impression that he was in the least aware of her, or anyone else for that matter.
‘Wow!’
Jordan leant tiredly against one of the four marble pillars in the magnificent hallway of Mulberry Hall as Stephanie gazed up in awe at the huge Venetian glass chandelier hanging down from the frescoed ceiling high above them. Jordan’s leg was aching too much from the half-mile or so walk over here for him to share her enthusiasm. Besides, he had seen the inside of Mulberry Hall dozens of times before.
‘This is…I mean, wow!’
‘I get that you’re in awe,’ Jordan drawled dryly as he watched her wandering around the cavernous hallway, admiring the beautiful marble floor and statuary.
‘And you aren’t?’ Her eyes were wide with accusation.
‘Not particularly, no,’ Jordan muttered as he pushed himself away from the pillar to lean heavily on his cane and walk towards the main salon at the front of the house.
Stephanie trailed slowly along behind him, her eyes bright with pleasure as she came to stand on the threshold of the room, looking at the beautiful gold and cream decor and delicate Regency furniture. ‘Has Lucan never thought of opening this up to the public?’
‘Definitely not.’ Jordan almost laughed at the thought of the expression of disgust that would appear on his eldest brother’s face if anyone dared to suggest he should open the doors of Mulberry Hall to all and sundry. ‘I don’t recommend that you suggest it to him, either—unless you want to feel the icy blast of his complete disapproval.’
‘But it seems such a waste.’ Stephanie frowned. ‘The building itself must be very old.’
‘Early Elizabethan, I believe.’
Stephanie crossed the room to lightly