A British Bride by Agreement (16 page)

“No, I’m fine.”

She led him through the empty hall, past
an empty dining room and into the kitchen that needed a few barstools. She
snuck a glance at her appearance in a hall mirror and was appalled to see her
hair sticking straight out on one side.

He opened the fridge and poured a glass
of orange juice. “How’s the decorating going?”

She stopped trying to fix her hair and
tucked it behind her ear. How could she tell him that meetings with Franz and
his team and listening to their strange ideas, feigning interest in their
antiquated fabric samples, wall paper, paint, crown molding, rugs, was
frustrating and overwhelming.
“Fine.”

“Is the money adequate?”

So far, on the few things she’d
purchased, she’d only spent five thousand. “Yes.”

“Sorry I couldn’t make the Cardinal
dinner. How’d it go?”

Her eyes widened. His chest tightened.
She shot a glance at the clock. 2:15 a.m.? She’d slept through it. Gripping her
hands together, she struggled to find the right words. “I—I didn’t go.”

He set his glass down. “What?”

“I forgot—I mean, I guess I fell asleep
while I was waiting.”

He paced away for a brief second,
then
turned back. “But,” he pressed his mouth into a thin
line, “that was a great honor to be invited. To not go, without even a call, was
rude. I thought we talked about this. That I wouldn’t be able to go, but you
would be there to represent the family. I asked Nick to arrange a driver for
you.” He shook his head. “That guy can’t be trusted to get things done.”

Emma folded her arms. “I’m sorry. I told
him I would drive myself, and I was really tired after meeting with Franz for
the third time. And I visited five furniture stores, and an endless array of
clothing stores. All your sisters want to do is shop, shop, shop.”

His lips tilted in a smirk. “You shopped
and that made you tired?”

Heat filled her face.
Men.
They had no idea. “I am trying to be a good wife.” Her hands turned into fists
at her sides. She was failing at being his wife. Her voice rose. “And if you
can’t appreciate that—”

He caught her fists and pulled her to
him. His lips were just a few inches from hers. “I understand. This is a very
over whelming world to become a part of.”

She tensed. Did he really care for her?
Her gaze drifted to his lips. Would he kiss her?

“Where’s Adele?”

Her gaze latched onto his.
“Gone for the night.”

“Lester?”

She had to think for a second. She got
Lester the butler and Leonard their cook confused.

“Lester is gone and Lenard is cooking
for your sister’s party tonight.”

“So we’re all alone?”

Her breath caught in her throat. His
intense stare was consuming and her legs were turning into butter. Until a
sweet, earthy smell wafted over her and threw a wet rag on her attraction.

Speed
by Lord Byron.
Her father’s cologne.
The one Montgomery Waterhouse wore
when trying to impress others made her pull back. That cologne’s availability
was limited by year, due to the extravagance and rarity of its ingredients,
making it the most expensive cologne a man can wear.

“I think I’ll go to bed.”

His brows drew together in a frown. “I
thought we could stay up and talk.”

Mixed emotions fought for space in her
heart. She cared for Jonathan, but there was something she still resented in
the lifestyle he represented. Even the day he took her shopping in Munich
didn’t feel right. She needed to sort these feelings out before she could allow
him into her heart.

“Could we do it another time? I’m really
tired.”

His gaze fell. “Sure. Get some sleep.”

She closed the door to her bedroom and
leaned against it. She could hear him shut his own bedroom door and flip on the
light. She pressed her eyes shut. He was just on the other side of the wall.
And by the way he acted
tonight,
he seemed to be
attracted to her. She pictured herself knocking on his door and slipping into
his arms. And where would that lead?

CHAPTER NINE

Later in the week, Jonathan got to work
early to read up on the local charity groups he would be visiting today. In order
to be an effective leader, he needed to know who and what he was leading. After
Ms. Garrison’s poor, but true assessment of him, he decided to start meeting
with some of the heads of the groups the Steller Foundation supported.

The first on the list was a teenage
pregnancy home, followed by a drug rehab center, a food distribution center,
and the children’s AIDS group led by Ms. Garrison. Once he returned to the
office and had his report written on his recommendations for improving the
charities, his review of each charity’s use of funding, and ideas for future
support, he hoped it would prove himself to his father.

He reached in his pocket and found a
crumpled note. He unfolded it and gazed at the feminine hand. Emma.
Have a wonderful day. I’ll be praying for
you.
She was consuming more and more of his thoughts these days. His mind
drifted to their odd exchange earlier in the week. He could have sworn she’d
acted as if she cared for him more like a true wife, but when he tried to get
close, she shut down. Was it all the hours he’d been working?

He hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time
with her, or shared how challenging this new position was. He certainly hadn’t
told her about the charity being scammed. Maybe he could tell her about it
later tonight, even ask her opinion on a few things. He stared at his stark
office. He needed some pictures in here and a photo of Emma to cheer up his
cluttered desk would be nice.
Something that captured her
sunny expression, the soft glow of her skin, the brilliance of her green
eyes—for image sake, of course.
Behind every
successful businessman… and all that.

He rang his secretary. “Geraldine.”

“Yes Mr. Steller?”

“Would you phone my wife and ask her for
a framed picture of herself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, he grabbed his schedule for
the day and headed out for what might be one of his best tactics for improving
the charity and advancing his career.

He arrived at the Charlack Home for
Unwed Mothers just after breakfast. The girls were clearing the tables in the
eating area when he met the head of the center Dorothy Quirk. Her graying hair,
and kind, gentle demeanor made her the perfect person to help girls through
their troubling time.

“Mr. Steller, I’m so glad you’ve come. I
would like to give you a tour of our facility, but would you consider saying a
few words to the girls first? They are just completing their morning chores and
would like nothing more than to hear from you.”

Jonathan tugged on his collar. Although
often in the spotlight because of his family, he still wasn’t very comfortable
with public speaking. The girls whispered and nudged each other until all their
eyes were on him.

These teenagers wore pigtails,
lip-gloss, and heart-shaped necklaces. They seemed way too young to be
pregnant. He couldn’t imagine his sisters being in this situation. His neck
muscles tightened. They were babies having babies. What did he have to say to
them? He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I have anything that would
interest—”

A low whistle, the kind a guy would make
at a cute girl sounded from the back of the room.

“Ladies,” Dorothy blew the whistle
around her neck. “That is not appropriate.” She leaned in toward him. “They’re
just shy girls.”

One of his brows rose. Obviously not
that shy
.

The girls sat in rows of folding chairs
chewing gum.
Many with rapt expressions of frank admiration.

Dorothy nudged Jonathan toward the
podium. “The girls are anxious to get to their studies, but I’m sure they’ll
give you their full attention.

 
“Good morning, ladies. I hope you are all
well.” He gripped the side of the small stand.

“We are since you came,” a voice shouted
back.

Dorothy peered over her glasses. “Don’t
make me blow my whistle again.”

He shifted his stance. “Thank you for
having me today. I’m glad the Steller Corporation can be a part of your lives,
even for just a short time. And I…” A little girl dressed in jeans and a pink
sweatshirt sat on a chair to the side, sucking her thumb. She looked all of ten
years old. Anger gripped his throat. “I just wanted to say—”

“Are you married?” A girl in a low cut
tight white t-shirt called out from the front row.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. Emma would
be so much better at this. He wished she were here now. “I’m married and I hope
you all will be too, someday. Thank you and have a great day.”

Dorothy stood by Jonathan. “Please give
a hand to our corporate sponsor, Jonathan Steller.”

As the thunder of enthusiastic clapping
and whistling sounded around him, he breathed a sigh of relief as she led him
from the room.

An hour later, he gratefully shut the
door of his Hummer and savored the muted quietness. He rubbed the back of his
taut neck with his hand. “Well, that went well.”

Soon he arrived at the Hillsdale House,
a drug treatment center for those who had tried more traditional treatment
facilities and failed. Jonathan was very proud that their success rate was
higher than the national average. This was another tour and a meeting with the
administrator. Jonathan let out a sigh. “Please, Lord, let this one go better.”

Once inside the locked facility, Kevin
Gibbs, a military-looking man that Nick had just hired greeted him sporting a
severe haircut and a handshake that could crunch bones. He led Jonathan into a
day room.

People were sitting around talking,
reading, listening to music with headphones. “Classes start up again in a few
minutes, so this a break time for them. I’d like to introduce you to some of
our people who are responding really well to treatment and are almost ready to
leave the program.”

Jonathan nodded. He’d make a mental note
of their names, to put in the report to his father.
Steller
money having an impact on the world.
Ich
werde
hilfe
—I
will help.
The Steller motto in action.

“This is Dina.” A rail thin woman with
no teeth and many lines deeply etched into her face, sucked on a cigarette as
if it was her last.

“Nice to meet
ya
.”
Her voice, akin to a gravel truck, rumbled around
him.

Jonathan stifled a shudder. She was a
success story?

“And here’s Ryan. He’s been with us for
two years and is ready to move into our halfway house.”

The man’s eyes shifted nervously. His
feet didn’t stop moving. “Yeah, Kevin here sure knows how to run a tight ship.”
He offered a nervous laugh, then continued biting his nails and spitting the
chewed up fragments onto the floor.

Jonathan discreetly shook one of the
fragments off his Italian leather shoes.

The director nodded. “And here is
Anthony.”

The red-haired boy wore his hair
extremely short cut, but when he went to shake Jonathan’s hand, scars lined
both arms. “I had issues with suicide.” He snickered. “But I don’t think about
it so much now.”

Jonathan nodded. He had no idea how
rough drug recovery was. Or how unrecovered the people looked. He couldn’t tell
his father about this. After the tour, he was supposed to have an early lunch with
a few of the residents, but begged off. His stomach was in knots after all he’d
seen.

Heaving out a sigh, Jonathan sat in his
car and gripped his steering wheel.
He
never wanted to go back there.
Ever.
Some charity
leader he was turning out to be. All his noble ideas of helping people, of
finding ways to improve these charity groups had been pulverized to dust along
with his ego.

 
Determined not to give up, he headed toward
the Steller Food Distribution Center. As he pulled into the parking lot, the sight
of the long line of young mothers with children clinging to them brought
a heaviness
to his chest. He’d lived a very sheltered
existence until now, very rarely thinking about the poor. It was time for him
to grow up and be a man.
A man who wanted to serve God.

Jonathan parked his car and walked over
to the people waiting. He introduced himself to the ladies who asked him all
kinds of questions about his organization. He picked up one blond boy with
outstretched arms.