Jordan St Claire: Dark and Dangerous (12 page)

The three brothers’ relationship with their father had been sporadic at best after their parents’ separation and divorce, with none of them in any doubt as to who was to blame for the breakdown of the marriage. But their mother—their mother had always been there for all of them. Molly loved without wanting to possess, without judging. She never pushed. She cajoled. She never forced her own views onto any of her sons but instead encouraged them to make their own decisions and choices. And if any of those choices should be the wrong ones then she was there for them. Always.

Now it was time for them to be there for her …

‘I’m so sorry.’ Stephanie had moved to sit down on a chair on the opposite side of the desk.

‘Nothing’s certain yet,’ Jordan said. ‘It’s a preliminary examination and may amount to nothing.’

‘But.’

‘Exactly.
But …’
He nodded grimly. ‘Strange, isn’t it?’ he mused. ‘How learning that someone you love may be seriously ill can shake you out of what Gideon—and incidentally you too—call wallowing in self-pity!’

Stephanie’s cheeks coloured hotly. ‘I only said that because—’

‘Because it happens to be the truth,’ Jordan said honestly as he stood to pick up his cane and begin restlessly pacing the room. ‘My mother was the first member of the family to arrive in LA when I had my accident. She stayed at my bedside the whole time I was in hospital, and then again at my apartment for weeks afterwards. Always encouraging. Always positive. And all the time this damned thing was eating away at her.’

‘You said nothing is certain yet,’ Stephanie reminded him softly as she watched him pace.

‘It’s enough that the possibility is there.’ Jordan’s expression became even grimmer. ‘We’re going back to London tomorrow, Stephanie, and once we know exactly what’s happening with my mother you’re going to help me get my full health back.’

Stephanie couldn’t have been more pleased that Jordan was at last willing to consider therapy on his leg and hip—although she might have wished the circumstances for making his decision had been different—but she was no longer sure she was the person to help him do it.

She had allowed herself to become personally involved with Jordan. More than just personally involved with him on a physical level. She didn’t even want to
think
about what she might feel for him on an emotional one!

Except, she realised, that she already felt something.

Later, Stephanie,
she instructed herself firmly. There would be plenty of opportunity once she and Jordan had said goodbye for her to analyse her feelings for him.

‘That’s wonderful, Jordan,’ she said with approval. ‘I’m more than happy to recommend another physiotherapist to you.’

‘I don’t want another physiotherapist, damn it!’ Jordan growled as he came to stand in front of her. ‘Stephanie?’ He bent down slightly to place a hand beneath her chin and tilt her face up to his. ‘Look at me!’ he barked as her gaze avoided meeting his.

Stephanie looked up, and then as quickly glanced away again as she found herself unable to meet the intensity of that golden gaze. She shook her head. ‘You must see—understand—that I can’t possibly work with you now, Jordan.’ Just the touch of his fingers against her chin was enough to reawaken all that earlier arousal. She longed for his hand to be touching more than her chin.

‘Are you asking for my word that what happened earlier won’t happen again?’ he rasped. He shook his head. ‘I can’t give that. Can you?’

She moistened dry lips before answering him huskily, ‘No. Which is my whole point,’ she continued, before Jordan could comment. ‘I can’t possibly work with a man I’ve—A man who—’ Stephanie groaned. She couldn’t even say the words. ‘I don’t get personally involved with my patients, Jordan.’

He frowned down at her, making no effort to hide his frustration with her continued stubbornness.

Having made his decision to stop wallowing and actually do something about his leg, he wasn’t willing to simply let Stephanie recommend someone else and then walk away from him.

Lucan only ever employed the best person there was for any particular job—which meant that Stephanie McKinley had to be the best physiotherapist the St Claire millions could buy. If Jordan was going to get back on both his feet, then the best was what he needed.

And it was
all
that he needed from Stephanie right now.

He released her chin abruptly and stepped back. ‘I don’t believe we
are
personally involved.’

She blinked. ‘But earlier—’

‘Forget earlier,’ he advised icily. ‘It never happened. I’ve just been playing with you,’ he added. ‘From now on we’ll concentrate on what you really came here to do.’

Forget earlier. It never happened. I’ve just been playing with you …

It was the last of those statements that hurt Stephanie the most. Because she knew it was the truth? Or because it was already too late for her not to be emotionally involved with him?

A lot of good it would do her if she were!

At the moment Jordan St Claire was a man who had become out of touch with his real charming self as well as the life he had led before the accident. The A-list actor Jordan Simpson wouldn’t even have looked at Stephanie McKinley twice. In fact he probably wouldn’t have bothered looking at her once! And when Jordan was back on two healthy legs—

‘Are you going to help me or not, Stephanie?’

He wouldn’t look at her again, Stephanie finished with painful honesty.

She had initially taken this job with absolutely no doubt as to her professional ability to help Lucan St Claire’s brother. The fact that the brother had turned out to be Jordan Simpson had complicated things from the beginning. That Stephanie’s attraction to him had allowed things between them to go as awry as they had was more than a complication.

So, was she now going to let her emotions stand in the way of giving Jordan the help he needed? Was she going to deny him that help when he had finally asked her for it?

Stephanie knew she couldn’t do that. Her professional dedication simply wouldn’t allow it.

‘Yes, Jordan, I’m sure I can help you.’ She nodded as she stood up. She only hoped it was true. Just as she hoped that she could put away her personal feelings for this man and concentrate on helping him regain full health. ‘Although I’m not too sure about flying to London in a helicopter,’ she added with a grimace. She found flying in a normal plane traumatic enough, so goodness knew how she would feel in a flimsy helicopter.

He chuckled softly. ‘We’ll be quite safe with Gideon—he flies the same way he does everything. With icy reserve,’ he supplied as Stephanie gave him a curious glance.

‘I thought his earlier coolness was because he disapproved of me.’ After all, he’d had reason enough to disapprove after the scene he had almost walked in on!

‘No.’ Jordan gave a humourless smile. ‘You’re no
exception to the rule, Stephanie—Gideon makes a point of disapproving of everyone.’

The three St Claire men were totally different from any other men she had ever met, Stephanie mused minutes later as she made her way up the stairs to bed. Lucan was cold and arrogant. Gideon icily reserved. Jordan—

Perhaps she had better not think any more about what sort of man Jordan was!

She especially shouldn’t think about his recent admission that he had just been playing with her earlier on.

Jordan was seated in the front of the helicopter beside Gideon as they took off. Instinct alone made him glance back at Stephanie, only to realise that she had a death-grip on the arms of her own seat, her short fingernails digging into the leather.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked with concern.

She didn’t even glance at him but continued to stare straight ahead, her eyes wide in a face that was completely devoid of colour, her jaw clenched as she spoke between gritted teeth. ‘Fine.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Jordan contradicted flatly as he undid his seat-belt. ‘Keep it steady, Gideon,’ he warned as he began to climb into the back.

‘What are you doing?’ Stephanie’s expression was one of complete panic as Jordan’s movements redistributed the weight and made the helicopter tilt slightly from side to side.

‘Coming to sit next to you,’ Jordan explained patiently as he sat down and buckled himself into the seat. Then he reached out and prised the fingers closest to him from the armrest, before taking Stephanie’s hand
firmly into his own. ‘You don’t like flying.’ He stated the obvious.

‘Hate it! ‘ she muttered as her fingers tightened painfully about his. ‘No criticism of your capabilities intended, Gideon,’ she added shakily.

‘None taken, I assure you,’ he drawled confidently from the front of the aircraft.

Jordan ignored his brother’s insouciance and concentrated on Stephanie. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me you don’t like flying?’

She flashed him a green-eyed glare before hastily resuming her death-stare towards the front of the helicopter. ‘I did tell you last night that I wasn’t sure about flying in a helicopter!’

‘Not sure and terrified are two distinctly different things!’

‘What difference would it have made if I had been more forceful about it?’ she snapped.

‘We could have let Gideon fly back on his own and driven down.’

Stephanie shook her head, and then obviously regretted it as even her lips seemed to go white. ‘You needed to get to London as quickly as possible.’ Her jaw was once again tightly clenched.

Jordan scowled. ‘If it had been that urgent then we would have flown down last night. You—’

‘Leave the girl alone, Jordan,’ Gideon rapped out from the front of the plane. ‘Can’t you see she feels ill?’

Jordan could see that all too easily. He was furious with himself for not realising how nervous Stephanie was about flying—preferably before the helicopter had taken off!

His fingers tightened about hers. ‘You’re an idiot for not telling me.’

‘Thank you so much for that, Jordan,’ Stephanie snarled back. ‘Comments on my mental state are just what I want to hear when I’m hanging hundreds of feet from the ground in a helicopter that looks as if a brisk wind might blow it out of the sky!’

Gideon chuckled softly in the pilot seat. ‘No need to worry, Stephanie. The accident record in this type of helicopter is minimal, I assure you.’

‘Minimal, maybe,’ she gritted out through her teeth. ‘But not non-existent.’

‘I suggest you keep any more helpful information like that to yourself, Gid,’ Jordan said.

‘I could always turn back—’

‘No!’ Stephanie shuddered at the mere thought of Gideon turning the helicopter, let alone landing it on the helipad behind Mulberry Hall.

‘But if this really is a problem for you, Stephanie …?’ Jordan frowned, clearly not happy.

‘We’re in the air now,’ she said tautly, her fingers curled so tightly about Jordan’s that she was sure she must be cutting off the blood supply to his own fingers. ‘I’ll just make a mental note to myself to never,
ever
fly in a helicopter again!’

Stephanie was grateful for having Jordan’s hand to hold during the rest of the flight, but even so, by the time they landed at the private airfield a few miles outside London, where the St Claire helicopter was obviously parked when not in use, she was aching from head to toe from the pure tension of just getting through the flight. Even her teeth ached as she staggered thankfully down onto the tarmac and all but fell into the chauffeur-driven car that was waiting for them to arrive.

‘All right now?’ Jordan prompted gently as he climbed into the back beside her, while Gideon sat in the front with the chauffeur, the glass partition raised to give them privacy.

Stephanie dropped her head back onto the leather seat beside him, some of the colour thankfully returning to her cheeks as she swallowed before answering. ‘That was the most terrifying experience of my life.’

Jordan gave a mocking grin. ‘You have yet to share a house with the whole of the St Claire clan.’

Stephanie had shared a house with Jordan for the past few days, and that had been traumatic enough!

Although he looked most unlike the unkempt man she had spent those two days with. When he’d appeared in the kitchen earlier this morning his long hair had been washed and brushed back from his face in silky dark waves, his jaw freshly shaven, once again revealing that fascinating—and sexy!—dimple in the centre of his chin, and he was wearing a pale brown cashmere sweater over a cream-coloured shirt and tailored brown trousers with brown shoes.

Today he looked every inch the charismatic actor Jordan Simpson—which was probably the whole point of the exercise, when he was about to see the mother the three St Claire men so obviously all adored.

Stephanie certainly felt decidedly underdressed in the company of the handsome St Claire twins, wearing her normal jeans and a white T-shirt beneath a short black jacket. Their arrival at St Claire House in Mayfair only confirmed her rapidly growing impression—after the grandeur of the Mulberry Hall estate and then flying around in a private helicopter—that she was completely out of her depth with this family. The townhouse itself
was absolutely enormous: four storeys high, with a painted cream façade.

A stiffly formal butler opened the door to admit the three of them into the cavernous entrance hall.

‘Mr St Claire is in his study, and Her—
Mrs
St Claire is upstairs in her suite, resting,’ the grey-haired man politely answered Jordan’s query.

‘I’ll leave Lucan to you while I go up and see Mother,’ Jordan informed Gideon, and he took a firm hold on Stephanie’s elbow.

‘Thanks,’ his twin accepted dryly. ‘No doubt I’ll see you later, Stephanie.’ He quirked quizzical blond brows at her.

‘No doubt,’ she answered distractedly.

‘A tray of tea things upstairs for Miss McKinley, if you please, Parker,’ Jordan instructed the butler, before putting a hand beneath Stephanie’s elbow and escorting her to the back of the hallway, to open the two carved oak doors there and reveal a lift. ‘My grandmother had arthritis, and had it installed fifty years ago so that she could still go upstairs,’ he explained as they stepped inside the spacious mirror-walled lift.