Jonas had seen her as a woman and, just as importantly, she’d viewed him as a man. She was intensely attracted to him and had been for weeks, she just wouldn’t admit it.
The driver, chatting easily in French, pointed out the sights, but instead of seeing the magnificent beauty in the buildings that surrounded her, Stephanie’s thoughts revolved around Jonas. She wondered about him as a child, and what pain there’d been in his youth to snuff out the joy in his life.
Straightening, she shook her head and asked him in French, “Please take me back to the hotel.”
The driver gave her a funny look. “Oui.”
Stephanie had hoped to see the Louvre, but it wouldn’t have been open at this time of night. As it was, she didn’t seem to be able to view any of the sights without including Jonas in what she saw. It was useless to pretend otherwise.
Back at the hotel, she gave the driver a generous tip and thanked him. The lobby was quiet, and the soft strains of someone playing the piano sounded in the distance. Stephanie briefly toyed with the idea of stopping in the lounge for a nightcap, but quickly rejected the idea. She wouldn’t have any problems sleeping now.
Being extra-cautious not to make any unnecessary noise, Stephanie silently slipped inside the hotel room. She was halfway across the floor when the harsh voice ripped into her.
“Miss Coulter, I didn’t bring you to Paris to sneak out in the middle of the night.”
Stephanie reacted with a startled gasp, her hand flying to her breast.
“Just who were you meeting? Some young lover?” The words were spoken with a sharp cutting edge, mocking and bitter.
“No. Of course not.” She could barely make out Jonas’s form in the shadows. He sat facing her, but his features were hidden by the dark.
“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that. I understand you spent a year in France. Surely you met some young men.”
The words to tell him what to do with his nasty suspicions burned on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she shook her head and replied softly, “I don’t know anyone in Paris. I couldn’t sleep. It may sound foolish, but I decided that I might not get the opportunity to see the sights, so I—”
“You don’t honestly expect me to believe you were out sight-seeing?” The shadow began to move, and Stephanie noted that his hand was massaging his thigh.
Against her will, her heart constricted at the agony she knew his leg was causing him. With everything that was in her, she yearned to ease that pain. She took a tentative step in his direction, claiming the chair across from him. In low, soft tones, she told him about the historic buildings she’d visited and the chatty taxicab driver who had given her a private tour of the older sections of Paris, along with a colorful account of his own ancestry.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she watched as the cynical quirk of his mouth gradually relaxed. “It’s really an exceptionally lovely city,” she ended by saying.
“Holmes is attracted to you.”
“Adam Holmes?” Stephanie couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and quickly dismissed the suggestion. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
“Do you find it so surprising?”
“Yes...n-no.”
“It’s only natural that he find you lovely. As you said, you’re in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. It’s springtime. You’re single, Holmes is single. What’s there to discourage a little romance?”
“I hardly know the man.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does.” Stephanie sighed. She dropped her gaze, sorry now that she’d made the effort to turn aside angry words and be friendly. The man was impossible.
“You could do worse. Adam Holmes is a bright attorney with a secure future.’’
“If I were buying stock in the man, I might be interested. But we’re talking about two people here. I find Adam Holmes friendly and knowledgeable, but I have no romantic interest in him. I’m simply not attracted to him.”
“Who does attract you?”
Stephanie swallowed uncomfortably as she battled back the instinctive response. Jonas attracted her. She was still shocked by the realization, but she wasn’t willing to hand him that weapon. “I believe my private life is none of your affair,” she informed him crisply.
“So there is someone.” Impatience surged through his clipped response.
“I didn’t say that.” Bounding to her feet, she stalked over to the window and hugged her waist. “There’s no use even trying to talk to you, is there?”
Her voice revealed her distress. “We seem incapable of maintaining even a polite conversation.”
“Does that disappoint you?”
Stephanie could feel his gaze run over her; it seemed to caress her with its intensity— and to demand an answer.
“Yes,” she admitted gently. “Very much. There’s so much locked up inside you that I don’t understand.”
“I’m not a puzzle waiting to be solved.”
“In some ways you are.”