Jonas chuckled. “I’ve encountered that.”
Laughing lightly, Stephanie straightened and took her first sip of wine. It felt cool and tasted sweet, reminding her that she was hungry. “Some bread?” she asked, looking at him.
Jonas leaned forward to reach for it, and as he did, a look of pain shot across his face, widening his eyes. He sat back quickly.
“Jonas?” Concerned, Stephanie turned to him. “What is it?”
“It’ll pass in a moment.”
“What will pass?”
“The pain,” he gritted, stroking the length of his thigh in an effort to ease the agony. He closed his eyes and turned away from her.
Stephanie bent in front of him, nearly frantic. “Tell me what I can do.’’
“Nothing,” he said through clenched teeth. “Go away.”
“No,” she shouted. “I won’t leave you alone.” Because she didn’t know what else to do, her hand joined his, kneading the knotted flesh that had cramped so viciously. She could feel the muscles relax when the spasm passed.
“What happened? Did I do something?”
“No.” He moved away from her, reaching for the ropes, preparing to raise the sails.
“Talk to me, for heaven’s sake,” she cried, grabbing his forearm. “Don’t close up on me now. I care about you, Jonas, I want to help!”
His hard gaze softened, and he tenderly cupped her cheek. Relieved, Stephanie turned her face into his palm and kissed him there.
“Did I frighten you?” he asked her softly. “Only because I didn’t know what to do to help you.” She sighed, feeling weak and emotionally drained. “Does that happen often?” The thought of him enduring such pain was intolerable.
“It happens often enough to make me appreciate my cane.’’
In spite of the circumstances, Stephanie bowed her head to hide a smile.
“You find that amusing?”
Her head shot up. “No, of course not. It’s just that everyone in the office claims they know when your leg is hurting, because you’re usually in a foul mood.”
“They say that, do they?”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
Jonas shrugged. “To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought.”
Stephanie reached inside the picnic basket for the two loaves of bread. She set them out along with a plate of cheese, avoiding looking at Jonas as she asked him the question that had been on her mind since Paris. “How’d it happen?”
“My leg?” His gaze sharpened. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.” He hesitated, and when he finally spoke, Stephanie realized that relating the story to her was an indication that he trusted her. “It happened several years ago in a skiing accident. I was on the slopes with a... friend. There isn’t much to say. She got in trouble, and when I went to help her, I fell.”
“Down the slope?”
“No, off a cliff.”
“Oh, Jonas.” She felt sick at the thought of him being hurt. She closed her eyes to the mental image of him lying in some snowbank in agony, waiting for help to arrive.
“The doctors say I’m lucky to have this leg. In the beginning, I wished they had amputated it and been done with it. Now I’m more tolerant of the pain; I’ve learned to live with it.” He grew silent, and Stephanie sensed that there was a great deal more to the story that he hadn’t revealed, but she accepted what he had told her and didn’t press him further.
“Thank you, Jonas,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For bringing me with you today. For relating what must be a difficult story for you to tell. For trusting me.”
“No, Stephanie,” he whispered, lifting her mouth to his. “Thank you.”
When Jonas pulled up to the large two-story brick home overlooking Lake Superior, Stephanie’s breath caught at the sight of his magnificent family home. “Oh, Jonas,” she said, awed. “It’s beautiful.” Imposing as well, she thought, attempting to subdue her nervousness. Her hand went to her hair, and she ran her fingers through the tangled mass.
“You look fine,” Jonas told her.
She lowered her arm and rested her clenched hand in her lap. “Just you wait,” she threatened. “I’m going to introduce you to my father, and he’ll be in mud-spattered coveralls, sitting on top of a tractor. You’ll be in a five-hundred-dollar pin-striped suit, and you’ll know what it feels like to be out of your element.”
To her amazement, Jonas laughed. He parked the car at the front of the house, or perhaps the back-Stephanie couldn’t tell which—and turned off the engine. “I’ll look forward to meeting your family.”
“You will?”
He climbed out of the car and came around to her side, opening her door for her. “One thing, though.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t introduce me to your mother at Christmas. I have a heck of a time dealing with crying women.”