Gift of Gold (Gift #1)

"Okay, Verity," he said calmly, "let's have it."

She glanced up in surprise. "Have what?"

"The morning-after postmortem."

"Oh." She thought about it. "Is a postmortem necessary?"

He raised one brow. "Not as far as I'm concerned, but I thought it was de rigueur from the female point of view."

"You've had to endure a lot of postmortems?" she demanded.

"Ouch. Don't get snappish on me. The answer to your question is no, I haven't had to endure a lot of them. Not for quite a while. You want to know the truth? It's been one hell of a long time since I've been with a woman. Contrary to popular female opinion, a man does get to a stage in his life when he realizes he can abstain for extended periods of time without committing hara-kiri. Or maybe he just gets to the point where he finds it's easier to do without than go through the postmortems." He paused and then said a little roughly, "I'm sorry I was clumsy with you last night."

"You weren't clumsy," Verity snapped. "I've already told you that. I doubt if you could be clumsy if you tried. Things got a bit rushed, that's all. Everything was going beautifully until I found that earring."

"Finding it scared you, didn't it?" He stopped and pulled her into his arms beside the deserted road. The warm sun beat down on both of them as he caught her questioning face between his palms. "I'm sorry about that, too, Verity. The last thing I want to do is frighten you. Let's just give ourselves some time, okay?"

"Time?"

"Isn't that what you were asking for last night? Time to get to know each other? We've got lots of time, sweetheart. I made up my mind this morning to back off. You don't have to be afraid I'm going to show up on your doorstep every night trying to talk you back into bed. I won't rush you again."

Verity smiled tremulously. "Dad said he saw you reading Machiavelli this morning. Is this new strategy a result of a refresher course in the sneaky uses of power and politics?"

"Are you admitting I've got some power over you, sneaky or otherwise?"

"Not for a minute."

He smiled but his eyes were serious and intent. "You're important to me, Verity. I don't want to screw things up between us by pushing you too hard. Just give me a chance. I give you my word I'll take it easy for a while. I want you to trust me."

She thought about the earring that had fallen out of his pocket last night. Then she thought about all the things she had learned about men from watching her father over the years.

There were very few males in the world who would take a romantic gesture as far as Jonas had taken it when he traced her out of Mexico.

A man who followed his own whims, a man who had absorbed the spirit and philosophy of a bygone age, a man who could quote Renaissance love poetry might be one of the select few who would think it perfectly normal to follow a woman a couple of thousand miles, carrying her lost earring.

Verity touched Jonas's wrists on either side of her face. She could feel the corded strength in them, a compelling contrast to the astonishing sensitivity of his elegant hands. "You're important to me, too, Jonas. I don't know how or why, but you are very important to me."

He drew a deep breath and pulled her close for a quick, hard kiss. "Then we'll take it from there. And we'll take it slow. Everything's going to be all right, little tyrant."

Caitlin Evanger showed up for dinner that night accompanied by Tavi. They came alone. Verity wasn't surprised, after the conversation she'd had with Laura Griswald that afternoon.

"She's a fascinating woman, I'll admit," Laura had said, "but it was something of a strain trying to entertain her. Rick said he'll take a garden variety yuppie any day before he'll take another artist out to dinner. You and Caitlin seemed to hit it off well, though."

"I like her," Verity had admitted. "And I admire her tremendously. She's a woman who's made it on her own. She's talented and hardworking. And, for some reason, I feel a little sorry for her."

"I know what you mean. I think she's more than hardworking and talented," Laura said thoughtfully.

"I think she's driven. There's something strange about her, Verity."

"Maybe all true artists are driven. Maybe that's what makes them able to produce art," Verity had suggested. "Maybe that's what men such as my father and Jonas lack, a sense of drive."

"And maybe you're luckier than you know," Laura had said. "I think it would be very difficult to live with someone who was obsessed."

"You think Caitlin Evanger is obsessed with her art?"

"She's obsessed with something. I can see it in her eyes. Oops, there's the other line. I've got to run.

See you later, Verity."

Verity had hung up and sat for a few minutes thinking of Caitlin Evanger's eyes. Laura had a point.

There was something unsettling about Caitlin's compelling gaze. More ghosts. But that knowledge only made Verity feel a greater sense of compassion.

Caitlin and Tavi both ordered the fresh pea soup with mint and the vegetable pilaf. Caitlin selected a bottle of wine, and Emerson, who was helping out as a waiter, served it with a flourish. Caitlin nodded austerely to him when he finally poured but she did not seem overly impressed by the dramatics.

"Jesus," Emerson complained as he came back to the kitchen. "Talk about the original iceberg. Brrr."

Jonas's mouth twisted wryly. "Better you than me. I had to put up with her last night."

"Cut it out, both of you," Verity ordered. "You just don't understand her, that's all."

"Yeah?" Her father gave her a sour look. "Well, it's your turn. She's asking for you."

Verity smiled loftily. "She probably wants to tell me how much she enjoyed the pilaf."

"I wouldn't count on it," Jonas cautioned. "She probably wants to tell you she's going to report you to the health authorities because she found a fly in her soup."

"Professional restaurateurs do not appreciate that sort of low humor, Jonas." Verity moved to stride past him into the dining room, aware that Jonas and her father were exchanging grins over her head. The male-bonding bit was getting a bit thick, she decided.

But she should have expected Jonas and her father to get along well. They were, after all, two of a kind.

"How was everything, Caitlin?" Verity asked as she came to a halt beside the table. A quick glance showed that both women had eaten most of their meal. A reassuring sign. As usual when anyone showed obvious evidence of having enjoyed her cooking, Verity was pleased.