On cue, Jonas appeared in the office doorway, dark brows forming a solid, disapproving line across his blade of a nose. Verity glanced up and fousd her senses awash in memories of foaming water and a wet, warm kiss that had been more intimate than any kiss she had ever known.
"Goodbye, Laura. I'll talk to you later." She dropped the phone back into the cradle. "Good morning, Jonas," she said very brightly.
"What the hell are you doing inside on your day off? Let's go down to the lake. There's some leftover curried lentil loaf in the refrigerator. Not the same thing as a real meat loaf, but if I put enough mayonnaise on the bread 1 might be able to disguise the stuff. I walked into town and picked up some beer an hour ago. We're all set. "
Verity swung around in her chair so suddenly that she bumped one jeaned leg against the desk. "Ouch, dammit." She winced, rubbing her knee. "I thought you were going to settle in to the cabin today."
Jonas shrugged in his casual, curiously graceful way. "I've already done that. I didn't have all that much to unpack. The main problem was finding room on the bookshelves for a few of my things. Your dad apparently has what is politely called eclectic tastes. He's got everything from Nancy Drew to Shakespeare stashed in that cabin."
Verity laughed. "That's the library he used to educate me. The only thing Dad never throws away is a book. Everything else in his life is disposable. When I settled here in Sequence Springs, he boxed up all the books he'd been lugging around for years and shipped them to me to store."
Jonas grinned. "I saw a copy of Castiglione's Courtier on one shelf. Did you ever read it?"
"Years ago, when I had a certain interest in the Renaissance," Verity admitted cautiously. "Why do you ask?"
Jonas's grin turned wicked. "I happened to be thinking about a particular passage from it last night, and when I spotted it on the shelf this morning I thought about it a little bit more."
"What part?" Verity demanded suspiciously, aware that she was enjoying the teasing quality in his voice.
"The part where one of the courtiers—Gaspare, I think— remarks that the way to win the fortress of a woman's mind and soul is to take possession of her body."
Verity smiled loftily. "I believe the response to that stupid remark was that if that were true, there would be no unhappy married women. Every woman would be madly in love with the man who had the right to make love to her, namely her husband. But since there are plenty of unhappily married women in the world, I think we can safely assume Gaspare was full of chicken manure."
Jonas folded his arms and studied her for a few seconds. "You must have had more than a fleeting interest in the Renaissance if you remember that sort of detail from a book you read years ago. Let's go pack lunch and head for the lake, boss lady. I'm hungry."
Verity thought about telling him one more time not to call her "boss lady" but decided to tackle that at a later date. The idea of a picnic was too compelling to resist. It had been a long time since she'd been on a picnic.
They packed a lunch and Jonas put a couple of cans of cold beer into the basket. Then he led Verity through the trees to the water's edge. He made a production out of picking the perfect spot among the pines before he allowed her to settle down on the blanket he had brought along. Verity was surprised to find herself very hungry.
Jonas lounged alongside her on the old blanket, sipping beer and eating sandwiches while they engaged in easy, totally nonthreatening conversation. Verity relaxed in the warm sunlight and gave herself over to enjoying the unusual experience.
She liked listening to Jonas talk, she realized. His voice was curiously attractive. She let him finish an amusing story about tending bar in some far-off corner of the world and then she said between bites of her sandwich, "I'll bet you were a popular lecturer when you taught at Vincent."
He blinked with deceptive laziness. "What makes you say that?"
She shrugged and realized she was blushing. "You have a good voice," she mumbled. "There's something very, uh, well..."
"Something very what?" he prodded.
"Something compelling about it. I mean, it's easy to listen to you." She stuffed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth before she was tempted to try her foot. She didn't know why she was so embarrassed.
Probably because she found his voice more than compelling. She found it distinctly sensual. It touched her in an almost physical way and she responded to it.
"Thank you, Verity," Jonas said very gently as he leaned back on his elbows and watched her through narrowed eyes. "I shall treasure the compliment."
She was even more embarrassed and covered it up by fishing around inside the basket for a pickle.
"Anytime," she said with false heartiness. "I always believe in giving credit where it's due."
He smiled faintly and she knew he was aware of her discomfort. His voice dropped to a low, sexy purr as he quoted softly:
"My lady scatters precious gifts with a casual, careless hand.
She knows not how much I value the fragile gems she chooses to bestow.
Greedily, I snatch all that I can take;
a smile of silver, a glance of crystal.
But still I hunger for more priceless things;
Treasures that can't be bought or sold.
For I will not rest until I claim her body and her heart;
Gifts of white hot fire and rarest gold."
Verity's head came up quickly and she found herself staring into his brilliant eyes. She knew in that moment that she was being wooed. She had never been caught in a web of seduction before, but it was shatteringly evident that she was rapidly becoming entangled in it now.
For a moment neither spoke. They simply looked at each other and Verity became aware of a vibrant truth. Jonas was the one who could give a gift of gold. It was there in his eyes, waiting for her. And as for fire, well, she might be inexperienced, but she was woman enough to know he offered that, too. It would be a blazing, masculine fire that would bum her to the depths of her soul, branding her forever.
She shook her head a little to free herself of the dizzying images. Frantically she sought for a way out of the web that was tightening around her.
"Would you like another pickle?" she asked brightly and slapped it into his outstretched hand. She ignored the amusement in his eyes and began a running commentary on the economy and social aspects of Sequence Springs.
But even as she pushed the conversation back into safer channels Verity knew she was running from the stark truth that awaited her. She was fascinated with Jonas Quarrel. She wanted him. It was the first time in her life she had ever known the full, blazing power of this kind of attraction and it both frightened and excited her.