‘Only this small case.’ Jonas bent down to pick up the compact black case that stood beside the chair he had been sitting in. ‘I’m not expecting to stay longer than a few hours,’ he added with grim determination. ‘Just until my—business with Mr Summer is completed.’
Especially if all the Summer staff turned out to be as arrogantly self-assured as this young woman! He simply wasn’t in the mood to bother dealing with such aggressive attitudes with any of the usual tact and diplomacy usually necessary in his work!
The young woman shot him a sidelong glance as they walked outside and in the direction of a small private jet that stood on the tarmac a few yards away. ‘Exactly what line of business is it that you’re in, Mr Noble?’ she voiced casually.
Too casually, Jonas decided. From the little conversation they had had so far, this woman did not strike him as the sort to indulge in politeness for its own sake—which meant there had been a reason behind her question…?
‘Nothing illegal, I can assure you,’ he returned noncommittally.
She looked down the length of her upturned nose at him. ‘You wouldn’t be on your way to see Rome if it were,’ she told him with disdainful certainty.
From the little he had read and heard of Jerome Summer, she was right; the man was a business legend in his own lifetime, a doctor’s son who had worked his way to the top in every business enterprise he had ever been involved in.
But even so, Jonas had no intention of discussing his business with the other man with this less-than-polite young woman!
‘I’m glad about that,’ he answered dismissively, grinning as he preceded her up the steps of the jet and found himself surrounded by the type of luxury he had only ever seen on celluloid before.
His own lifestyle was far from spartan, he ruefully acknowledged, but the inside of this jet was something else. It was more like a beautifully furnished sitting-room, with a comfortable cream sofa and chairs, a tan-coloured carpet on the floor, a well-equipped bar towards the cockpit. Any woodwork visible beside the doe-skin leather looked like well-polished mahogany. The only difference that he could see was that there were seat belts tucked neatly away inside the sofa and chairs.
‘The bar is well stocked with food as well as drink.’ The woman stood slightly behind him now, having secured the door behind them. ‘Please help yourself to whatever you would like, once we have taken off, though there’s a little turbulence up there today so I would advise you to wait until we’ve flown above it,’ she added dryly as she stepped past him.
Jonas raised enquiring brows. ‘And exactly what are you going to be doing while I’m helping myself to the food and drink?’ he asked.
She turned in the open doorway to the cockpit, arching mischievous brows. ‘Why, flying the plane, of course, Mr Noble,’ she replied innocently.
She was the pilot?
To say he was surprised was an understatement—he was stunned. It had never occurred to him that—
Careful, Jonas, he inwardly taunted himself, your male chauvinism is starting to show!
But it wasn’t really a question of that, he instantly defended. A male chauvinist was the last thing he was. Hell, he knew, better than most, that women were much stronger, in some senses, than men!
But this young woman had realised exactly the assumption he had made earlier in the lounge—and she had chosen to let him go on thinking it! In fact, she was still smiling her satisfaction at his mistake…
Why…?
She hadn’t even known who he was when she’d come into the lounge, it had only been the fact that he’d been the only person there that had given away his identity. What had he done in the few minutes of their acquaintance to bring about such animosity?
Nothing that he was aware of. Unless…?
‘Was Danny Summer not able to make the flight this morning?’ he enquired lightly, looking for some sort of answer there. If this woman had been asked to pilot this flight on short notice, that could account for some of her attitude. Some of it…
Her smile faded, her mouth tight now, green eyes sparkling challengingly. ‘I’m Danie Summer, Mr Noble,’ she informed him coldly. ‘Jerome Summer is my father. And, to put your mind at rest,’ she continued hardly as he simply stared at her, ‘I’m licensed to pilot all of his private aircraft for him.’
Not just a distant relative, but the man’s daughter, Jonas realised dumbfoundedly. Although how he was supposed to have realised that Danie Summer would be a woman, or indeed this particular woman, he had no idea.
He couldn’t have done, he accepted, irritable at having been disconcerted in this way. And this woman—Danie Summer—had enjoyed herself enough at his expense for one day, he decided hardly.
‘Then I would advise you to start piloting this one,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Because my time is short, and, I believe, as valuable as your father’s!’
She looked ready to pass comment on the statement, and then thought better of it, drawing in a hissing breath before going through to the cockpit, slamming the door firmly shut behind her.
Damn! Damn, damn, damn. Jonas groaned as he dropped down into one of the armchairs. He was tired, regretted ever agreeing to this appointment, especially on a Saturday, and the last thing he felt like dealing with was a woman who enjoyed nothing more than flaunting her equality, an equality that he wasn’t even aware he had questioned—apart from the assumption that she had to be the flight attendant, a nagging little voice infuriatingly reminded him!—before he had even had time to indulge in a much-needed, and so far denied, late breakfast!
‘Would you fasten your seat belt, Mr Noble?’ her voice came coolly over the internal intercom. ‘We’re about to taxi for take-off.’
Jonas did as he was asked, but it did not give him a sense of well-being to know that his life was now—literally—in the hands of Danie Summer—a woman who had shown him nothing but condescending contempt so far during their acquaintance!
CHAPTER ONE
WHO was Jonas Noble?
More to the point, what was he?
Until a couple of hours ago, Danie had believed she had a free Saturday, had planned on having lunch with her elder sister Harrie, and Harrie’s husband, Quinn McBride, before going into town to do some leisurely shopping.
But then her father had telephoned, and, despite her half-hearted objections, had managed, with his usual charming diplomacy, to talk her into flying Jonas Noble to his country estate instead.
But Rome had been less than forthcoming about his visitor, refused—again, charmingly—to be drawn as to the reason for Jonas Noble’s visit.
One thing Danie hated was a mystery. And Jonas Noble himself had been no help in explaining his reason for visiting her father’s home, either. He had proved just as closed-mouthed as her father when she had questioned him a few minutes ago, and his appearance was no help whatsoever in pinning down who or what he could be.
The man didn’t have the look of a businessman for one thing; his dark hair was a little too long. His casual clothing—black denims teamed with a black silk shirt and grey fitted jacket—exuded none of the formal efficiency that businessmen who dealt with her father liked to adopt. Her father excluded, of course. But then, Rome was way past the stage of caring what sort of image he presented—to anyone! Perhaps Jonas Noble was in that kind of position, too…?
Danie shook her head even as she went through the mechanics of flying; she had never heard of Jonas Noble before, and if his photograph had ever appeared in any of the business journals her father subscribed to, then Danie knew she would have remembered him. His was not a face