To Become A Bride

‘Is something funny?’ the woman prompted sharply.

‘Not at all,’ Jonas drawled dismissively, swinging long legs from over the arm of his chair to the floor before straightening in his seat.

‘Then I take it you are Mr Noble?’ the woman repeated abruptly.

He looked around the luxurious but otherwise deserted private lounge before glancing back up at the young woman with mocking brown eyes. ‘I would think that’s a pretty sure bet,’ he finally drawled caustically; he didn’t suffer fools any more gladly than this young woman appeared to!

Anger flared briefly in those dark green eyes, but was quickly brought back under control. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee—’ she looked down pointedly at the empty cup on the table in front of him ‘—your flight is ready to leave any time.’

He wasn’t sure he was going to be ready, in the full sense of the word, any time today. Despite the pint of strong coffee he had consumed since his arrival fifteen minutes ago! It had been a long night, involving no sleep, and flying off to God-knew-where, to meet a man he didn’t even know, was not high on his list of priorities at this particular moment.

But he had agreed—under pressure!—to today’s meeting yesterday when he’d received the telephone call from Jerome Summer, and he was a man of his word. So, despite the change of circumstances which meant he hadn’t actually been to bed yet, he had duly presented himself at this private lounge situated within the much larger complex of the airport. But that didn’t mean he had to like it!

He stood up, flexing tired muscles. ‘That’s some uniform you have there,’ he murmured derisively. If he had expected to be pampered by a sexy flight attendant on this short, but, his host considered, necessary flight, then he was obviously in for a disappointment!

‘Uniform?’ the woman repeated abruptly, looking down frowningly at her dark clothing. ‘These are my own clothes, Mr Noble,’ she told him coldly.

Obviously Jerome Summer ran a relaxed ship, Jonas acknowledged. It was none of his business how the other man dealt with his staff, but Jonas’s own experience had taught him that familiarity bred contempt; become too relaxed with someone who worked for you, and you were heading for disaster. His own secretary, Dorothy, was prime proof of that!

At almost fifty, over ten years his senior, Dorothy had taken on a motherly role in his life. And like most mothers with a grown-up son, she treated him with bullying affection.

However, this young woman didn’t quite fit into that category! Jerome Summer was in his early fifties, and the young lady was probably only in her late twenties. Which begged the question, what role did she have in Jerome Summer’s life that led to such familiarity…?

‘I’ll have to mention to Jerome that a flight attendant in a short skirt and silky blouse is much more conducive to comfortable travel,’ Jonas said silkily.

Dark brows rose over icy green eyes as his meaning obviously became clear. ‘For whom, Mr Noble?’

‘Why, me, of course.’ He grinned, some of the strong coffee at last seeming to kick into gear as he felt a rush of adrenaline. It would only be a temporary thing, of course, he acknowledged ruefully, but hopefully it would be long enough to get him through his meeting. ‘And if, as you say, the flight is ready, where is Mr Summer?’ he added frowningly. ‘Or is he already on the plane?’

‘Rome is at the estate, of course,’ the young woman replied caustically. ‘What would be the point of flying you there if Rome were already in town?’ she scorned.

‘Rome’, was it? Jonas acknowledged sceptically. Obviously very familiar! ‘I meant Danny Summer, of course,’ he corrected briskly. ‘I was told he would be meeting me here. He’s some sort of relative, I gather?’ he added hardly as the annoyance seemed to be increasing in the young woman’s expression.

The mischievously slanting mouth curved. ‘You gather correctly, Mr Noble,’ the woman drawled. ‘Do you have any luggage?’

‘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?