“No.”
I turn back to him. “What?”
“No. Which is what I’ve been saying since you first contacted me. I’ve been down that road before and I have no interest working on a residential house with people who have more money than sense.”
I lift my brows. “You got rich doing exactly that.”
“Yeah, and I don’t do it anymore.” He takes a drink of his tea. “Your father had a list of architects frothing at the mouth to work with him before he retired. Use one of them.”
I wish that I could. “The Hendersons don’t want one of them. They want you.”
“Too fucking bad.”
“Jonas, they’re dream clients. They’re so starstruck by the thought of you designing their home that they’ll take your input as the word of god. It won’t be like it was before.” Before when a series of tumultuous accounts drove him to break his business partnership with my father. Or at least that’s my father’s side of things. No matter what else is true, it didn’t affect their friendship any. “And it’s only one job. I’m not looking for a partner.”
“Sounds like you need one if you’re wasting this much energy chasing down someone who doesn’t want to be chased.”
The sentence stings more than it has right to. I can’t help holding it up against that night at the Christmas party. He didn’t want to be chased then, either. I swallow hard. I won’t beg. No matter what else is true, I have a tiny sliver of pride left and it’s the only thing getting me through the challenges of the last six months. I lift my chin. “Is that your final answer?”
“Yes.” He says it firmly, a little bite to the word. “I’m not doing it.”
I take a careful breath and slowly exhale. Okay, another setback. That’s fine. I can figure out a different way forward. I’ll find another architect with similar flare and convince the Hendersons that they’re the best bet. It will take some doing, but I’ll figure it out. I smooth back my hair. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be going now.”
I manage it one step before a horrible sound blares through the room. It takes my startled brain a few seconds to register what it is—an emergency broadcast. Jonas digs his phone out of his pocket and glares at it. Frustration writes itself across his features, quickly followed by resignation. “Yeah, you won’t be going anywhere. The storm’s bad enough that they’ve stopped the ferries until it passes. They won’t start up until morning, and that’s only if the storm front moves faster than expected, which it’s not likely to.”
There’s a rushing sound in my ears. I stare at him, waiting for his words to make sense. “I’m sorry, what?”
Jonas sighs. “You’re stuck here, Blake.”
3
“What do you mean I’m stuck here?
“Exactly what I said. Unless you plan on sleeping in your car.”
I wet my lips, my thoughts still frantically circling. I can’t stay in this house with Jonas. I can’t. When it comes to him, I’ve already humiliated myself enough to last a lifetime. I can’t stay here. Not when I’m mostly naked and he looks really good, but he’s been very clear that he’s not interested in me. I should have enough restraint to take the rejection to heart, but there’s no reason to spend more time with him than strictly necessary. “I’ll get a hotel.”
Another of those exasperated sighs. “You can try, but it’s tourist season and even if they have a room, it’s a waste of money and time. You can stay here.”
“You only have one bed,” I blurt.
“Yeah, I noticed.” He scrubs his hand over his face. I must imagine the way his gaze rakes my body, because the next moment he’s back to normal. “You take the bed. The couch will work well enough for one night.”
“Jonas, I can’t just take your bed.”
“You can and you will. Even if you can find a room to rent, any kind of traveling isn’t safe in this kind of storm. You’ll drive right off the road and no one will find you for hours—possibly days. You’re staying here and that’s final.”
I’ve seen the stubborn look on his face before, six years ago in my father’s study when he oh so carefully rejected my advance. I didn’t prevail then, and something tells me I’m not going to prevail now, either. Just like I won’t when it comes to recruiting him for the Henderson account. Frustration boils up within me. “Fine. I’ll stay here tonight—on one condition.”
“I’m not negotiating.”
My frustration gains teeth and claws. “Aren’t you?” I head for the door. I realize how ridiculous this is, how he won this argument the moment I changed out of my wet clothes and into his T-shirt. Leaving means abandoning my favorite pair of heels. It doesn’t matter. I’m angry and I’m proving a point.
Jonas doesn’t grab me. He doesn’t try to get between me and the door. He just brings me short with two words. “Stop, Blake.”
My body responds to his command even as my brain rails at the fact that he holds even this little amount of power over me. I thought I exorcised it long ago. I turn to face him. “I’ll stay, but we’re going to talk about it.”
“I already said—”
I wave that away. “Not about the deal.” Reckless. I am being so reckless. If there’s a chance to convince him to take this job, I shouldn’t be throwing it away by bringing up the one thing guaranteed to make working together awkward. But then, I’ve always had a bit of an impulse control issue and I can only take so much bullshit before it raises its ugly head and gets me into trouble. “About that night.”
Jonas’s gaze flares hot before he shuts it down. And he does shut down his initial reaction; I’m watching him closely enough not to miss it this time. “There’s nothing to talk about. You were a child and it shouldn’t have gotten as far as it did.”
I blink. A child. That’s how he saw me? No wonder he broke that kiss, patted me on the head, and sent me on my way. “It was six years ago, not sixteen. I was twenty-two. Hardly a child.”
“You were too young.”
But I’m already shaking my head. “You were forty, not seventy. This argument doesn’t make sense.”
I don’t realize Jonas is moving until he’s right in front of me. I take a step back without meaning to, a pure reflex, and he follows me. So I do it again. We engage in this strange little chase until my legs hit the couch and I lose my balance, landing on my ass on the cushion. Jonas follows me down, bracing his hands on the back of the couch and towering over me. “Listen closely, Blake because I’m only going to say this once.”
My smirk is pure bravado. “Your high and mighty grandfather sage tone is really impressive.”
He gives me a long look and I have the sneaking suspicion that he’d like nothing more than to put me over his knee and paddle my ass for mouthing off. The very thought sends a bolt of heat directly to my core. We didn’t get very long alone on that night, barely enough time for a short conversation and an illicit kiss. Not nearly long enough for me to realize I might get a perverse enjoyment out of pushing Jonas’s buttons.