Gift of Fire

bowls and reached for the poker to steady herself.
    “I’ll take care of the dishes. I’m a pro, remember?” Jonas said. He frowned in concern as she started to hop toward the kitchen, the dishes wobbling in her hands. “Sit down, honey.”
    “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this hobbling business down to a fine art. I think I’ll soak my foot in one of the spa pools later today.”
    “Verity...”
    She stopped to drop a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for agreeing to take the job, Jonas. I just know it’s going to be the beginning of a great future.”
    “I didn’t say I’d take the job. I just agreed to talk to the Warwicks,” he reminded her, knowing that he was fighting a useless battle.
    “You’ll like them,” she assured him breezily as she resumed her awkward progress toward the kitchen. “Elyssa’s a little odd, but Doug’s nice and normal. He’s…
Oops!
”
    Jonas saw the stack of bowls sway like a highrise building in an earthquake. He watched in fascination as they slid slowly off the empty toast plate and started the short drop to the hardwood floor. Casually reaching out, he caught the bowls in one hand, and placed them carefully on the table.
    Verity sighed. “How do you do it, Jonas?”
    “Do what?”
    “You’re so coordinated. I don’t think you even realize how smooth and controlled you are when you move. It’s amazing.”
    He grinned lecherously. “Is that a roundabout way of telling me I’m good in bed?”
    She sniffed disapprovingly. “Your male arrogance is showing.”
    “I could show you something even more male if you’ll put down that plate.”
    “Some of us have work to do. And this is your lucky day. You are among the chosen. You’re actually being offered paid employment in your field of expertise. When you finish your coffee I’ll call the resort and make an appointment with the Warwicks.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
    Jonas settled down to linger over his coffee. He sat gazing out the window into the cold, frosty woods and listened to the pleasant clatter of dishes behind him in the warm kitchen.
    It was good to be home, he thought. Good to have a passionate little redhead waiting for him. Good to share a bed and breakfast with her. Good to have his books crammed into her bookcases. Good to feel he had a place where he belonged. He liked the thought of spending the rest of his life like this. He wondered how Verity would respond to that idea.
    She never said much about their future together, and lately that had begun to bother him. Women were supposed to instinctively seek a sense of permanence in a relationship. They were supposed to want rings, and vows, and all the other symbolic bonds that spelled marriage and commitment.
    But Verity had never once brought up the subject of marriage. That seemed strange, now that he considered it. Jonas frowned.
    Last night she had accused him of acting like an enraged, no, an
irate
husband. Jonas let the word
husband
trickle through his mind again. He wondered if Verity ever visualized herself as a wife.
    Probably not, he told himself realistically. Emerson had given his daughter a highly unorthodox upbringing. His main goal as a father, he’d explained, had been to teach Verity how to take care of herself in a rough world. The result had been a smart, self-reliant, fiery-tempered young woman who had managed to do just fine without a man in her life—until Jonas had arrived on the scene.
    Jonas didn’t kid himself about how she had managed to remain single for so long. She had driven off every eligible male with a tongue that had been honed to a fine, sharp edge. She was as good with her tongue as he was with his knife, he reflected wryly. The lady didn’t hesitate to use her mouth. Jonas grinned at the thought, finished his coffee, and rose to his feet.
    Verity stuck her head around the kitchen door. “You might put on a tie,” she suggested brightly.
    “Wouldn’t want the Warwicks to think I’m trying to impress them, now would we?”
    “Jonas,” she said firmly, “a tie would be appropriate. You’re supposed to be a professional.”
    He walked over to her, bent his head, and kissed her roughly on the mouth. “Like I said, lady, don’t press your luck.”
     
    Verity held her breath during the formal introductions but after a few minutes she relaxed. It was obvious that Jonas was going to behave himself. After Doug Warwick realized that Jonas was apparently far more civilized in the light