Gift of Gold

less in stride tonight. It was almost as if Jonas had somehow shared the responsibility with her. That was a highly unusual sensation for Verity. She was accustomed to assuming all the responsibility for everything that happened in her life. Growing up as Emerson Ames’s daughter had taught Verity how to take responsibility early on. Odd that Jonas had given her the impression she could share with him some of the difficulties of running the No Bull Cafe. From every indication he was just another irresponsible drifter, like her father. A man with too much intelligence and too little personal motivation. The combination of ability and lack of drive never failed to irritate Verity. But Jonas was giving her her money’s worth and more at the No Bull, so she supposed she shouldn’t be too critical. After all, he would soon drift back out of her life the same way he had drifted into it. Men such as Jonas never hung around any one place too long.
    The realization brought an unexpected rush of unhappiness. She wondered how she could have already gotten used to having Jonas around. It was a dangerous sign.
    But then, she had known from the beginning that Jonas Quarrel was a dangerous man. She had seen the ghosts in his eyes and she had felt the pull on her senses the first time she had opened the door to him. Instead of slamming that door in his face, she had allowed him to push his way into her serene, carefully controlled life.
    A wary part of her was beginning to wonder how big a price she would pay for her recklessness. But another part of her was already wondering just how reckless she could be with Jonas Quarrel. She had never asked that question in regard to any other man; had never needed to ask it; had never wanted to ask it. A thrill of anticipation went through her at the thought. Verity fought and failed to suppress it.
    “Is this a private party or can the hired help join in?”
    Verity’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Jonas’s dark, lazy voice. She blinked and saw him lounging with the grace of a Renaissance courtier against a white stone pillar, two cans of beer cradled in one lean hand. He was wearing his usual outfit of faded jeans and work shirt, but somehow he looked very much at ease in the elegant blue and white spa room.
    It struck Verity that Jonas had a knack for looking at ease, regardless of his attire or his surroundings. That indefinable air of nonchalance had been a prime goal of every Renaissance aristocrat, she knew. Whole books had been written during those years giving instruction on how to obtain the proper aura of casual power. The man who had it was quietly telling the world that he could and would handle everything that came his way. It betokened a controlled strength that did not need to be flaunted. It was the four-hundred-year-old version of the modern desire to appear cool. She wondered if Jonas had picked up the technique through his studies of Renaissance history or if it just came naturally to him. She strongly suspected the latter.
    “The spa is officially closed at this time of night,” she said rather stiffly. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to invite him into her private bathing retreat. On the other hand, he was already in the room. “This is the women’s section, you realize.”
    “I’ll take the risk of getting caught trespassing. I’ve been thrown out of better places than this.” Jonas smiled faintly and came away from the pillar with a lithe movement. He strolled to the edge of the pool and crouched down near Verity. Then he popped the top off a can of beer and held it out to her.
    Automatically, Verity reached up to accept the beer. He was just being friendly, she thought. Perhaps he was a little lonesome. She eyed him warily and then thought about how hard Jonas had worked this weekend.
    “I’m sure Rick and Laura wouldn’t mind if you used one of the pools,” Verity said with studied politeness. “And I guess it really doesn’t matter that this is the women’s section. At this time of night, resort guests aren’t allowed down here. But Rick and Laura have always allowed me to use the place after hours.”
    Jonas glanced around at the half-dozen pools in the tiled room. “I’ll use your pool,” he announced. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Then he rose and tugged off his low boots. His hands dropped to the buttons of his jeans.
    Verity took a much larger swallow of the beer than she had intended. She choked as she looked up at