Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [97]
Jane strode forward to stand directly in front of him, her hands planted belligerently on her hips. “Mr. Dominic, I'm very tired. I haven't had any dinner yet, and I have a wretched sunburn that's not improving my disposition. You know very well that I have nothing to wear, and I would appreciate your not making cheap jokes at my expense.”
He arched an eyebrow quizzically. Then his eyes narrowed and the laughter was abruptly banished from his face. “I'm a bit tired myself, redhead,” he answered softly. “I've been working on this awful script all day trying to draft some cohesion into the greatest hodgepodge of symbolistic tripe it's ever been my misfortune to read. I'm not sunburned for the simple reason that I've not stuck my head out of this room all day. I will grant, however, that I do have one advantage over you other than my sartorial elegance. I have eaten dinner.”
He rose with swift grace and, taking her by the wrist, pulled her behind him as he strode with long steps to a beautifully carved mahogany bar. Pushing her firmly onto a cushioned stool covered in antique-gold velvet, he went behind the bar and said briskly, “We can remedy that if you'll settle for sandwiches and coffee. Will ham do?”
She nodded dazedly. “That… that will be fine,” she stammered, as she watched him kneel before the copper-toned portable refrigerator under the bar and withdraw an oblong plastic container that opened to reveal pink ham sliced paper-thin. He brought another container from a side cabinet that contained deliciously crisp hard rolls. He built her a sandwich with quick practiced movements, adding tomato, lettuce, and mayonnaise at her request. He poured her a cup of coffee from a thermos jug at the end of the bar and set the lot before her with a little flourish.
“Anything else?” he asked blandly. “I believe there's some caviar and pâté de foie gras in the refrigerator.”
“No, thank you,” Jane said, making a face. “That sounds perfectly dreadful. I've never understood how anyone could really enjoy caviar.”
“Neither have I,” he confessed, his dark eyes twinkling. “But my chef is an incurable snob and insists that no self-respecting multimillionaire should have a refrigerator unstocked with caviar.”
Dominic poured himself a cup of coffee, and, leaning his elbows on the bar, watched her wolf down the sandwich with every evidence of enjoyment. “You were hungry,” he commented. “What caused you to miss dinner?”
Jane looked up to meet his eyes before she replied noncommittally, “I was busy.” She was not about to complain to Mr. Dominic about her treatment at his captain's hands.
He touched the tip of her sunburnt nose with a light finger. “I see Marc's found you something to do outside,” he said casually. “That should be a welcome change after burrowing in college classrooms all winter.”
Jane's mouth curved in a wry smile. It was obvious from his remark that Jake Dominic was ignorant of the precise nature of the duties Captain Benjamin had assigned her. Well, why should he be apprised of such pedestrian arrangements? It was the duty of the captain and the crew to see that everything ran with clockwork efficiency on the Sea Breeze so that its owner would not suffer a moment of discomfort or displeasure.
“Yes, it's quite a change,” she agreed dryly. She took a sip of the excellent coffee. “Why are you working? I thought you were supposed to be on vacation.”
“I want to get these script changes out of the way and get it back to the producer,” he said, lifting his cup to his lips. “It should only take a few days, and then I'll be free to relax.”
Jane looked thoughtfully into the restless dark eyes. Did he ever really relax? she wondered idly. She'd seen no evidence of it in the brief time she had been acquainted with him. He seemed charged with a leashed vitality and a crackling virility that should have been disconcerting to a girl of her limited experience of men. Oddly enough, this was not the case. Perhaps it