JADE STAR by Catherine Coulter

Saint could think of nothing to say.

‘She wants to marry me, you know, and since I’m as elusive as hell, I suppose she thought she would compromise me.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told her no, and that this evening I was

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going to spend the night making love to a woman who expected nothing from me. For a while there, I thought she would expire with hysterics.’

Saint shook his head. ‘Thomas, the gentlemen of San Francisco salute you!’ Thomas sat forward in his chair, his glass

between his knees. ‘Bunker wants me to come to work for him in the foundry. I’m not certain that’s what I want.’

‘Doing what?’

Thomas shrugged. ‘Probably a glorified office boy to start with. Somehow, working for my father-in-law doesn’t seem too smart a thing to do.’

‘No, I would agree.’

‘I want to be a doctor, Saint.’

Saint leaned back, his arms behind his head. ‘I think,’ he said finally, ‘that you should determine if that is really what you want by working with me. I could teach you a goodly amount. If you decide in, say, six months that you wish to continue, I think you should go back East, to Boston or New York, for your formal training.’

They continued discussing the pros and cons until Lydia arrived. Ten minutes later, they heard Jules’s voice. Thomas watched Saint’s face harden, his eyes glitter.

‘Well,’Thomas said, rising quickly. ‘I think

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I’ll be going out now. I’ve got to spend some time with Morton David, an interesting man. Of all things, he’s an actor, Shakespeare and all that.’ Thomas paused a moment in the doorway and said quietly, ‘Good luck, Saint.’

Saint heard him greet his sister with an affectionate ‘You look like hell, Jules. Go comb your hair, you look a fright.’

Jules knew Michael was in the parlor, but she didn’t want to see him. She went upstairs and stayed there until after Lydia had left. She heard him call to her.

She eased into her chair at the foot of the dining table. He handed her the several dishes, saying nothing.

‘I trust you had an interesting day,’ Saint said finally, laying down his fork.

‘No, not really,’ Jules said.

‘Oh? You found Byrony boring?’

‘No, she was quite charming. She wanted me to ask you if she could come by tomorrow.5

He nodded. ‘Certainly.’

He wasn’t angry and it made her very wary. ‘Michael,’ she said, taking the offensive, ‘I am bored! I do nothing except sit around and brush my hair!’

‘Fine, I’ll dismiss Lydia and you can take over her duties.’

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That shut her up, Saint thought, but only for a moment.

She thrust her chin upward. ‘So, if I can’t be anything else, you’ll allow me to be your housekeeper!’

‘What else do you want to be?’

‘Would you pay me what you pay Lydia?’ Elusive chit, he thought. ‘Probably not

– you haven’t her experience or skill.’

He sat back and watched her, knowing he’d spiked her guns.

‘You think I’m afraid to work?’

‘Jules, I don’t think you’re afraid of a damned thing, more’s the pity.’

Yes, she wanted to tell him, she was afraid of more things than she could count. Why wasn’t he angry with her, yelling at her, for going to see Maggie?

She blurted out her last thought, ‘Aren’t you angry with me?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’

But he didn’t care enough to yell at her, she thought. She didn’t know what to say. She watched him rise. He’d opened his shirt at the neck and she coud see the silken tufts of hair on his chest. He was so handsome, she thought, her eyes going down his body hungrily. But he didn’t love her, he didn’t even like her, not anymore. She gave him nothing but trouble.

‘I’m going out,’ Saint said. ‘Incidentally, Jules,’ he added, halting a moment in the doorway, ‘Thackery will be here.’

‘Ah yes, my jailer. Give my regards to Mrs. Branigan.’

He paused and said, his voice hard, ‘You will cease using Jane as a bone of contention between us. She is a fine woman. I admire her and respect her, but that is all.’

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