‘I’ll have to mention to Jerome that a flight attendant in a short skirt and silky blouse is much more conducive to comfortable travel,’ Jonas said silkily.
Dark brows rose over icy green eyes as his meaning obviously became clear. ‘For whom, Mr Noble?’
‘Why, me, of course.’ He grinned, some of the strong coffee at last seeming to kick into gear as he felt a rush of adrenaline. It would only be a temporary thing, of course, he acknowledged ruefully, but hopefully it would be long enough to get him through his meeting. ‘And if, as you say, the flight is ready, where is Mr Summer?’ he added frowningly. ‘Or is he already on the plane?’
‘Rome is at the estate, of course,’ the young woman replied caustically. ‘What would be the point of flying you there if Rome were already in town?’ she scorned.
‘Rome’, was it? Jonas acknowledged sceptically. Obviously very familiar! ‘I meant Danny Summer, of course,’ he corrected briskly. ‘I was told he would be meeting me here. He’s some sort of relative, I gather?’ he added hardly as the annoyance seemed to be increasing in the young woman’s expression.
The mischievously slanting mouth curved. ‘You gather correctly, Mr Noble,’ the woman drawled. ‘Do you have any luggage?’
‘Only this small case.’ Jonas bent down to pick up the compact black case that stood beside the chair he had been sitting in. ‘I’m not expecting to stay longer than a few hours,’ he added with grim determination. ‘Just until my—business with Mr Summer is completed.’
Especially if all the Summer staff turned out to be as arrogantly self-assured as this young woman! He simply wasn’t in the mood to bother dealing with such aggressive attitudes with any of the usual tact and diplomacy usually necessary in his work!
The young woman shot him a sidelong glance as they walked outside and in the direction of a small private jet that stood on the tarmac a few yards away. ‘Exactly what line of business is it that you’re in, Mr Noble?’ she voiced casually.
Too casually, Jonas decided. From the little conversation they had had so far, this woman did not strike him as the sort to indulge in politeness for its own sake—which meant there had been a reason behind her question…?
‘Nothing illegal, I can assure you,’ he returned noncommittally.
She looked down the length of her upturned nose at him. ‘You wouldn’t be on your way to see Rome if it were,’ she told him with disdainful certainty.
From the little he had read and heard of Jerome Summer, she was right; the man was a business legend in his own lifetime, a doctor’s son who had worked his way to the top in every business enterprise he had ever been involved in.
But even so, Jonas had no intention of discussing his business with the other man with this less-than-polite young woman!
‘I’m glad about that,’ he answered dismissively, grinning as he preceded her up the steps of the jet and found himself surrounded by the type of luxury he had only ever seen on celluloid before.
His own lifestyle was far from spartan, he ruefully acknowledged, but the inside of this jet was something else. It was more like a beautifully furnished sitting-room, with a comfortable cream sofa and chairs, a tan-coloured carpet on the floor, a well-equipped bar towards the cockpit. Any woodwork visible beside the doe-skin leather looked like well-polished mahogany. The only difference that he could see was that there were seat belts tucked neatly away inside the sofa and chairs.
‘The bar is well stocked with food as well as drink.’ The woman stood slightly behind him now, having secured the door behind them. ‘Please help yourself to whatever you would like, once we have taken off, though there’s a little turbulence up there today so I would advise you to wait until we’ve flown above it,’ she added dryly as she stepped past him.
Jonas raised enquiring brows. ‘And exactly what are you going to be doing while I’m helping myself to the food and drink?’ he asked.
She turned in the open doorway to the cockpit, arching mischievous brows. ‘Why, flying the plane, of course, Mr Noble,’ she replied innocently.
She was the pilot?
To say he was surprised was an understatement—he was stunned. It had never occurred to him that—
Careful, Jonas, he inwardly taunted himself, your male chauvinism is starting to show!
But it wasn’t really a question of that, he instantly defended. A male chauvinist was the last thing he was. Hell, he knew, better than most, that women were much stronger, in some senses, than men!
But this young woman had realised exactly the assumption he had made earlier in the lounge—and she had chosen to let him go on thinking it! In fact, she was still smiling her satisfaction at his mistake…
Why…?
She hadn’t even known who he was when she’d come into the lounge, it had only been the fact that he’d been the only person there that had given away his identity. What had he done in the few minutes of their acquaintance to bring about such animosity?
Nothing that he was aware of. Unless…?
‘Was Danny Summer not able to make the flight this morning?’ he enquired lightly, looking for some sort of answer there. If this woman had been asked to pilot this flight on short notice, that could account for some of her attitude. Some of it…
Her smile faded, her mouth tight now, green eyes sparkling challengingly. ‘I’m Danie Summer, Mr Noble,’ she informed him coldly. ‘Jerome Summer is my father. And, to put your mind at rest,’ she continued hardly as he simply stared at her, ‘I’m licensed to pilot all of his private aircraft for him.’
Not just a distant relative, but the man’s daughter, Jonas realised dumbfoundedly. Although how he was supposed to have realised that Danie Summer would be a woman, or indeed this particular woman, he had no idea.
He couldn’t have done, he accepted, irritable at having been disconcerted in this way. And this woman—Danie Summer—had enjoyed herself enough at his expense for one day, he decided hardly.
‘Then I would advise you to start piloting this one,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Because my time is short, and, I believe, as valuable as your father’s!’
She looked ready to pass comment on the statement, and then thought better of it, drawing in a hissing breath before going through to the cockpit, slamming the door firmly shut behind her.
Damn! Damn, damn, damn. Jonas groaned as he dropped down into one of the armchairs. He was tired, regretted ever agreeing to this appointment, especially on a Saturday, and the last thing he felt like dealing with was a woman who enjoyed nothing more than flaunting her equality, an equality that he wasn’t even aware he had questioned—apart from the assumption that she had to be the flight attendant, a nagging little voice infuriatingly reminded him!—before he had even had time to indulge in a much-needed, and so far denied, late breakfast!
‘Would you fasten your seat belt, Mr Noble?’ her voice came coolly over the internal intercom. ‘We’re about to taxi for take-off.’
Jonas did as he was asked, but it did not give him a sense of well-being to know that his life was
