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Hall and here fool you—normally none of us step foot in either of these houses.’

      ‘Why on earth not?’ She frowned her curiosity.

      It was a curiosity Jordan had no intention of satisfying. St Claire House, like Mulberry Hall, was part of the Duke of Stourbridge’s estate, and they were all only here now because their mother, still the Duchess of Stourbridge despite the divorce, always stayed at St Claire House on the rare occasions she came down to London.

      ‘We’re all too busy doing other things,’ Jordan dismissed evasively as he stepped out into the thick carpeted hallway on the third floor. ‘I’ll make you comfortable in my suite before I go and see my mother.’

      ‘Your…suite?’ Stephanie echoed hesitantly.

      ‘All the family have their own suite of rooms here.’ Jordan gave a brief smile at she hung back uncertainly. ‘Parker will bring you tea in my private sitting room. I expect the bedroom adjoining that has been prepared for your use. Is that going to be a problem?’

      Stephanie had no idea—was it? It felt a little too intimate to have him next door. Entirely too close to him for comfort, in fact!

      ‘I would be quite happy with something a little less…grand.’ She frowned her discomfort.

      ‘There isn’t anything less grand,’ Jordan informed her dryly as he opened a door to the left of the hallway. ‘Come on, Stephanie,’ he encouraged impatiently. ‘I’d like to see you settled before I go and visit my mother.’

      She was being ridiculous, Stephanie knew as she followed Jordan reluctantly. It just felt so very strange to be here with him and his family, in this grand house they rarely visited, but which was still run by what was no doubt an army of servants.

      Who lived like this nowadays?

      Only the very rich and the titled. Although not even too many titled families managed to live in such luxury nowadays, either, years of savage inheritance taxes having depleted their ranks and fortunes drastically.

      The sitting-room, decorated in subtle tones of brown and cream, and furnished with heavy dark furniture, was very much in keeping with the luxury of the rest of this London townhouse.

      ‘There are some books over there if you feel like reading.’ Jordan indicated the shelves at the back of the room. ‘My bedroom and bathroom are through there.’ He pointed to a door to the right. ‘And your own bedroom is through there.’ He pointed to another door to the left.

      Far, far too close for comfort, she recognised with a pained wince.

      ‘Cheer up, Stephanie,’ Jordan drawled as he saw the expression on her face. ‘With any luck we can both be out of here in a matter of days.’

      Days?

      It was the nights that bothered her!

      How was she supposed to sleep here when she knew that Jordan’s bedroom was only feet away? Knew that the two of them were cosily ensconced in the complete privacy of his suite?

      ‘Stop looking so worried.’ Jordan leant his cane against the plush brown sofa before slowly crossing the room until he stood only inches away from her. He placed a gentle hand beneath her chin and raised her face up to his. ‘I’ll try to ensure this is as short a stay as possible.’

      It had already been too long as far as Stephanie was concerned!

      Jordan grimaced. ‘Wish me luck, hmm? I’m about to put on the performance of my life,’ he added ruefully.

      Stephanie felt slightly breathless as she looked up searchingly into that rakishly handsome face, his close proximity having once again unnerved her. ‘You want your mother to believe you’re already completely recovered…’ she realised slowly.

      ‘I’m going to try to convince her of that, yes.’ He shrugged. ‘It’ll be one less thing for her to worry about.’

      ‘You aren’t going to do anything that could hinder your progress, are you?’

      Jordan sighed. ‘Ever the physiotherapist, Stephanie?’

      ‘That’s probably because I am a physiotherapist!’ she defended hotly.

      Although her traitorous body certainly had other ideas. Every part of her—every muscle, sinew and nerve-ending—was totally aware of Jordan as a man rather than as a patient. Of that hand still cupping her chin. Of the warmth of Jordan’s body as he stood so close to her. Of the sensuality in his warm amber-coloured gaze as it moved slowly across her slightly parted lips. The soft caress of his breath against her cheeks as his head began to lower towards hers…

      Stephanie stepped back abruptly as she realised Jordan intended kissing her. ‘That is definitely not a good idea,’ she stated firmly.

      Only just in time too, as a faint knock sounded on the outer door, announcing the entry of the butler with the tray of tea things Jordan had requested.

      ‘I’ll probably have lunch with my mother, but I’m sure Parker will bring you something up on a tray…’ Jordan looked expectantly at the butler as he straightened from placing the silver tray down on the low table in front of the sofa.

      ‘I would be happy to do so, Miss McKinley,’ the butler replied, before Stephanie even had chance to object to being waited on in this way.

      She looked across at Jordan. ‘That really isn’t necessary…’

      ‘Just do it, Stephanie,’ Jordan said distractedly, and he left the suite, his thoughts obviously already with his mother.

      Her own thoughts were in total disarray as Parker continued to treat her as if she were a guest, rather than just another employee, informing her that her bag had been safely delivered to the adjoining bedroom.

      Stephanie felt totally out of place in this world of wealth and privilege that Jordan and his brothers seemed to take so much for granted. She was even less happy at being here when she remembered that she would have to telephone Joey and tell her she was now back in London if her sister needed to talk to her about the divorce case…

      CHAPTER NINE

      STEPHANIE felt slightly better once she had finished drinking the pot of Earl Grey tea and eaten a couple of biscuits to settle her stomach after the helicopter flight. In fact, she felt so much better that she must have dozed off for a while, because the next thing she knew Parker had returned with her lunch tray.

      But the queasiness returned with a vengeance once Stephanie had eaten the delicious pasta dish and a bowl of fresh fruit and then dared to venture into the adjoining bedroom that Jordan had said was to be hers for the duration of her stay. It was a room dominated by a huge four-poster bed draped in the same gold brocade as the chair-covers and the curtains hanging at the long picture windows, which looked out onto the meticulously kept garden at the back of the house.

      It was undoubtedly a beautiful room. The gold carpet was thick and luxurious, the walls papered in a pale cream silk, the light wood furniture Regency style—and no doubt, as with Mulberry Hall, all genuine antiques. The equally luxurious en-suite bathroom was of cream and gold-coloured marble, with gold fixtures and several thick cream towels warming on the stand beside the slightly sunken bath.

      It was all very beautiful—and totally unsuitable for someone who was, after all, just an employee.

      Stephanie left her bag unpacked on one of the brocade-covered chairs and hastily backed out of that luxurious bedroom. As soon as Jordan returned from visiting his mother she would have to tell him that she couldn’t stay here. That if he was really serious about wanting her professional help then she would prefer to go back to her own flat and simply visit him here every day.

      In the meantime, grounding herself by chatting to Joey sounded like an excellent idea…

      ‘Has Jordan Simpson tried to seduce you into his bed yet?’ Joey questioned avidly, as soon as Stephanie’s

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