Authors: Catherine George
Thanks to Rufus and Susannah, thought Jo in secret amusement. 'So do you, Linus.'
From then on it was easy, as though the twelve-year gap in their friendship had never existed, though Jo laughed Linus to scorn when he swore he'd never forgotten her.
'Pull the other one! I've grown up a bit from the
naïve
little maiden you knew,' she said, smiling. 'I actually believed you'd sweep me off to Cambridge with you and live happily ever after.'
'Is that what you expected?' he said in astonishment. 'It never occurred to me.'
'No, I know very well it didn't, you
rotter
.' She smiled at him, pulling a face. 'But I'd better watch my Ps and Qs or you'll refuse to publish my novel.'
'No chance of that,' he assured her. 'Miles has already accepted it. My job is merely to help you cut and polish it. Don't worry—I'm good,' he assured her.
Jo had no doubt of it. Linus had been intellectually the most impressive man she'd ever met. Until Rufus Grierson.
It was a busy, productive day, with a delicious lunch at a fashionable restaurant, where the chef was a well- known television personality and came out of the kitchen to chat with Linus and his guest. Jo returned to Pennington that evening in a euphoric daze, clutching a manuscript annotated with suggestions on how to upgrade her original novel into the best-seller Miles Hay—and Linus—thought it was certain to be once she'd worked a little on it.
'How did it go?' said Rufus, when he met her at the station.
Jo grinned at him, eyes sparkling. 'I don't know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels. I've got a fair bit of revision to do on the manuscript, but nothing really fundamental. I'll give you all the details over dinner—not that I'm very hungry. I had rather a sumptuous lunch.'
Rufus
bent to kiss her cheek. 'Let me order something in.'
'No need. I made a casserole yesterday. It just needs heating up. I promise I'll give you a blow-by-blow description of my day as we eat it, but at the moment all I can think of is a hot bath!'
They were sitting at the table in the kitchen Jo loved so much before she told Rufus the most amazing part of the day. While she'd enjoyed her bath Rufus had showered and changed into well-worn cords and a heavy sweater, and minus the dark circles under his eyes, with hair gleaming like newly polished silver under the central kitchen light, he looked formidably attractive.
Jo, her designer finery exchanged for a scarlet sweater and black jeans, stole a look at her husband as she served him with a generous portion of beef casseroled in a spiced wine sauce. How had she ever thought Linus Cole so irresistible? she thought in wonder. Linus' fair good looks were rather florid these days, and suffered badly in comparison with the lean planes of Rufus' face and the flat, skier's muscles of his tall body.
'I'm waiting,' said Rufus impatiently. 'Come out of your daydream and tell me what happened.'
Jo pulled herself together and launched into an account of her day, rueful about the amount of revision needed on the novel, but excited over the compliments about her writing. She gave Rufus a blow-by- blow description, but kept the
pièce de résistance
to the last.
'Miles Hay was ill with flu,' she said in conclusion, and grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. 'I was handed over to one of the other editors, and to my amazement it was Linus Cole—a man I used to know in college!'
Rufus' face took on the deadpan expression that Jo had learned to dread. 'Linus Cole,' he said slowly, eyes narrowed. 'The name rings a bell. If my memory serves me correctly you knew him
very
well. Wasn't he the object of your teenage passion?'
Jo
stared
at him in astonishment. 'Good heavens, Rufus, how on earth did you remember that?'
He shrugged, his eyes inscrutable. 'Claire was voluble on the subject.'
'How very boring for you,' said Jo, and jumped up. 'Would you like some cheese?'
'No, it wasn't boring, and no, I don't want any cheese.' Rufus caught her wrist, forcing her to look at him. 'Just for the record, Claire never bored me when she talked about you. She told me you were crazy about this Linus Cole of yours—'
'He's not mine,' she retorted, trying to pull away, but Rufus held her fast.
'But you wanted him to be!'
Jo looked down at his fingers on her wrist, and he released it, but kept hold of her hand, smoothing his thumb over the red marks he'd left on her skin. 'I was only eighteen, Rufus,' she said quietly. 'He was a postgraduate and a fair bit older than me. The males in my life up to that point had been my father and the boys at his school. Where men were concerned I was straight out of the egg. I was flattered when he fancied me. I was the envy of all my friends. Of course I was crazy about him.'
'Is he the reason why you sent the book to Diadem?' he demanded, deadpan no longer.
'No, he's not!' Jo wrenched her hand away and picked up their dinner plates. 'I merely did my homework. I sent my book to the publisher most likely to accept the kind of story I've written. I had no idea Linus worked for Diadem until today.'
Rufus eyed her in such blatant disbelief that Jo cleared away at top speed, deflated like a pricked balloon. When Rufus took the coffee-tray into the sitting room afterwards Jo was tempted to leave him alone with it. But the thought of returning to polite hostilities was so unbearable that she settled in her usual corner of the sofa to pour out.
'I would be unnatural,' said Rufus conversationally as he accepted his cup, 'if I had no misgivings at all on the subject, Jo.'
'What do you mean—misgivings?' asked Jo, frowning.
'Unusual though our marriage may be, Jocasta, I dislike the idea of my wife working in close conjunction with a man who was once her lover.'
Her eyes glittered with astonishment. 'Are you saying you're
jealous,
Rufus?'
He smiled sardonically. 'Is that so impossible to believe?'
'Yes,' she said baldly. 'It is. You and I don't have that kind of relationship.'
Rufus shrugged his broad shoulders. 'Whatever
kind
of relationship it is, Jo, it doesn't rule out jealousy on my part. I admit it's a new emotion for me. One you're never likely to experience where I'm concerned, of course.'
Jo drank down her coffee, got to her feet and locked glittering eyes with his. 'Mainly because it's pointless. The only woman I need to be jealous of is dead, Rufus. Goodnight.'
It was deeply satisfying to sweep out of a room with a good exit line, but it was no help in getting to sleep. Jo spent most of the night tossing and turning, drinking tea at one stage, trying to read, but sleep was a long time in coming. And, having lain awake until the late grey dawn, Jo overslept. She got up to find the house empty and a note waiting for her on the kitchen table.
'You were asleep when I looked in. Don't work too hard. See you tonight. R.'
Not a note to tie up in pink ribbon, thought Jo morosely, and, after phone calls to her mother, Elizabeth and Susannah to report on her trip, made a start on the revisions Linus had mapped out with ' her. When Rufus came home he behaved as though their argument of the night before had never happened, and Jo co-operated, relieved. But after dinner, while they were watching a documentary on television, Rufus got up to answer the telephone, spoke briefly, handed the receiver over to her and strode from the room, his back more eloquent with disapproval than his face.
'Linus here, Jo. Sorry to interrupt your evening. How are the revisions going? Miles was on my case today, asking how soon you're likely to finish it.'
Jo reported on her progress, w
inning
extravagant praise. 'Another week or so and I might well have cracked it. But I haven't come to the tricky bit yet—'
'Good, because I've thought of a new angle on the love affair. I'll play about with it a bit more tonight, then I'll ring you tomorrow.'
When Rufus returned, a glass of Scotch in his hand, one look at his face decided Jo against telling him the reason for Linus' call. This was unfair, she thought resentfully, staring at the television screen. Rufus had no right to behave like a possessive husband where she was concerned. Not when he was still grieving for Claire.
They watched the documentary to the end in silence. When it was over Rufus switched off the set and turned to her. 'Well? What did he want?'
Jo's eyes narrowed dangerously. 'If you mean Linus, he wanted to check my progress on the revisions. Miles Hay is breathing down his neck about it.'
'I trust Cole doesn't intend breathing down yours,' said Rufus, with a precision which drew Jo's attention to his glass.
'How many of those have you had?' she demanded.
Rufus gave her a hostile look. 'Unless I'm driving you in the car, my alcohol intake is nothing to do with you, little wife.'
Only Rufus could make the word 'wife' sound like an insult, thought Jo bitterly. 'How very true,' she said disdainfully, and got up. 'I'm going to bed. Goodnight.'
'Not so fast.' Rufus leapt to his feet, barring her way, his eyes gleaming with something Jo didn't care for at all. 'You haven't kissed me goodnight. Even a marriage like ours allows a chaste peck before bedtime.'
'You're
in a
foul mood tonight,' she said crossly. She reached up to kiss him on the cheek, but Rufus caught her in his arms and kissed her mouth, frustrating her attempts to push him away. His lips were cold from the ice in his glass, but his tongue was hot and conquering and Jo felt a streak of heat flash through her veins before Rufus released her so suddenly that she staggered.
'Go to bed,' he said harshly, and bent to pick up his glass. He toasted her mockingly. 'To married bliss, Jocasta.'
'You're a barrister, Rufus. If you don't like our marriage you know exactly how to end it,' she flung at him, and marched from the room, back straight and head high.
Next morning Jo took so long in the bathroom that Rufus was gone by the time she went downstairs, and this time there was no message on the kitchen table.
Jo took refuge in work, submerging herself in the alterations which, in some cases, were so much harder to get on screen than the original story. And because there was no Dolly that day to provide lunch Jo didn't bother with any and surfaced a little after two to the sound of the doorbell. She went downstairs irritably, flipping her braid over her shoulder, then stared in astonishment at the sight of Linus Cole on her doorstep. Or, more to the point, Rufus' doorstep, she thought with misgiving.
'I thought
I
'd surprise you. Had lunch on the train, of a sort, so I thought we could do some work together this afternoon.' Linus beamed at her, gave her a hug and a kiss, then held her away to look at her. 'You look about sixteen like that.'
Since Jo was wearing jeans and an elderly navy sweater and hadn't bothered with make-up that day, she felt irritated by the remark rather than flattered. 'You should have phoned, Linus. And don't tell me there isn't a mobile phone in that briefcase.'
'There is,' he admitted, 'but
Ï
fancied surprising you.' He looked around him in admiration as she led him through the house to the kitchen. 'I say, Jo, this is some abode. Your man loaded, is he?'
'No idea,' she said curtly. 'Want some coffee?'
'Please. Let's take it into your study, and drink while we work. Must catch the four-thirty train back.'