Authors: Catherine George
Since Jo's bedroom was her study, she had no alternative but to take Linus there.
'Fantastic bed,' he commented.
'Right, then,' she said briskly, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the lack of male occupation in the room, 'let's get on with it, Linus. But next time, ring first.'
When Rufus came home that night Jo, deliberately, was still in her jeans, face as nature made it and her hair straggling out in fronds from its braid. She'd been tempted to keep quiet about Linus Cole's unexpected visit, but in the end decided on her usual policy of honesty. But she wanted Rufus to see her as Linus had.
'Had a hard day?' he said in surprise as he came into the kitchen.
Normally Jo stopped work well in time to change and make herself as attractive as she possibly could, whether they were in a period of truce or not. Rufus looked effortlessly elegant whatever he wore, and Jo felt on her mettle at least to try to live up to him.
Tonight
Rufus'
surprise at her dishevelment was justified.
'I certainly have,' Jo said with feeling as she stirred the sauce she was making. 'I'm afraid the
cuisine
isn't very
haute
tonight. I got held up.' She turned to face him, a light of battle in her unembellished eyes. 'Linus Cole came here after lunch. Unexpectedly, before you jump to conclusions. He spent two hours here working on the book with me, then caught the train back to London.'
Rufus put down his briefcase, his face no more readable than it ever was. 'And was it a fruitful session?'
'I don't know,' she said frowning. 'He's got this different angle he thinks works better than mine.'
'It's your book. If you don't agree don't do it,' he advised, and leaned over her shoulder. 'What are we having?'
The subject of Linus, Jo
realised
with relief, was closed. Rufus said no more about him that evening, nor, indeed, about anything personal at all. And his goodnight kiss, thoughts of which had hung over her like the sword of Damocles all evening, was his usual salute on the cheek instead of the passionate, masterful embrace of the night before. Jo went disappointed to bed, but slept almost the moment her head touched the pillow, waking only when a knock on the door heralded Rufus' entry next morning to say goodbye.
'I'll be late tonight,' he informed her. 'Don't cook for me. I'm dining with clients. But cook for yourself,' Rufus added sternly, and to Jo's surprise he bent to
kiss her cheek, trailed a long finger across it and strolled from the room.
Jo worked like a maniac, sometimes discarding the revisions she made, at other times pleased with her progress. Rufus was deeply disapproving when he discovered she intended to work right through the weekend.
'You look shattered, Jo—take a break. The forecast's good. We could drive somewhere for lunch on Sunday.'
Sorely tempted, Jo forced herself to turn the offer down. 'Just this one weekend. Then I can relax.'
He shrugged indifferently. 'As you wish.'
It wasn't at all what Jo wished, but now that the bit was between her teeth she was determined to finish the revisions by the following weekend as Miles Hay wanted. By Monday morning she felt she was winning. She was glued to her screen, concentrating fiercely, when the doorbell rang just after midday.
Dolly knocked on her door and popped her head round. 'There's a gentleman by the name of Cole downstairs, dear.'
Jo tore at her hair in despair. 'Oh,
no,
Dolly! Just as I was getting on so well.'
'He said he was your editor so I put him in the sitting room,' said Dolly apologetically. 'I was just going to bring you some soup and a sandwich. Shall I do some for
Mr
Cole, too?'
'Dolly, you're an angel!' Jo tidied her hair and slapped on some lipstick, then went down to greet Linus. 'You promised to ring first,' she said accusingly, and dodged the kiss he aimed at her mouth.
'You'd have told me to get lost,' he said, unabashed, 'and I've thought of a brilliant new ending—'
'Stop right there,' said Jo imperiously. 'I've gone with some of your suggestions because I can see how much they improve the story. But the ending is mine. I want it exactly the way it is. And if that means you don't want to publish it I'll take it somewhere else—'
'Hey! Slow down.' Linus gave her a conciliating hug.
'Cut it out, Linus,' she said irritably, and pushed him away. 'My wonderful Mrs Dalton has made us a snack lunch. We'll eat while we work.'
Linus accepted with enthusiasm. She wrangled with him as she'd never have done with the unknown Miles Hay, but in the end, with input from each of them, Jo felt satisfied that the finished result was good, and exactly as she wanted it, with her own original ending that Linus had the grace to admit worked better than his own idea.
'Right,' she said briskly. 'Give me a day or two to go through it all again to see the pieces fit, then I'll mail it to you.'
Linus stood up, stretching. 'We're a good team, Jo. When do I get the next one?'
Secretly delighted that Diadem wanted a follow-up, Jo shrugged nonchalantly. 'I've already started on it.'
'Good girl.' Linus stood looking at her for a moment, an oddly avuncular expression on his face. 'Who'd have thought it! Little Jo.'
Jo gave him a push. 'Don't get mushy, Linus. You'll miss your train.'
'True. Thank your lady for the lunch.' He threw his arms round her and kissed her affectionately.
'Am I interrupting?' enquired a cold, dispassionate voice, and Jo turned in dismay to see Rufus in the doorway.
'Not at all,' she said calmly. 'Rufus, this is my old college friend, Linus Cole. Linus, my husband, Rufus Grierson.'
The two men shook hands, Linus in no way put out at being interrupted mid-kiss with the wife of a man who was all too obviously enraged at the discovery. He congratulated Rufus on his clever wife, asked Jo to get the finished manuscript to him as soon as possible, then went downstairs with Rufus as a taxi arrived to take Linus to the station. Before the door had closed behind him Jo went into her room and shut the door, feeling sick with apprehension.
Jo took the coward's way out, and postponed the hour of confrontation by taking a bath, and afterwards dressed in something rather more prepossessing than the jogging pants and fleece-lined sweatshirt worn during the session with Linus. She went down to the kitchen to start preparing dinner at last, her jagged nerves well hidden behind the well- groomed mask she presented to her husband every night when he came home.
She turned from the pan she was stirring as Rufus strolled into the kitchen a few minutes later. 'You were home early today,' she said, carrying the war into the enemy's camp.
'Yes,' he said grimly. 'I
apologise
for my inopportune appearance.'
'No need,' she returned. 'Linus was just going.'
'Having received what he came for, no doubt! ' His eyes
smouldered
into hers in a way she'd never seen before.
'Well, yes.' Jo swallowed. 'We more or less finished the revisions.'
'When? Before he took you to bed or afterwards?'
'What?' She stared at him, incensed. 'Are you mad?'
'I must be.' Rufus glared back, his eyes murderous. 'For starters, I assumed you worked down here, not in your bedroom. It's hardly surprising I felt "mad" when I found another man in a place where I am never invited.' He seized her by the wrist. 'But let's stick to the facts, Jocasta; I'm neither mad nor blind. I saw the bed. You hadn't bothered to straighten it. But then, I'm not usually home so early, am I? You thought you had plenty of time to conceal the evidence.'
Jo's eyes flashed. 'The bed was untidy,' she returned hotly, 'because we'd been sorting out pages of manuscript all over it. Linus and I are old friends, remember, so he kissed me goodbye as he was leaving. But we did
not
go to bed. Let me go,' she snapped. 'You're bruising my arm.'
Rufus dropped her wrist as though it burnt him. 'Are you asking me to believe that Cole spent several hours with you in your bedroom and never tried to make love to you?'
'Of course I am, because it's the truth. Why is it so hard to believe, Rufus?'
'Because he's a man, you idiot girl,
and
he was once your lover!'
They glared at each other, breathing hard, as though they were making love rather than war, then Jo's full mouth curved in a cold, mirthless little smile.
'It's amazing that a man who's supposed to be such a brilliant lawyer can be so utterly mistaken. Believe me, Rufus, I have a very good reason for not letting Linus Cole make love to me. Come on, you're the legal man. You should be asking what it is.'
'Is it another man?' he demanded, his eyes glittering darkly with a look that Jo had no idea how to interpret.
But then, when had she ever known what Rufus thought, or felt, except when it came to Claire? 'No way,' she said scornfully.
All the heat and anger drained from Rufus' face, leaving his eyes blank, as though a light had switched off behind them. 'No more guessing games, Jo. If you want to give your reasons, fine. If not, perhaps you'll excuse me. I'm going out.'
'Where?' she said involuntarily.
'I've no idea.' He gave her the smile she loathed. 'Does it matter?'
Jo breathed in deeply, and laid down the wooden spoon to prevent herself from hitting him with it. 'Before you go do me the courtesy of listening while I explain why even if I wanted to, which I don't, I could never let Linus—or any other man—make love to me. It's all your fault,' she added, eyes kindling.
Rufus eyed her narrowly. 'My fault?'
'Oh, yes.' Jo folded her arms across her chest. 'I've never thought of myself as particularly vain, but I really don't fancy exposing myself to the kind of rejection you dished out at Christmas, Rufus
Grierson
. You made it clear you require your women flawless. For all I know the test of your sex feel the same way.'
Dark
colour
surged in Rufus' face, then receded so suddenly that his eyes burned darkly against his pallor. 'Flawless,' he repeated harshly. 'Is that what you thought?' He moved towards her, and Jo retreated, suddenly breathless.
'My scar,' she said unevenly. 'You were appalled by it.'
'I don't deny it,' he retorted, moving so close that Jo was backed up against a cupboard with nowhere to go. 'It did appall me. I hadn't seen it before, remember. It horrified me. But not because it was a
flaw,
woman.' He seized her by the shoulders, his eyes boring down into hers. 'That night, as you well know, I was desperate to make love to you. Then I saw the scar and I couldn't.'
'Because it revolted you,' Jo said dully.
He shook her a little. 'No. Not that. Think, darling.'
Darling? 'What must I think about?' she said wildly.
Rufus pulled her into his arms and held her close against his chest, his heart thudding against hers. 'I made you pregnant the first time I made love to you. Then I made love to you a second time and you were rushed to hospital and almost died. I swore I'd never touch you again unless I made certain you wouldn't suffer for it. But at Christmas when I held you in my arms I forgot everything except how much I loved and wanted you—'
'Loved?' said Jo, leaning back to look up at him.