Conveniently His Omnibus

‘Why don’t you go upstairs and go back to sleep?’ she suggested to Jon, noting his bleary eyes and haggard appearance.

‘Mmm...sounds like a good idea.’

She watched him go, conscious of an urge to rush after him and go with him to fuss over him as though he were genuinely her husband.

‘Poor Uncle Jon, he looks really poorly,’ Alex commented sympathetically, finishing her breakfast.

* * *

SUSAN SAUNDERS proved willing to babysit, and having arranged to pick her up at eight Sophy went upstairs to study the contents of her wardrobe. She had attended several business cocktail parties with Jon before and knew what to expect. As his secretary she had always worn something businesslike and formal but now she was his wife. In the end she selected a simple cream silk shift-style dress, which had been an impulse buy in London and which had been so hideously expensive she had been too guilty to wear it.

Holding it up against herself she saw how the cream silk emphasised her tan and the silky richness of her hair. The demure front was offset by the deep vee back; the dress would be pleasantly cool on what she suspected was going to be an oppressively hot evening.

Her mind made up, she went back downstairs, not giving in to the temptation to walk into Jon’s room and see if he was awake. Sooner or later they were going to have to talk; she was going to have to explain to him that the reason she had fled so abruptly had not been because she was shocked by his disclosures or found them distasteful. Even now she found it hard to grasp that he had made them, that he had told her that he wanted her.

He came downstairs just after lunch, looking worn and tired. ‘God, I feel dreadful,’ he told her wryly. ‘It’s a long, long time since I’ve been in the state I was in last night.’ He sat down at the kitchen table and leaned his head back. ‘I have the most God-awful headache.’

Silently Sophy produced some Alka Seltzer, watching the face he pulled as he drank it. ‘Filthy stuff,’ was his only comment before he closed his eyes again.

‘Jon, about yesterday.’ It had to be said before she lost her courage but the look in his eyes as he opened them immediately silenced her.

‘Not now, Sophy,’ he said wearily. ‘Just leave it, will you? I think I’d better get some fresh air...’

He didn’t want her to go with him, Sophy could tell that. Was he regretting saying to her what he had? Idly her eyes registered his progress to the door, her senses wondering how she could ever have been ignorant of his masculine appeal; how she could ever have been blind enough to think of him as sexless...? A quiver of heat darted through her as her glance rested briefly on the taut outline of his buttocks and then slithered down the length of his legs. Suddenly it hurt to even breathe; she was terrified he would turn round and see what was in her eyes. She reached clumsily for her mug of coffee, her whole body shaking. So this was desire, this fierce, hot need that pushed aside everything that stood in its path; that demanded and aroused. Jon wanted her, he had said so and it ought to be the simplest thing in the world simply to go to him and tell him that she wanted him too, only it wasn’t.

* * *

‘COME AND SHOW me when you’ve got your dress on.’ Alex was in the sitting room with Susan and David, and Sophy smiled and nodded. Jon was already upstairs getting ready but she had only just arrived back with Susan. According to Jon they were supposed to be at his friend’s for nine o’clock. She had showered and put on her makeup before going for Susan but she had not changed into her silk dress.

She had decided to drive the BMW tonight—the first time she had taken it out with a passenger, although Jon was the most uncritical of men when it came to being driven.

She almost collided with him at the top of the stairs, his hands coming out to steady her, touching her briefly, making heat sheet through her body.

How on earth had she ever considered him unattractive, she wondered achingly. His hair was still slightly damp and curled into his neck, the white silk shirt he was wearing clinging to his skin. The black pants weren’t ones she could ever remember seeing before and then she realised it was part of a dinner suit and that he was carrying the jacket—a new dinner suit, she was sure. He was even wearing a bow tie, and as he moved past her she caught an elusive hint of some masculine cologne, faintly old-fashioned and citrusy.