The Second Bride (5 page)

And all the time her friendship with Claire never wavered, not even when Rufus Grierson came on the scene. Jo, who had already been a bridesmaid at her sisters' double wedding, hadn't the heart to refuse Claire the same service, and followed the radiant bride down the aisle, wearing an amber chiffon dress which cost more than all her other clothes put together. Then she'd come face to face with Rufus for the first time during all the kissing and uproar in the vestry, and felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. Having never fallen in love before—not really, she
realised
—she wasn't prepared for the shock of it, and afterwards remembered very little of Claire's wedding day, other than her certainty that Claire's marriage marked the end of their friendship.

Jo was proved wrong. Rufus soon learned that the time she spent with Jo was important to his wife, and if he had any objections, which Jo was sure he had, kept them to himself. And to make sure Claire never knew how she felt about Rufus Jo took care never to be around when he was at home, and accepted invitations to the
Griersons
' social functions only when there was a crowd of other guests. The arrangement worked surprisingly well, and, most important of all, Claire never suffered any hurt.

Jo sighed and punched her pillow for the umpteenth time. Claire's tragically early death had left such a gaping hole. Now Jo sometimes went to London to meet an old college friend, but in Pennington her social life had rather ground to a halt since she'd embarked on her novel. She gritted her teeth in the darkness. It was time she joined something. A gym or a badminton club, or maybe a writers' circle. She might even accept some of the invitations she received over the bar at the Mitre. The respectable ones, anyway. And if Rufus Grierson ever turned up on her doorstep again—which was highly unlikely- next time, however much she wanted to, she wouldn't invite him in. Not, of course, that there was the slightest danger of a reran of tonight's episode.

A shiver ran through her at the thought. Stop that, she told herself savagely. The sensible thing was to look on what happened as a learning experience. Tonight she'd discovered that her two former experiences had been no preparation at all for what happened with Rufus. And it had surprisingly little to do with expertise. Linus had prided himself on his skill, and Edward had been warm and loving, but with Rufus she'd caught fire at the first touch of his mouth, and, unless she was mistaken, it had been just the same for him. She shivered again. For someone she'd always thought of as totally self-contained, Rufus Grierson had lost his cool with a vengeance. Human after all. Yet Claire had put him on a pedestal right from the start, and spent the rest of her all too short life in trying to live up to him.

Jo got up next morning, eyeing her reflection and Rufus
Grierson's
raincoat with equal dislike. The day was bright and sunny, and a lot fresher than the sultry heat of the past few days, but Jo's mood was dark. She pulled on denim shorts and a halter top, went downstairs to collect her daily paper, and had just settled
down
with
a
cup of
tea
to read it when her phone rang.

'Jo?'

Her heart gave a sickening thump in her chest, and it took one or two deep, calming breaths before she could answer. 'Hello, Rufus. You left your raincoat here.'

'Did I?'

'Isn't that why you're ringing?'

'No, it's not.'

'Oh.'

'How are you this morning?'

Jo thrust a shaky hand through her hair. 'Tired. I didn't sleep much.'

'It may sound insensitive, but
I
slept like a log.' He paused. 'I want to see you. We should talk.'

'No!
I mean—I'd rather not, Rufus. I'll take your raincoat to the Mitre tonight. You can pick it up there—preferably during the day when I'm not around.'

The ensuing silence was so long that Jo was about to hang up when Rufus spoke again.

'I don't blame you for your attitude,' he said, sounding so detached and impersonal that Jo scowled. 'My
behaviour
was inexcusable.'

'Not really,' she responded slowly, trying to be fair. 'We were both off balance, emotionally. And I was equally to blame. I should have put up more resistance.'

'It wouldn't have made any difference,' he assured her. 'For the first time in my life I lost control, and there was nothing a pint-sized adversary like you could have done, believe me.'

'Nevertheless I'd feel a lot happier this morning if I'd done
something
,' said Jo bitterly.

'Would you be angry if I said you did something very important from my point of view?'

'It depends on what it was.'

'You gave me the best night's sleep I've had in months. You needed comfort, I provided it—then we both succumbed to the most potent form of it the male and female of the species can give each other.'

'How clinical!'

He laughed, sounding very unlike the Rufus Grierson she thought she knew. '
Clinical's
the last word to describe what happened between us last night, Jo.'

'Please—I don't want to discuss it any more,' she said, flustered. 'Thank you for ringing. I'll make sure you get your raincoat. Goodbye.' And before Rufus could say another word she put the receiver back and leaned against the wall, shaken and breathless.

Deciding her blood sugars were low, Jo made herself some coffee and toast, piled the latter with her mother's marmalade and read the
Gazette
diligently while she ate. For once, she decided afterwards, she would take a day off from her word processor. There was an end-of-term feeling about the weather. She would go up to the flat roof over her kitchen and soak up what might very well be the last really hot sunshine of the summer.

Jo's glowing tan had been acquired over several weeks of unusually consistent hot weather on her private bit of roof, which covered the kitchen and bathroom extension built onto the attic flat. She collected sunglasses, straw hat, book, a couple of
cu- shions, a
bottle of sun oil, and climbed out over her window-boxes to her private little
eyrie
. She rubbed herself with oil, let herself down on the cushions, tilted the hat over her eyes and decided she wouldn't read until later.

It was the last thought she had for some time. Jo woke with a start to find that the sun had moved a long way from its original position and she'd been asleep for the best part of three hours. Thirsty and hot, Jo passed her belongings through the window, wriggled through after them, drank down two glasses of water, then went off to read the neglected book in the bath.

The Mitre was an eighteenth-century coaching inn between Gloucester and Pennington, and had been enlarged and renovated with taste to house three bars and a separate restaurant. For the time being, while two of the staff were on holiday Jo, Phil Dexter the manager, and Tim, the young man working his way through his hotel management course, manned the bars between them in the evenings, while Phil's wife, Louise, ran the restaurant with an efficient pair of waitresses.

When Jo reported for work that evening Phil Dexter eyed her with appreciation.

'What a tan! Up on the roof again?'

'Too long this time,' she said ruefully. 'I fell asleep.'

'You look stunning,' he assured her. 'Good for trade.'

Jo usually wore something a little more festive on Saturday evenings. Her jade-green shirt looked good with the glow of her tan, and instead of weaving her newly washed hair into a French plait she'd tied it back with a green ribbon at the nape of her neck. With eyes
emphasised
more than usual and her
favourite
silver hoops in her ears, Jo felt she'd done her best.

Louise Dexter smiled as she passed on her way through the restaurant. 'You look good, Jo. Something nice happened today?' 'Not really. It must be the tan.' 'If you say so. I thought a new man, maybe.' 'No fear. Married to my computer, that's me!' They laughed together, then Jo turned her smile on her first customer. 'Good evening. What can I get you?'

A few minutes later the usual Saturday rush was in full swing.

'Phew!' muttered Jo at one stage. 'I'm glad I'm not in tomorrow.'

'Lucky old you,' said Tim enviously. 'Can you hold the fort a minute? Time I collected glasses.'

'Right.' Jo turned back to the bar to find Rufus leaning against it.

'Good evening, Jo,' he said affably. 'Scotch and soda, please.'

Jo fought her heart back from her throat to its normal location and complied without a word, hoping her tan hid the flaring
colour
in her face. To have Rufus
materialise
on the other side of the bar threw her into a confusion she hadn't felt since she was eighteen and pursued by the worldly Linus.

She took the proffered banknote and gave him the requisite change, glad she had an electronic till to do the sums. 'Two evenings on the run at the Mitre, Rufus?'

'There's no law against it, Jo.'

'No, but a touch different from your usual social round, surely?'

'You know nothing about my social life,' he said without
rancour
.

'True. But I've never seen you here before,' she pointed out. 'I thought the Chesterton would be more your kind of thing.'

'I use it to entertain clients, I grant you, but the man I brought here yesterday was very impressed with the meal. Until last night I had no idea you still worked here,' he added, and smiled. 'I'll come here more often in the future.'

Jo turned away to serve another customer, and by the time she was free again Rufus was sitting at a table, talking to a vivacious blonde with a tan almost as dark as her own. After the long, hot summer tanned faces were common, but the blonde was pretty, and very animated as she laughed with Rufus, who looked suitably attentive. As he was more than entitled to do, Jo reminded herself, furious to discover she felt jealous. But she had always known that Rufus was unlikely to remain a widower for ever, nor would generous Claire have wanted him to.

Depressed by the superiority of Claire's nature to her own, Jo was glad to be kept busy by the usual
organised
chaos of Saturday evening, and had no more opportunity for speculation on the social life of Rufus Grierson until closing time. When Phil rang the bell for 'time' Jo sighed with relief, and craned her neck to see across the still crowded room, but there was no sign of Rufus and his attractive blonde companion. They were probably on the way back to Rufus' new home right this minute, thought Jo bitterly. He had obviously decided his year of mourning was up.

Jo collected her bicycle from one of the Mitre storerooms, wheeled it across the rapidly emptying car park, and found Rufus Grierson leaning against a car under the light near the exit.

'I'll stow that in the back of the car and drive you home,' he informed her, and grasped the handlebars.

Jo, torn between delight at the sight of him and anger at his pre-emptive manner, scowled irritably. 'No, thanks. I
like
to ride home.'

'After the night you've just spent in there?' he said, shaking his head. 'Come off it, Jo. You looked fit to drop by closing time.'

'I thought you'd gone, long before then,' she said coldly.

'We moved into the other bar when Rory arrived.' He looked down into her blank face. 'My brother, Rory, in case you've forgotten. And Susannah, his bride-to-be.'

So the blonde belonged to his brother. To her shame Jo's spirits soared.

'It's taking you a long time to accept a lift,' observed Rufus.

'Mainly because I can't think why you're offering it.'

'My motives are pure, I assure you,' he said sardonically. 'You're tired; I'm here with a car.'

'But
why
are you here?'

'It seemed the best way to achieve conversation with you, Jo Fielding.' He frowned. 'I was worried about you.' 'Worried? About
me?'
Her eyes widened incredulously.

'Look,' he said impatiently. 'Couldn't we continue this in the car? The bike comes apart, I assume?'

'No need; I'll leave it here. I do sometimes, if I get a lift.'

'So I'm allowed to drive you home?'

'Yes.' Jo looked him in the eye. 'But only as far as the front gate.'

'Don't worry. All I ask is a few minutes' conversation, not a repeat of last night—ravishing experience though it was,' he added deliberately.

Jo wrenched the handlebars away from him and wheeled the bike back across the car park. When she rejoined Rufus he was standing where she'd left him, swinging car keys from a long forefinger.

'It's a different car,' commented Jo as he handed her in.

'I got rid of the other one after the funeral.'

Which put an end to conversation until they reached the quiet, tree-lined streets on the outskirts of town, when Jo broke the silence to ask what Rufus wanted to talk about.

'Is it something to do with Claire?' she asked warily.