‘No, but he does get angry,’ David told her calmly, ‘Not many people know about it, though, because he just speaks very quietly.’
He was right, Sophy reflected. Jon did go very quiet when he was angry, and somehow that controlled softness in his voice was even more alarming than if he had bellowed at full volume.
‘I’m glad Uncle Jon married you and not Louise,’ Alex confided happily to Sophy, leaning her head affectionately against the latter’s knee.
‘Don’t be silly,’ David told his sister scornfully. ‘Uncle Jon would never have married Louise.’
‘No, he was frightened of her,’ Alex confided naively. ‘He always used to go...er...er...a lot more when she was there.’
If it was possible David looked even more scornful. ‘That wasn’t because he was frightened of her, silly,’ he told Alex. ‘It was because...’ He went bright red and closed his mouth, an expression crossing his face that somehow reminded Sophy of Jon.
‘Because what, David?’ she pressed, as confused herself as Alex plainly was.
He wouldn’t look at her, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the worn carpet, eventually muttering, ‘Oh, nothing...’
Wise enough not to press him, Sophy was nevertheless still bewildered. As she got them ready for bed she told herself that it could be nothing more than a little boy’s natural desire to protect those closest to him, and David adored his uncle, there was no doubt about that.
CHAPTER FOUR
ON FRIDAY MORNING, after dropping the children off at school, Sophy made her way to Cambridge to do the weekly food shopping. Exhausted by the heat and press of people in the shops she was only too pleased to get back inside her car. The air inside was stifling, and winding down the windows, she drove home.
She was expecting that Jon would ring sometime during the course of the day to tell her what flight he would be on. She had bought smoked salmon for dinner tomorrow because she knew he liked it, and there was a ham in the fridge which she had baked especially the day before. When she got back she would make up his bed...and perhaps pick some flowers for the sitting room.
Abruptly she shook her head. Their marriage was a business relationship, she reminded herself severely. Jon would be understandably embarrassed if he came home to find she had made a lot of special arrangements to welcome him. But even while she acknowledged the sense of her thinking there was a niggling sense of disappointment as though she had been denied some small pleasure she had been anticipating.
Although it was only eleven o’clock, the heat when she stopped the car on the drive, was enervating. Listlessly she ferried the shopping into the kitchen and put it all away. The cotton T-shirt she was wearing was sticking uncomfortably to her skin, and there were grubby marks on her matching cotton denim skirt where she had touched it with her hands. The pretty, pale blue outfit, so crisp and neat when she went out, now looked tired and limp. She had rolled her hair up into a knot to keep it out of the way and the back of her neck ached from the weight of it and the shopping.
Tiredly she made her way upstairs, going first to the airing cupboard and collecting fresh bedding for Jon’s room.
The door was slightly open and with her arms full she had to lean against it to open it wider to get in.
‘What...?’
She heard the startled exclamation as she stepped into the room and shocked by the total unexpectedness of it she stood stock still, her eyes flying wide open as she clutched the bedding to her.
‘Jon?’ Her voice sounded rusty and thick, totally unfamiliar...as unfamiliar to her as the figure standing beside the bed, she thought wildly, swallowing the lump of tension which seemed to have invaded her throat, totally unable to withdraw her stunned gaze from the body of the man standing in front of her, completely naked apart from the brief white towel wrapped round his hips.
Perhaps it was the whiteness of the towel that made Jon’s skin look so brown, she thought hazily, silently observing the healthy sheen on skin that adhered firmly to male muscles. His hair was wet, which must explain why in its damp tousled state and the way it clung to his scalp it should so suddenly make her aware of the faintly arrogant masculinity of Jon’s features. The blue eyes were narrowed and watchful but curiously brilliant and sharp for someone who needed such strong glasses, the dark hair clinging to his head mirrored in colour and texture by that which ran diagonally and vertically along the male planes of his body.
The most curious sensation was washing over her. She felt so weak that her legs barely seemed able to support her. With a small moan she tottered to the bed, sinking down onto it still clutching the bedding.
‘Sophy! Are you all right?’
So it was Jon! No mistaking that pleasantly mild voice.
‘No. Yes...it’s the heat,’ she managed disjointedly, suddenly uncomfortably aware that the heat of which she spoke came from inside her body and not from outside. Anxiously she clutched the linen even closer to her chest, shamingly aware of the sudden tension in her nipples. For goodness’ sake, she chided herself mentally, pull yourself together. She had seen men without their shirts on before—without even as much as Jon was wearing. At least, she had seen Chris... But his body had been nothing like Jon’s, she realised weakly. Nothing like as tautly masculine. She had never for instance possessed the slightest desire to reach out and touch Chris, to see if his skin felt as silkily warm as it looked.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice sounded breathless and too high. She could see Jon frowning as she managed to drag her bemused gaze from his body to his face. Thank God he was short-sighted, she thought wryly, feeling her face flame for what she might have betrayed to him if he hadn’t been.
‘I...er...got an earlier flight then I intended. Sorry if I shocked you.’
Shocked her? There was nothing but mild vagueness in his voice; nothing to make her feel that he didn’t just mean his apology in the sense of having shocked her by his unexpected arrival, and yet... She glanced at him covertly and told herself she was imagining things in thinking that he was ascribing her shock as being due to his semi-nude state.
‘Here, let me take those from you.’ He stepped towards her and instantly she was aware of the clean, soapy smell of his body. Instinctively she shrank back, still clutching the bedding, all too uncomfortably aware that her body was still betrayingly aroused by the sight of him but he was already reaching for the linen in her arms and somehow Sophy found herself relinquishing it. As he moved back, his hand brushed against the curve of her breast and immediately Sophy jumped.
‘Sorry about that... I can hardly see a damn thing without my glasses.’ The words were muffled as he turned away from her.
His back was as brown and well-muscled as his chest, Sophy thought, admiring it and his legs, long and roughened by dark hairs. As she stood up and caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror she decided it was just as well Jon was short-sighted. Where her T-shirt clung to the contours of her breasts it clearly revealed their aroused contours and the firm peaks of her nipples.
‘I’ll, er... I’ll come back and make the bed later,’ she managed to say as she hurried out of the room and into the protection of her own.
It was only later when she had managed to restore a little of her normal calm, with a cool shower and a change of clothes that she realised she had said nothing to Jon about the changes she had made in his wardrobe.
She found him downstairs making some coffee, and what was more he was wearing the sand-coloured stonewashed denims she had bought for him in Marks & Spencer.
‘Something seems to have happened to my clothes,’ he remarked equably when she walked in. ‘I don’t suppose you happen to know anything about it.’
‘Er...they’re at the cleaners. I thought...that is we thought...well, with the heatwave continuing, I had to get the children some lighter things and...’ Her voice petered out uncomfortably as she realised just exactly what she had done.
‘You were thoughtful enough to get some for me at the same time,’ Jon concluded gently. ‘That was very wifely of you.’
‘Well, if you don’t like them, you don’t have to...that is...’ Realising that she was gabbling, Sophy forced herself to stop. What was happening to her? Anyone would think she was frightened of Jon when in actual fact he was the mildest and gentlest man alive.
‘I thought those awful hairy suits and ancient cords were too heavy for this weather,’ she told him simply, ‘but if you don’t like what I got for you they can easily be changed.’
‘You’re not trying to change me into a male model, by any chance?’
A smile lurked at the corner of his mouth and taking heart from it, Sophy shook her head, adding impishly, ‘Some hope, you’re far too big and muscular.’
She wasn’t sure which of them looked the more surprised. A deep mortifying burn of colour spread over her skin but fortunately Jon seemed to be oblivious to it. He had turned away from her to watch the coffee filtering. He was probably as embarrassed as she was herself, she thought wryly, and wondered why she should find that thought so dismal. What did she want? For Jon to do something macho like take her in his arms and let her see how well her description matched reality? Jon wasn’t like that. He wasn’t interested in her, or any other woman, sexually. She knew that.