by Maggie Cox
‘Maybe I’ll save the dunking for another day,’ he commented huskily, then abruptly returned her to her feet and the freezing water that lapped the shore.
Murmuring, ‘In your dreams …’ to hide her embarrassment, Sophia directed her full attention back to her son. ‘Come on, Charlie, let’s run towards the waves and run back again before they reach us!’
By the time she and Charlie ran back onto the shore, a few minutes later, Jarrett was waiting with the generous sized bathtowel she’d brought from home. Catching her eye, he smiled as if to reassure her he held no grudges about her splashing him with ice-cold seawater. Then he unhesitatingly wrapped the towel around Charlie, as if genuinely concerned that he get warm and dry again as quickly as possible.
Sophia was certain that anyone observing them would assume that he was the boy’s father. Their colouring—apart from the eyes, of course—was practically identical. The notion gave her the strangest most unsettling pang. Jarrett was bigger, leaner and more muscular in build than her husband Tom had been … taller too. It wasn’t likely that Charlie would reach a similar height. Yet he would undoubtedly be handsome when he was grown.
Ruffling her son’s damp corkscrew curls, Jarrett stood aside so that Sophia could finish off the drying and help him get dressed. With his T-shirt and shorts on again, Charlie was eager to collect some seashells, so he skipped a little bit further on down the beach with his red bucket and spade, his mother’s clear instruction to not wander out of her sight ringing in his ears. Deliberately avoiding glancing directly at Jarrett, because his commanding masculine presence was making her feel painfully self-conscious, she lifted her long, drenched plaits off the back of her neck, arranged the towel round her shoulders and stooped to pick up the straw bag with the spare set of clothing that she’d left lying on the sand next to her sandals. Her jeans and shirt were plastered icily to her skin where Charlie had splashed her.
‘I’m going over by those rocks to change,’ she told Jarrett, finally meeting his arresting cobalt gaze. ‘Would you keep an eye on Charlie for me?’
‘No problem. I’ll go and join him to help collect seashells.’
Even though they’d spent a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon together on the beach, and at the small seaside restaurant where they’d had fish and chips, Jarrett honestly hadn’t expected Sophia to invite him in when they reached High Ridge. But fate was on his side. Charlie had fallen asleep in his car seat.
Sophia got out of the car, peered in at him, then glanced round at Jarrett with an almost apologetic shrug. ‘Would you mind carrying him into the house for me? I’ll grab our things and open the door.’
On entering the hallway, he saw the ceiling with its old-fashioned cornices was far loftier than he’d anticipated, but the overall impression Jarrett got was that the place was as dark and dingy as Miss Havisham’s decaying manor in Great Expectations. The remaining evening light that did manage to stream in through the front door’s decorated windowpanes was nowhere near illuminating enough to make the place remotely welcoming. Underfoot was an equally dingy, well-trodden maroon carpet that in his view ought to be replaced, or at least given a professional clean.
As he followed Sophia into the house, carefully transporting her still-sleeping little boy in his arms, he couldn’t help reflecting that he’d love to help restore the place to its former beauty. But even as the thought stole into his mind Jarrett’s sight was helplessly waylaid by the graceful sway of the lithe yet shapely hips of the pretty woman in front of him. Her long slim legs along with the peach-like derrière snugly enclosed in a pair of almost shabby blue jeans suspended any further reflections bar the realisation that he wanted her. From the moment he’d seen her lissome shapely figure outlined by the clinging jeans and shirt at the beach, and briefly lifted her into his arms, he’d ached with every fibre of his being to be intimate with her—and soon.
‘You can put him down on the couch,’ his lovely companion instructed him, her porcelain cheeks flushing a little as her emerald eyes warily met his.
He willingly complied—but not before thinking how much he’d love to free her beautiful chestnut hair from the plaits she’d worn all day, knowing that it would ripple down her back like a pre-Raphaelite beauty’s. Jarrett had a powerful compulsion to comb out the long silken skeins with his fingers, then gently smooth them back so that he could more closely examine the sublime contours of her lovely face.
‘I can carry him up to bed if you’d prefer?’
Sophia declined the offer. ‘He’ll be fine right here on the couch. We don’t use the bedrooms upstairs. There’s a lot of work to be done to make them anywhere near habitable, I’m afraid. Charlie and I sleep in what was once the parlour. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, got rid of the dust and cobwebs—that sort of thing. I’ve put up some new curtains and arranged our beds in there. There’s even a fireplace that we can use in the winter if need be. The house doesn’t have the luxury of central heating, and I’m sure the temperatures will be bitter by then.’
After gently pulling the colourful crocheted blanket that lay folded at the end of the antique sofa over Charlie’s sleeping form, Jarrett straightened to give her his undivided attention. ‘I don’t mean this unkindly, but did you even know what you were doing when you bought a place like this?’
Sophia dropped the straw bag she’d taken to the seaside onto a nearby Edwardian chair and folded her arms. Then she lifted her chin in a gesture that clearly illustrated her defensiveness. ‘I didn’t buy it. Do I look like the kind of person who could afford to buy a house like this?’
He shrugged. ‘What does a person who can afford to buy an expensive period property look like? If you didn’t buy it, then how did you come to be here?’ Sensing this wasn’t the kind of information she readily wanted to share, he almost held his breath as he silently willed her not to keep it a secret.
Absently freeing the two covered red bands that secured her plaits, she started to loosen her hair. Jarrett’s mouth turned helplessly dry as he watched her comb her slender fingers through it. Just as he’d imagined, the luxurious fall of rippling dark strands might have come straight out of a pre-Raphaelite painting.
‘My aunt left it to me.’
‘Mary Wingham was your aunt?’
‘My great-aunt.’
Taken aback for a moment, he rubbed a hand round his jaw. ‘Did you visit her much when she was alive?’
She looked downcast. ‘No. I didn’t. The last time I was here was when I was about twelve years old.’
‘Yet she bequeathed you this house?’
‘Yes.’
‘She must have been very fond of you.’
‘Hmm.’ The soft green eyes glimmered wryly. ‘My dad always told me she didn’t exactly like our family … although I think she secretly had a bit of a soft spot for him. Anyway, the last time I personally set eyes on her was at his funeral, and I remember her looking pretty upset. But I still don’t know why she chose to leave the place to me. Of course I’m very grateful that she did.’
‘But—’
‘I’m tired, and I really think I’ve answered enough questions for one day.’
Even though he yearned to hear more, the expression on Sophia’s face was determined enough to make Jarrett conclude he shouldn’t push his luck—and neither should he forget that for a woman who had an obvious tendency to be reclusive she had at least let her guard down enough to allow him to spend time with her and her son.
CHAPTER FOUR
TELLING herself it would be rude not to offer Jarrett a cup of tea when he’d so thoughtfully taken her and Charlie to the beach for the afternoon, Sophia fought down her wariness at his curiosity about her and led the way into the lofty-ceilinged kitchen. With its dulled terracotta tiled floor and tall curtainless windows overlooking the currently wild and untended back garden, it was hardly inviting.
Seeing the daylight was fading fast, she flicked on the light switch. But the pool of dreary yellow light emanating weakly fro
m the single bulb hovering above the scrubbed pine table in its nondescript cream shade hardly helped matters. It was hard for her not to feel painfully embarrassed that the room wasn’t more hospitable.
‘How do you take your tea?’ she asked her guest, almost flinching as his penetrating gaze interestedly examined his surroundings. There was no way they’d make a favourable comparison with his sister’s ultramodern fitted kitchen, she thought. Not unless his preference was for genteel old buildings in urgent need of a major makeover.
‘I like it strong, thanks … no sugar. What an incredible kitchen—great for a large family. Beautiful too.’
‘It certainly could be. Of course I plan to renovate it, along with the rest of the house, but I can’t afford to do it all straight away. It’s going to take an awful lot of money and time to do it justice. It’s clear that my aunt got rather frail towards the end of her life and couldn’t take care of the place like she used to. When I visited here as a child it always seemed so grand. It was like a palace, and the garden was a fairy princess’s magical kingdom.’
One corner of Jarrett’s lips hitched up into his cheek. ‘That’s a nice memory. You know, Sophia, some things are worth waiting for. With a house like this it makes good sense to take your time mulling over what you’d like to do room by room. Just do what you can when you can. One step at a time, would be my advice.’
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Making a cursory nod towards one of the straight-backed chairs round the table, Sophia was a little taken aback by Jarrett’s measured comments, but she also felt reassured that he sympathised and understood.
‘Sophia?’
‘Yes?’ Glancing round as she stood at the deep ceramic butler sink, filling the copper kettle at the single tap, she was slightly unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. He was standing behind the chair rather than sitting down, and his big hands curled round the dark wooden back as though he were indelibly stamping his presence on everything he touched … disturbingly on her senses too … whether she liked it or not.
‘You seem a little on edge,’ he observed. ‘Why don’t you try and relax?’
‘I’m afraid it’s become rather a habit … not being able to relax, I mean.’
‘Because of what happened to you before you came here?’
The sonorous chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway just then drowned out any other sound. It also gave Sophia some precious moments to collect her thoughts. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I think you know what I mean … But I’ll ask you plainly so that there’s no confusion.’
Turning off the tap, she lifted the kettle with a less than steady hand, then set it down on the wooden draining board. She turned to face him. ‘Go on, then.’
‘You told me that you were a widow. But the comment you made straight afterwards about not being sorry about it definitely suggested your marriage wasn’t a happy one. Was that the reason you came to the village and moved into your aunt’s house rather than selling it?’
‘You think I was running away from a bad marriage?’
‘I’m not suggesting that wouldn’t have been the right thing to do if you were dreadfully unhappy.’
‘Look, I want you to know that I’m not comfortable with you so freely expressing your opinions about my life, and nor am I happy about you asking all these questions. Perhaps you should respect my right to privacy a little more?’
Jarrett sucked in a breath through his teeth. ‘Maybe if you were just someone I ran into now and again—someone who meant nothing to me—then I most definitely would. But I’m sure you’ve guessed by now that I’ve become quite intrigued by you.’
His statement might have quickened Sophia’s heart if she’d been in a good place mentally and emotionally, but she knew she was far from feeling good enough about herself to accept it even for a second. The sensation of the cold ceramic sink pressing into her back added to her sense of feeling utterly chilled right then … desolate at the idea that life might never be good again, no matter how hard she prayed it would be. Now that her wonder and gratitude at her eleventh-hour reprieve of being gifted this beautiful house had started to fade a little, a sense of battle fatigue after what she’d endured had begun to seep into her bones.
‘Well, you’re wasting your time being intrigued,’ she snapped, knowing that she was only being curt because she feared him getting too close and pursuing the idea of a relationship. ‘I have nothing to offer you, Jarrett. I mean it. I really don’t … particularly friendship. I’m in no position to be a friend to anybody—even myself. If you knew my unerring ability to take wrong turns and make disastrous decisions, trust me, you’d avoid me like the plague. You’d be much better off directing your interest towards the kind of women that were at your sister’s party today … women who are completely at ease with making social small talk, who are undemanding and uncomplicated and no doubt come from the kind of comfortable world where what everything looks like is far more important than being remotely real. That way at least you’d know exactly what you’d be getting.’
Glowering, Jarrett angrily pushed away from the chair, and the ear-splitting sound of wood scraping against the red stone flags made Sophia gasp. Breathing hard, he planted himself directly in front of her. One glance up into his hot and fierce blue eyes made her head feel as if it was spinning. Above the pounding of her heart she could hardly hear her own panicked thoughts.
‘I might be materially comfortable, but I’m not superficial. Where did you get that unflattering impression from? Do you think you’re the only person who’s ever made a mistake or a disastrous decision? And, for your information, I neither want nor desire any of the women you’ve just described. They might be my sister’s friends but they’re not mine. And the fact that you’ve immediately intuited what they’re all about must surely tell you why I wouldn’t be interested in them.’
Despite her heart hammering at his nearness, and also because for one dreadful moment his action had brought back a sickening memory of Tom, furiously lashing out at her because she’d displeased him in some way, Sophia schooled herself to stay calm. The man standing in front of her wasn’t Tom. And, even though she’d obviously hit a raw nerve by describing the world of his sister’s friends as ‘superficial’, she somehow knew that Jarrett wasn’t the kind of man who would use his superior strength to intimidate or wound a woman.
The breath she exhaled was undoubtedly relieved—but then another disturbing thought struck. ‘Perhaps you’re not interested in them because you’re already involved with someone?’
‘If you were interested in my relationship status then why didn’t you ask me about it before? Do you think I’d offer to take you and Charlie to the seaside if I was involved with someone else?’ As he crossed his arms over his chest, Jarrett’s scowl turned into a perturbed frown.
Sophia heard what he said, but just then her attention was helplessly captured by the way the clearly defined muscles in his upper arms bunched and flexed beneath the loose-fitting material of his cotton shirt. The sight made her feel hot and bothered in a way that she hadn’t experienced since she was eighteen … before Tom Abingdon had crushed all her innocent hopes and dreams of a happy, loving marriage deep into the dirt with his proclivity for cruelty and licentiousness.
‘I’m sorry. Clearly my social skills aren’t what they once were. I didn’t mean to offend you.’ Turning away in a bid to hide her heated reaction to him, she gasped when Jarrett fastened his hand lightly round her forearm.
‘You haven’t offended me.’ His voice rolled over her senses like a warm sea of honey. Along with his touch, and the simmering heat in his gaze that he didn’t trouble to disguise, it completely electrified her.
‘Just so that you know, there’s only one woman I’m interested in, Sophia, and that’s you.’
‘I already told you that I can’t offer you anything. Weren’t you listening?’
‘I heard what you said. But I’m not a man who gives up easily when I sens
e something or someone might potentially be important to me.’
His riveting gaze made her feel as if she was diving into a molten blue lake. When he lifted his hand from her arm, Sophia knew the sensuous tingling imprint that he left on her skin would not easily vanish when he had gone. Apart from being immensely pleasurable, the thought of what it might mean … where it could lead should she succumb to his touch more fully … made her quake inside.
Putting a lit match to the tinder she’d arranged between the split ash logs in the once grand fireplace, it was with a real sense of satisfaction that Sophia watched the dry wooden limbs and scrunched-up newspaper catch fire. Her father had always loved a real fire in winter, or when the weather was sufficiently cold to warrant one, and they unfailingly reminded Sophia of home and of him. Sometimes it was too much to bear to remember he was gone and that he’d left the world believing that his only daughter was in safe hands with her new husband. But she’d often counted her blessings that he hadn’t lived to see the misery Tom had inflicted on her, because it would have broken his heart. He would also have been furious that any man would treat her with anything but the utmost respect, and would have fought tooth and nail to extricate her from a marriage that in truth had been doomed even before the ceremony.
What she would give now to have had the common sense to see it for herself. Yet her union with her husband had not been a total disaster, because it had given her Charlie … the little boy who had helped Sophia cling to hope even when times had been unremittingly dark and frightening … The depth of love she felt for her son went way beyond any love she could ever imagine. She glanced over at him now, to check that he was still sleeping. Satisfied that he was, she allowed herself a pleased smile, then returned her gaze to the fire.
Flashes of blue flame were licking hotly round the fragrant logs, denoting the fire had taken firm hold, and she rose to her feet from her kneeling position in front of it, dusted her hands over her jeans and returned to the worn maroon armchair opposite her guest. Charlie continued to slumber blissfully in his curled-up position on the couch, his plump cheeks rosy as the sweetest red apple even though the warmth of the fire had not yet permeated the room. Sophia moved her glance to Jarrett. The long muscular legs in faded black denim were stretched out in a relaxed pose as he sipped at the mug of tea she’d made him, and she couldn’t help admiring his apparent ability to be so at ease.
