Honeymoon with the Boss

And there was a huge, beautiful bed.

It had to be at least seven feet wide, and made with white sheets of the softest and purest cotton and piled with inviting pillows. A bed made for love.

Imogen, who had been exclaiming with pleasure as Ali showed them round, fell suddenly silent.

She glanced at Tom. His expression was unreadable, but she could imagine all too well what he must be thinking. How could he not be imagining in his turn what it would have been like if Julia had been there with him? If they had been impatient for Ali to leave them alone so that they could fall across that wonderful bed and make love?

It would be heaven. Imogen swallowed, unable to stop herself wondering what it would be like if she and Tom really were on honeymoon, if she was here because he loved her, not because Julia had left him in the lurch.

Too polite to comment on the awkward silence that had developed in the bedroom, Ali continued the tour, showing them the meals that had been left in the fridge, discussing the menu for the next day and pointing out the generator. Then he got into the speedboat and headed back to the resort, leaving Tom and Imogen alone.

They watched the boat speed out through the reef and then veer right in the direction of the islands they had passed on their way, its wake foaming behind it, and then even the sound of its engine vanished.

Imogen listened hard. She could hear the ocean murmuring against the reef, and somewhere a bird called raucously, but otherwise it was utterly quiet.

‘Well,’ she said awkwardly.

‘Well,’ agreed Tom in a dry voice.

Biting her lip, she looked out over the lagoon, which was achingly clear and green in the glaring light of midday. A cat’s paw of breeze shivered over its surface and rustled the palms overhead, but then it was gone, leaving the scene still and dreamlike in the heat.

‘Do you think you can spend three weeks here?’ he asked her after a moment.

‘Oh, yes, of course! It’s absolutely beautiful,’ she said. ‘I feel as if I’ve stumbled into paradise! I just wish…’

Tom lifted an eyebrow as she hesitated. ‘What?’

‘I just wish things could be different for you,’ she told him impulsively. ‘I know how hard it must be for you to have me here instead of Julia.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Tom gruffly. ‘I’m more afraid that you’ll be bored.’

‘Bored?’ Imogen stared at him. ‘How could I be bored here?’ she asked, waving a hand at the view.

‘You’ve always struck me as a very sociable person,’ he explained to her surprise. She hadn’t realised he had observed her at all. ‘I see you chatting to people in the office and talking to your friends on the phone.’

Imogen grimaced at that bit. She had hoped Tom hadn’t realised how much time she spent on personal phone calls.

‘You seem like the kind of girl who likes to have fun,’ he went on, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘There won’t be much fun with just me for company.’

The truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about Imogen. He had been so consumed with the bitterness of humiliation that he had thought only about getting away, and it was only now, very belatedly, that he was wondering if he had been selfish. Julia had often told him he needed to work on his social skills, but he had never been good at the kind of light-hearted conversation at which Imogen seemed to excel.

She made an unlikely PA, with that slightly chaotic air, but behind the warmth and the friendliness he had noted in her dealings with everyone from the most senior directors to the cleaners, she was unexpectedly practical, and Tom was grateful to her for the way she had dealt with the aftermath of Julia’s change of mind. She deserved a better time than he would be able to give her.

Not that there was much he could do about it now. Tom hunched a shoulder. He hated feeling that he had got things wrong. He liked to be in control and know what was going on, and as soon as any emotions were involved, he was neither.

‘You make it sound as if I’m a wild party animal,’ said Imogen, amused but also secretly flattered. ‘To be honest, I spend most evenings watching television with my flatmate and complaining about how nothing exciting ever happens to us. And now I’m here…’ She looked around her. ‘I couldn’t ask for more exciting than this!’

Unless it was someone to share that beautiful bed with, a sneaky voice in her mind had the temerity to point out before Imogen squashed it firmly.

‘I promise you I’m more than happy just to look at this view for three weeks,’ she told Tom. ‘Of course, I’m happy to work too,’ she added hastily, remembering their agreement.

‘There’s no need for you to work today,’ said Tom gruffly. ‘Since we’re here, we may as well make the most of it.’

Imogen beamed at him. ‘Sounds good to me.’

‘So…what would you like to do? Are you tired?’

‘A bit,’ she confessed, ‘but I want to swim first. I can’t wait to get in that water!’

Ali had put their cases together in the bedroom. Tom’s was sleek and black, Imogen’s squashy and battered, and they sat side by side, looking bizarrely mismatched and yet oddly intimate at the same time.

Imogen fished out her bikini and changed in the en suite bathroom. Adjusting the straps, she regarded her reflection in the mirror dubiously. Had this bikini been quite so revealing the year before? It certainly didn’t leave much to the imagination!

Why hadn’t she stuck more carefully to that diet she had planned in January? If she had known she would be dusting off her bikini in February, she would never have eaten her way through all those packets of chocolate biscuits.

On the other hand, they were all that had got her through some of those long winter afternoons.

It was too late now, anyway. Imogen pulled herself together. Tom already had his laptop open, and when he was working he wouldn’t notice if she walked past him stark naked. He certainly wouldn’t be eyeing her up and wondering if a one-piece in a bigger size wouldn’t have been a better choice, the way another woman would. There was a lot to be said for having a whole beach to yourself.

Still, she wrapped a sarong around her waist before heading out to the living area. Tom might not notice the way she spilled out of her bikini bottoms, but she would, and she didn’t want to have to hold her tummy in all the time.

Tom was on one of the couches, leaning forward and frowning intently at the laptop open on the coffee table in front of him, but he looked up as Imogen appeared.

‘Don’t you want a swim?’ she said, feeling self-conscious. He had barely glanced at her before returning his gaze to the screen, but it was enough to make her aware that the sarong was very thin and that, beneath it, she was practically naked.

‘Maybe later,’ he said. ‘I want to check the markets first.’

‘OK. Well… I’ll be on the beach if you need me.’

When she had gone, Tom let out a long breath and slumped back against the cushions. He had been totally unprepared for the sight of Imogen, barefoot and wearing little more than a skimpy sarong. He recognised the brown hair tumbling to her shoulders, and the wide blue eyes, but had she always had that body? How had he never noticed before what luscious curves she had, or how lush and alluring her skin looked?

And now that he had noticed, how was he going to stop?

Tom scowled. He was still bruised from his last encounter with a woman, and he certainly didn’t intend to get entangled with another, especially not one who was his PA. It would be totally inappropriate.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about how she had looked. He certainly shouldn’t be wondering if she would feel as soft and warm as she looked, wondering what it would be like to unwind that sarong and explore that unexpectedly voluptuous body with his mouth and his hands.

Setting his teeth grimly, Tom forced his attention back to the screen. He must be suffering some kind of a delayed reaction to the last few days, he decided. Nothing else could explain the lust that had gripped him when he had looked up to see Imogen just now. It wasn’t even as if she was his type. He had never even thought about what she looked like before. His preference had always been for slender, sophisticated women-women who were cool and controlled. Women like Julia.

Julia. The thought of her was like a shock. Had it only been three days since he had