been ready to marry her? Tom couldn’t believe that he was thinking lustfully about another woman already. He had to stop it, right now, he thought. They had another three weeks to get through-three weeks when he would have to keep his hands firmly to himself.
He could do it. He could do whatever he set his mind to, Tom reminded himself. Hadn’t he built an entire career on sheer willpower and determination, on a refusal to let himself be distracted from his goal? He had resisted a lot more tempting distractions than Imogen, and he would resist her too. Quite apart from anything else, he didn’t want to distract
And work was what Tom Maddison did best.
It was hard to concentrate on it right then, though. He was hot and his eyes felt gritty from the plane. A quick dip would refresh him, Tom decided. An image of the lagoon shimmered in his mind, but he dismissed it. Imogen was down there. He didn’t want to crowd her.
Odd how vividly he could picture her, he mused, remembering how she had looked, smiling on the boat, her hair tangled around her face and her eyes full of sunshine, how she had looked in that sarong with her shoulders bare.
Remembering that was a mistake.
Restlessly, Tom got to his feet and wandered outside. The infinity pool shimmered invitingly. He would cool off in there and then get back to work.
But the pool seemed empty somehow and when he hung in the water with his arms stretched along the edge he could see the lagoon through the palms and he found himself imagining Imogen down there, on her own.
Really, it was ridiculous to feel that he had to avoid her! They were going to have to get on together for the next three weeks.
It wasn’t as if there was a problem, not really. Tom had already rationalised his momentary surge of lust as the simple reaction of a bruised ego. He might be alone on a tropical island with Imogen, but they were both sensible adults. There was absolutely no reason why they shouldn’t have the same professional relationship they had always had, and get on with some work.
Work was what mattered.
Hauling himself out of the pool, Tom dried himself off and went into the kitchen. Imogen wouldn’t be able to work if she was suffering from dehydration. He would take her a drink.
He found her stretched out on a lounger in the jagged shade of a palm. She had discarded the sarong somewhere along the line and was wearing only a bright pink bikini. Tom’s hand wasn’t quite steady as he offered her a glass of fresh lime juice.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting up, but her smile as she took the glass from him was definitely tense.
It couldn’t be easy for her, stuck here with her boss, thought Tom.
He sat on the edge of the lounger set out beside hers and stared out at the lagoon while he sipped his own drink and willed the image of Imogen in that bikini to stop dancing before his eyes.
He could do this. It was just a matter of getting used to seeing his PA without her clothes on.
There was a strained silence.
‘What’s the water like?’ Tom asked eventually, uncomfortably aware that his voice came out as a rasp, and he cleared his throat.
‘Lovely.’ Imogen drained her glass and put it down in the sand as she stood up. ‘I was about to go back in for another swim,’ she said, then hesitated. ‘Why don’t you come?’
It might be better to do something rather than sit here trying not to look at her, Tom decided. ‘All right,’ he said, getting to his feet.
They walked over the hot sand together and into the water. It was so clear they could see their feet in extraordinary detail as they waded past the shallows.
‘It feels like silk against your skin, doesn’t it?’ said Imogen, trailing her fingers over the surface.
Tom wished she hadn’t mentioned her skin. It was hard enough to keep his eyes off it as it was. As soon as it was deep enough, he dived into the water and swam in a fast crawl out towards the reef.
It felt good to stretch himself physically. It certainly felt less dangerous than standing close to Imogen wearing little more than a few triangles of cloth.
When he stopped at last, he shook the hair out of his eyes and trod water. Here, it had deepened to jade, but he could still see right down to the bottom, some way below. The sun was bouncing off the surface and fracturing the water into silvery patterns, and he had to squint against the glare to find Imogen, who was floating dreamily on her back, legs and arms stretched out like a starfish.
It was very quiet. How long was it since he had stopped like this and just listened to the silence, just felt the sun on his shoulders? His life was so focused, so driven by the need to succeed that he had forgotten how to relax the way Imogen was relaxing. Maybe he had never known how to relax like that, thought Tom, but he had the strangest idea that the tight feeling that had gripped him for as long as he could remember was starting to loosen in the sunlight and the warm silky water.
CHAPTER FOUR
HE SWAM more slowly back to shore. By the time he got there, Imogen was lolling in the shallows. Leaning back on her hands, her head was tipped back as she lifted her face to the sun, but she opened her eyes at the sound of his approach.
‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’ she said naturally enough, but there was still that constraint in her expression and her smile was guarded.
Tom knew how she felt. Imogen was his PA; he was her boss. It wasn’t as if they were strangers, but it occurred to him-very belatedly-that they had never had what could properly be called a conversation and now he wasn’t sure where to start. They had only ever talked about work, about practicalities, but they could hardly discuss either here, with the light rocking over the water and the hot breeze ruffling the palms.
The situation was more awkward than he had anticipated. The truth was that he had been so desperate to get away from the humiliation of a cancelled wedding that he hadn’t really thought what it would be like being alone with Imogen. He had imagined that there would be plenty of room for both of them on the island and, although there obviously was, he could hardly walk past her and ignore her, could he?
After a moment’s hesitation, he sat down next to her in the shallows. He would try and avoid her as much as possible, but they were still going to have to establish some kind of relationship for the next three weeks. They couldn’t spend their time together in silence. For now he had better try and make a bit of an effort.
Only it was harder than he thought when he was sitting right beside her. He had been careful not to get too close, but he was quite near enough to see how the wet bikini clung to Imogen’s breasts.
Near enough to see the droplets of water on her skin and the curve of her mouth.
Near enough to see the sweep of her lashes, the pulse beating in her throat.
Tom cleared his throat and made himself look away. ‘The water’s very nice,’ he agreed.
Imogen dug her toes into the sand and marvelled at his innocuous choice of words. It was more than
Dazzled by the heat and the light and the colour, she felt as if she had stumbled into another world and she had been sitting very still, half afraid that if she moved it would disappear in a blink and she would find herself back on the Northern Line, battling her way up into the greyness and the rain with the other commuters.
It was all so perfect, the blues and the greens and the pure white beach behind her. The colours were clean and clear and the only sound was the ocean, muted beyond the reef, and the gentle ripple of the lagoon around her ankles.
The only jarring note was Tom. He belonged in the other grey day-to-day world, not in this colourful idyllic one.
Imogen slid a sideways glance at him under her lashes. He was looking out towards the reef, his arms resting casually on his knees, and he seemed at once startlingly familiar and a stranger.
The stern profile, the dark formidable features, the close-cropped hair were the same as ever, but she wasn’t used to seeing them etched against a perfect blue sky.
