Honeymoon with the Boss

‘No, it’s fine.’ Imogen’s voice was muffled in her hands.

Crouching beside her, Tom smoothed cream firmly over her shoulders and up to the nape of her neck, before his hands, slippery with oil, slid down her back, then up, then down again, spreading his fingers this time to make sure her sides were covered.

Imogen made herself lie still but inside she was squirming with such pleasure that she was afraid that she would actually dissolve, leaving a sticky puddle on the lounger. At the same time she was rigid with tension caused by the need not to show it. She mustn’t sigh with pleasure, mustn’t roll over, mustn’t beg him not to stop…

Oh, God, he had started on the backs of her legs now…Imogen squeezed her eyes shut. Thank goodness she had had them waxed before she’d left.

Tom’s hands swept down her thighs in firm strokes to the backs of her knees, then on down to her ankles, before gliding all the way back up again. In spite of her best efforts, Imogen quivered.

She was sure that he must be able to hear her entire body thumping and thudding in time with her pounding heart. Part of her was desperate for him to stop before she disgraced herself by spontaneously combusting, but when he did take his hands away abruptly she only stopped herself from groaning with disappointment in the nick of time.

‘That should do you.’

If Imogen had been able to hear anything above the boom of her own pulse she might have noticed the undercurrent of strain to his voice but, as it was, all she could do was lie there and hope that he couldn’t actually see the heat beating along her veins.

‘Thank you.’ Her mouth was so dry, it came out as barely more than a croak.

Tom stood up. ‘I think I’ll get back to work,’ he said curtly. ‘No, you stay there,’ he added as Imogen lifted her head to ask if he wanted her to do anything. ‘There’s no point in wasting that lotion. I’ve just got a few things I want to be getting on with.’

‘Well, if you’re sure…’

‘I’m sure,’ said Tom. He badly needed to be alone, and the last thing he wanted was Imogen there, wondering why he was so tense or walking so stiffly! ‘I’ll see you later.’

There were things he needed to do but, no matter how hard he stared at the computer screen, Tom didn’t seem to be able to focus. His fingers were still throbbing with the feel of her body, so soft and smooth and warm, so dangerously enticing beneath his hands. Even though he had been able to see that she was rigid with discomfort, he had itched to turn her over, to brush the skimpy bikini away and explore every dip and curve of her.

It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to take his hands off her and step back.

Tom rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation at himself. Control, that was the key word here.

Control was what he was best at. It was what he was. He had never had any trouble controlling impulses before and there was no reason to start now. It was just the heat and the light getting to him, Tom told himself. Or maybe just a reaction to Julia’s rejection. That would be understandable enough.

He began to feel a bit better. Yes, all he needed was a little time on his own out of the sun. He would sit here and work, and he wouldn’t think about Imogen at all.

He would be fine.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TOM was still at his computer a couple of hours later when Imogen climbed the steps to the veranda. He looked up as she appeared in the doorway and, as their eyes met, the air quivered on the verge of tension before they both looked away.

‘Bored?’ he asked.

Imogen laughed and shook her head. ‘Hardly! I’m thirsty, though, so I came up to get a drink.’ She opened the fridge door to find the water. ‘How are you getting on? Is everything under control?’

‘It is,’ said Tom with satisfaction. There was his word again: control. It felt right.

He was feeling much more himself. He had read a couple of reports, and fired off some emails. Under normal circumstances, that would have been the work of half an hour, but it wasn’t bad, given the amount of time he had spent carefully not thinking about Imogen.

Imogen poured herself a long glass of water and leant against the room divider to drink it.

‘I was thinking I might try walking around the island,’ she said tentatively.

Left alone, she had found it impossible to concentrate on her book. She was horribly afraid that Tom might have guessed the effect that he was having on her and had been embarrassed. He hadn’t been able to wait to get away!

Not that she blamed him. If she had been rubbing lotion onto someone who squirmed like that, she’d have run a mile too.

He had only been putting a bit of cream on her, for heaven’s sake! It had been ridiculous to get herself in a state about it, thought Imogen, mortified. They were supposed to be friends, and friends didn’t go to pieces the moment the other laid a finger on them. She was determined to find some way to show him that she was back to normal.

‘Are you still working, or would you like to come?’

Tom linked his arms above his head and stretched. ‘A walk sounds good.’ It sounded normal, easy, safe. Controllable. ‘I could do with stretching my legs.’

‘Great.’ Imogen finished her water. ‘I’ll get my hat.’

It was well into the afternoon by the time they set out, but it was still very hot, in spite of a breeze that ruffled the lagoon and made the palms sigh and rustle overhead as Imogen and Tom headed barefoot along the beach. Imogen had wrapped a sarong around her waist and her face was shaded by a soft straw hat. Beside her, Tom wore shorts and a loose short-sleeved shirt.

They walked in silence at first but, rather to Imogen’s surprise, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. They splashed around the point where the dense vegetation grew right to the shore and found themselves on the far side of the island. There was little sand to speak of there, but the water was so warm and clear that they were happy to wade ankle deep in the shallows to where the shore curved inwards once more.

Suddenly Tom stopped and shaded his eyes as he looked out to sea. ‘Look!’

‘What is it?’ Imogen’s gaze followed his finger until she exclaimed in delight. ‘Dolphins!’

In silence they stood and watched a whole pod of dolphins leaping out of the water with breathtaking grace. For Imogen, it was an extraordinary moment. It was as if she had never been fully alive before that moment, and she was aware of everything with a new and fierce intensity.

The sea was the bluest of blues, the heat hammered down, the light beyond the shade of her hat glared. She could feel the sand cool beneath her toes, the shallows rippling warm against her ankles and Tom, still and self- contained beside her, while further out the dolphins played, soaring into the air as if for the sheer joy of it, the water that streamed from their bodies glittering in the fierce sunlight.

Imogen could feel her heart swelling and her throat closed at the rush of emotion. The beauty and exuberance of the scene was so joyous it felt like an unexpected gift.

‘Quite something, isn’t it?’ said Tom.

Unable to speak, she nodded.

After a while the dolphins moved on. Imogen and Tom waited a few minutes in case they came back, but eventually they started walking again.

‘I’m sorry Julia’s not here with you,’ she said quietly at last, ‘but I’m glad I came. I’ll never forget that, or the reef this morning.’

Tom glanced down but could see little of her expression beneath her hat. ‘I’m glad you came too,’ he said.

Imogen took a breath. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked. ‘I mean, really?’

‘About Julia? I’m OK,’ he said when she nodded. ‘And yes, really.’ He looked away from her, squinting slightly at the bright light bouncing off the water. ‘Maybe I should be thinking about her more,’