Honeymoon with the Boss

‘It’s very close,’ he pointed out, ‘and those clouds were behind us, remember? Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not there.’

Imogen pulled a face. ‘Creepy thought.’ Not being able to see it only made the gathering storm seem more menacing.

Uneasily, she pulled her legs up so that she could hug her knees. ‘I think you must be right, though. It feels eerie tonight. It’s as if the whole island is holding its breath.’

The air was suffocatingly hot and heavy. It seemed to wrap itself around them as Tom handed Imogen her drink and sat back down beside her.

‘Listen!’ he said, holding up a finger.

Imogen cocked her head on one side. ‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘Exactly. Usually you can’t hear yourself think for the insects but there’s not a peep out of them tonight. It’s all quiet.’

‘So it is.’ In spite of the heat, she shivered. ‘No bats either. It’s uncanny.’

The last stripe of scarlet along the horizon slipped away and the darkness swooped after it, swallowing up the last gleam of light in the sky. It felt more intense than usual, and Imogen was sure that she could feel the blackness boiling angrily up behind them.

The silence was making her stomach churn, and she bit her lip and hugged her knees more tightly, unsure whether she longed for something to happen to break the suspense, or dreaded it.

A lamp inside threw a dim yellow glow through the window onto the veranda. It was enough for Tom to see a pulse hammering in Imogen’s throat. Her whole body was rigid with tension, and he remembered what she had told him earlier about her fear of storms.

‘Come here,’ he said, and held out his hand.

Imogen didn’t even hesitate. She took it gratefully, and the fear that had been jittering just below her skin steadied the moment his fingers closed firmly around hers. His clasp was warm and strong as he drew her down onto the seat close beside him. He didn’t tell her not to be frightened, but just put his arm around her and held her close against the hard security of his body.

Her heart was booming and thudding, but now she didn’t know whether it was from fear or from a desperate, churning awareness of Tom’s nearness. He was so solid, so steady, so gloriously reassuring, that she wanted to burrow into him, but she made herself sit still, comforted by the strength of his arm.

As every evening, he was wearing cool chinos and a loose shirt. Tonight, for the first time, she was close enough to feel that it was made of the finest cotton, close enough to breathe in its indefinably expensive smell, mingled with the clean, wonderfully male scent of his skin.

Imogen was so distracted by the feel of him that she almost forgot the threatening storm until the blackness was fractured by a great fork of lightning, followed a few seconds later by an ear-splitting crack that sent her heart lurching into her throat.

Tom felt her jump and tightened his arm around her. ‘Here we go,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Looks like it’s going to be a big one, but you’re safe with me.’

And, incredibly, safe was exactly how Imogen felt, even though the sky was lit up again and again in a spectacular display, and the sound of the thunder ripped through the silence and reverberated all around them. It went on for long minutes before stopping as abruptly as it had begun.

‘Wow,’ she said unsteadily into a silence that still echoed with the crack of thunder. Normally the first hint of lightning had her literally cowering under the blankets, and she had never seen anything like that display of ferocious power. She moistened her lips, very glad of Tom’s massive, reassuring presence. ‘Do you think that’s it?’

But that was only the beginning. Before Tom had a chance to reply, the wind was upon them. Like a wild animal, it snarled through the palms, shaking them in savage fury until they bent like saplings. It thrashed its way into the undergrowth, whipping the foliage from side to side, and hurled itself at the house.

And then the rain hit them.

Imogen had never seen rain like it. It fell like a wall of water, thundering down onto the veranda roof and hammering into the sand. The noise was deafening, brutal, and she huddled closer into Tom’s side.

‘All right?’ He had to shout over the sound of the rain, but she could still hardly hear him.

She had been watching the rain with a mixture of awe and terror, but at his question she pulled away slightly so that she could look up at him. The silvery eyes gleamed back down at her and she realized, to her astonishment, that the corners of his mouth were turned up. He was actually smiling!

‘You’re enjoying this!’

Tom’s smile broadened at the accusing note in her voice. ‘I like storms,’ he admitted. ‘Don’t you think this is exciting?’

Now he came to mention it, that was excitement quivering along her veins, but it wasn’t due to the storm. It was being pressed close into his body, knowing that if she turned her head just a little bit more his throat was only inches away. It would take so little to lean into him and touch her lips to his skin and, once she’d done that, she could blizzard tiny kisses along his jaw to his mouth.

And, if she got that far and he was still smiling, she could find out if his lips were as cool and firm as they looked. She could kiss him the way she had been trying so hard not to think about kissing him all week. She could squirm onto his lap and wind her arms around his neck and perhaps Tom would kiss her back. Perhaps his hands would slide over her, perhaps he would peel off her clothes, perhaps he would take her inside to that big bed and make love to her…

Imogen gulped. Tom was talking about the storm, remember?

‘Exciting isn’t the word I’d use,’ she managed.

Tom laughed and pulled her closer. He hadn’t meant to, but she fitted so perfectly into him, and she was so soft and so warm and so gorgeous that his arm seemed to tighten of its own accord. The storm was awesome, without a doubt, but the millions of volts crackling across the sky were muted compared to the feeling that jolted through him whenever Imogen shifted slightly and the thin material of her dress beneath his hand slithered over her skin.

Even as he looked down into her face, Tom knew that it was a mistake. The muted glow of the lamp inside was just enough for their eyes to meet, and once they’d snared they were both caught. Tom’s smile faded slowly as her gaze held his. He knew just how blue her eyes were, but in this light they were dark and deep and he was drowning in them.

The sound and fury of the storm was forgotten as something undeniable crackled into life between them. Imogen couldn’t have looked away if she had tried. It was as if some irresistible force were drawing them together, and her blood drummed with anticipation.

At last-at last-he was going to kiss her, and she was going to kiss him back, just as she’d dreamed about. She wasn’t going to think about anything except how good it was going to feel. Parting her lips, she lifted her face as Tom lowered his head…

CHAPTER EIGHT

A SUDDEN jagged flash of lightning severed the dark and thunder crashed so terrifyingly close to the house that they both flinched apart in the blinding light. The next moment it was gone and they were plunged into utter darkness.

Imogen stiffened, the old fear clutching at her throat.

‘The generator’s gone,’ Tom yelled in her ear. ‘Don’t worry. There’s a flashlight inside.’

He took his arm from round her and she grabbed him in panic, frantic at the thought of waiting alone in the dark with the storm screaming around her. ‘Don’t leave me!’

‘I’m not going to leave you.’ He took firm hold of her hand. ‘Come with me. It’ll be fine once we get some light.’

Without even a glimmer of starlight, the depth of the darkness was disorientating. Hand in hand, they groped their way to the door and then inside. Tom remembered Ali showing them the flashlight and how to light the gas