Honeymoon with the Boss

CHAPTER TEN

THE memory of the island was thundering around the room but Imogen wasn’t going to be the first to mention it. What could she say, anyway? Oh, remember how we lay on the beach and looked at the stars? Remember how it felt to hold hands and feel as if the earth was turning beneath us? Remember how we made love right there and then had to shower off all the sand before we went to bed?

So she smiled coolly without quite meeting his eyes and handed him a folder. ‘These are the most urgent messages.’

Daunted by her composure, Tom took the folder but didn’t open it. ‘Have you still got the key to Julia’s flat?’ he asked abruptly.

‘I should have.’ Imogen rummaged in her drawer. She had used the key when she had returned the wedding presents before they’d left for Coconut Island. ‘Yes, here it is,’ she said, producing the key and forcing her mind away from the island. Stupid how it took so little for the memories to come swirling back. ‘Do you need it back?’

‘I was wondering if you could do a job for me,’ said Tom, and she assembled a smile from somewhere.

‘That’s what I’m here for.’

‘I spoke to Julia at the weekend,’ he told her. ‘It turns out that Patrick is going to work in some out-of-the-way place in South America, and Julia’s going with him. I can’t see her lasting out there,’ he admitted, ‘but she seems determined to start a new life.

‘She hasn’t got time to come back to London and sort out the apartment before she goes,’ he went on, ‘and the agents need it to be cleared so that they can let it again. She just took a small bag with her when she went off with Patrick and, although she hadn’t moved everything over here, there will still be some clothes and other stuff left. She says she doesn’t want any of it,’ Tom finished, ‘so she asked if I would get rid of anything that’s there. It can all go to charity or the dump.’

Imogen ached at the distant note in Tom’s voice. Talking to Julia must have been difficult for him, she knew. He had told her that he didn’t love Julia, and Imogen believed him, but she knew how much the other woman’s rejection had hurt his pride. Imogen had found it hard settling back into normal life, but how much harder must it be for Tom, who had had to return to an empty flat and the reminder that the perfect life he had planned with Julia had fallen apart?

‘Would you like me to deal with that for you?’ she said, anticipating his request.

‘Thank you,’ said Tom.

His formality broke Imogen’s heart but she kept her smile in place. ‘I’ll get on with it as soon as I can.’

In fact, it wasn’t until after work that Thursday that Imogen had time to get to the exclusive apartment Julia had rented in Chelsea.

It had been a very long four days, and Imogen was exhausted with the effort of keeping a smile on her face and parrying the not-so-subtle questions of her colleagues, who were desperate to know more about the time she had spent with Tom. Which was hard when she was just as desperate not to think about it.

She and Tom had both been careful to avoid any reference to Coconut Island. Inevitably, the atmosphere in the office was strained, but Imogen didn’t think they had been doing too badly until one of their senior shareholders had come to see Tom earlier that afternoon. When the meeting was over, Tom had walked him out to Imogen’s office and helped him on with his coat while he’d continued to complain about protection orders.

‘The world’s run mad.’ He snorted. ‘Next thing we know, flies and slugs will have protection orders! Last year we had bats roosting in the roof and we weren’t allowed to get rid of them! Absolutely ridiculous,’ he grumbled. ‘Bats, I ask you! Horrible little things. Have you ever seen them?’

Over his shoulder, Tom’s eyes met Imogen’s. ‘Yes, I have’ was all he said, but it was as if they were both transported back to the veranda on Coconut Island, to the hot tropical dusk and the bats darting and diving in the air. Imogen could practically feel the chair beneath her thighs, almost smell the frangipani drifting through the darkness, and hear the insects whirring and chirruping.

She knew Tom was remembering too. She could see it in the silver-grey eyes as their gazes locked and there was just the two of them, held in thrall by the memory of those long, sweet evenings.

‘Well, I’d better get on,’ the shareholder was saying, digging in his pockets for his gloves. ‘Good to see you again, Tom. Oh, and by the way, I meant to say that I was very sorry to hear about that business in February,’ he added gruffly.

‘Business?’ Tom sounded distracted.

‘Your wedding…most unfortunate.’ He was obviously embarrassed at having to be specific.

‘Oh, that…yes…thank you.’

Imogen was thinking about that exchange as she put the key in the lock and let herself into Julia’s apartment.

Tom hadn’t said anything when he’d come back from escorting the shareholder to the lift but something had changed with that meeting of their eyes, Imogen was convinced, and she hugged the possibility to her. Perhaps she didn’t need to despair, after all.

Wandering from room to room in Julia’s gorgeous flat, Imogen let herself dream. Maybe she would go into the office tomorrow and be talking about work when Tom would throw the file they were discussing onto the desk and say he couldn’t bear it without her any more. He would sweep her into his arms and tell her she was the one he really wanted. He’d beg her to marry him and stay with him for ever.

Even if he didn’t tell her that he loved her, it would be enough, Imogen decided. A man like Tom couldn’t suddenly pull all his emotions out of a hat, but there had been a chemistry between them, and today it had seemed as if it was still there. They could build on that. She could teach him how to love. She didn’t care as long as they could be together.

They could live somewhere like this. Imogen loved this apartment. It had lots of space and light, with a wonderful view of the Thames. She couldn’t help comparing it with the flat she shared with Amanda. There was nothing wrong with that, but it was very small and a bit shabby. They had fun there, of course, but this was the kind of place you lived in when you were grown up, when you had made a success of your career and were going to marry a man like Tom.

Dreamily, Imogen opened the wardrobe in the bedroom. Julia hadn’t spent much time in London, but it was still full of beautiful clothes. Imogen whistled soundlessly as she checked the labels. Amanda would be wild with envy. This lot ought to raise a lot of money for some lucky charity shop.

Fantasising all the while about living there with Tom, Imogen folded the outfits carefully and put them on the bed, ready to be packed into boxes for collection. She would have to deal with Julia’s wedding dress separately. It was hanging in a gorgeous cover behind the door and was much too big to fit in any of the boxes.

Imogen couldn’t resist having a look at it. Drawing down the zip, she let out an involuntary sigh of longing. It was exquisite. Very gently she touched the shimmering ivory fabric, marvelling at the detail in the delicately beaded design. Julia had sent her a sketch of the design, but she hadn’t realised how beautiful it would be when it was made up. This was the wedding dress every girl dreamed of, a dress that would make you look like a princess- gorgeous and utterly romantic.

Lifting it down, she drew off the cover and held the dress up against her, imagining wearing it at her own wedding.

She was walking down the aisle on her father’s arm in the village church. He was bursting with pride, her mother was sniffing into a handkerchief, her brothers were rolling their eyes but happy for her anyway. Amanda was there too, ready to step up and take her bouquet when the moment came.

Imogen could practically feel the stone floor beneath her feet and smell that mixture of musty kneeling cushions, old hymn books and wooden pews worn smooth by generations.

In her mind, she looked towards the altar and there was Tom, looking devastating in an austere morning suit. For a moment, she wondered if it could possibly be true, but then the stern features softened as he turned to watch her coming up the aisle, and he smiled at her, the silvery-grey eyes alight with love…

Reluctantly, Imogen wrenched herself from the dream and stroked the beautiful dress longingly. What would it