by Jessica Hart
It was amazing what a difference a glimpse of humour made, she reflected. If she had seen that look before, her fantasies might have been a lot more dangerous! Just as well he was safely engaged now.
The next moment, though, he had reverted to type. ‘It sounds fine,’ he said briskly. ‘Book it for me.’
Imogen hesitated. This was his honeymoon they were talking about. ‘Wouldn’t you rather do it yourself?’
‘No,’ said Tom with emphasis, ‘I’d rather get on with some work.’
‘But a honeymoon is such a personal thing,’ she protested.
‘Yes, and you’re my personal assistant,’ he pointed out. ‘That means you assist me personally, so I suggest that’s what you do. Now, the wedding is on…’
To Imogen’s amazement, he actually consulted his computer about a date that ought to be engraved on his heart. ‘Ah, yes, twenty-seventh of February. Julia is talking about having it at some castle in Gloucestershire, but we can get to Heathrow easily enough from there, so book a flight that night.
‘I don’t want to know about how much everything costs,’ he added as Imogen opened her mouth. ‘I can’t be bothered with the details. Just book whatever you think and charge it to my account.’
‘Very well,’ said Imogen, the perfect PA once more. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘What I want,’ said Tom grouchily, ‘is not to be distracted. We’ve got an important contract to negotiate before I can get married, so let’s get on with that.’
‘And I’ve booked the honeymoon for you,’ Imogen finished after handing Tom the last message. He had been out of the office in meetings all day, and the phone had been ringing constantly.
‘Good, good,’ said Tom absently, flicking through the messages. He was still wearing his overcoat, and his shoulders still glistened with raindrops in the harsh overhead light.
‘Don’t you want the details?’
He frowned. ‘I suppose I’d better have them,’ he decided. ‘Julia might ask what I’ve arranged. Can you put it all in a file for me?’
‘I’ve got it here.’ Imogen handed the file over the desk. ‘I do hope you’ll enjoy it,’ she said. ‘I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, especially with the weather the way it is at the moment,’ she added, nodding to where the January rain was still splattering against the window.
Tom only grunted as he opened the file and scanned the arrangements that she had typed up. His ferocious brows rose at the cost, Imogen noticed, but to her relief he made no comment. What would it be like to barely blink at spending a hefty five-figure sum on a holiday?
He turned to the next page. ‘Leaving on the twenty-seventh…’ his voice sharpened ‘…back on the nineteenth of March?’
‘You told me to book whatever I thought would be most appropriate,’ she reminded him.
‘I can’t believe you thought it would be appropriate for me to be away from the office for three weeks!’
Imogen refused to quail. ‘It’s your honeymoon,’ she said. ‘It’s a special time. It’s important to get your marriage off to the right start if you can afford it, as you obviously can.’
‘I’m not talking about money,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s time I can’t afford.’
‘I’m not talking about money either,’ said Imogen. ‘Collocom isn’t going to fall apart if you’re not here for three weeks, so you can afford the time. It’s a question of priorities. What matters more, Collocom or your marriage?’
Tom eyed his PA with something close to dislike. He knew how he was supposed to reply to that!
He thought wistfully of the days when he and Julia had had a successful long-distance relationship. Their weekends in New York had been mutually satisfying. Julia had her own busy life, and respected his space. He hadn’t been expected then to think about all this emotional stuff, or to reassess his priorities.
He hadn’t counted on all these changes. If he’d known, would he ever have thought about marriage? Tom wondered with an inward sigh.
It would be fine, he reassured himself. Julia was an incredible woman, and he was lucky to have met her. She would understand about the honeymoon.
‘I’ll talk to Julia about it,’ he told Imogen, closing the file with a snap. ‘Then you can rearrange the flights.’
But Julia was thrilled when he told her about Coconut Island. ‘Thank you for choosing somewhere so romantic, honey,’ she enthused. ‘And three weeks alone! I can’t wait! Won’t it be wonderful to spend that time together and get to know each other properly?’
Tom thought they did know each other. Why else would they be getting married?
He had been hoping that Julia would want to cut the honeymoon short. A drive for success was something they had in common-or, at least, it had been until Julia had gone wedding crazy. Now it appeared she would rather loll around on a beach for three weeks than get back to work! Wouldn’t she want to know what was happening in her absence? Wouldn’t she be concerned about deals being made without her, or the challenges and opportunities she would miss while she was sitting under some coconut palm?
This was Imogen’s fault, Tom thought darkly. If she hadn’t booked such a long stay, Julia would have been perfectly happy to return to normal after a week.
When Imogen asked him if he wanted her to rearrange the flights, he snapped at her but had to concede that the dates should stay as she had booked.
‘Leave it as it is,’ he snarled.
‘Oh-kay…good,’ said Imogen, eyeing him warily. Being engaged didn’t seem to be suiting him at all.
Tom’s foul mood continued for the next couple of days. He was so grouchy that Imogen began to wonder if Julia had called the engagement off. If Tom was like this with her, Imogen wouldn’t have blamed her!
Not that she had any intention of asking him if everything was all right. She valued her head too much. The only thing to do when Tom was like this was to keep her head down and be glad that she was only a very temporary secretary.
Think of the money, Imogen told herself. She was earning good money here and her travel fund was looking positively healthy. As soon as Tom got round to appointing a new PA she would be off to Australia and someone else could deal with him. Good luck to her!
It appeared, though, that the engagement was very much still on. Imogen was squinting at her shorthand a couple of days later when the phone rang.
‘Chief Executive’s office.’
‘Hi, is that Imogen?’ The warm American voice spilled out of the phone. ‘This is Julia, Tom’s fiancée, here. Tom said you might be able to help me with a few little things.’
Those ‘few little things’ turned out to be a list of details to check that extended to three pages. Imogen rolled her eyes as she scribbled down notes, but she had to admit that Julia was very friendly and appreciative. Unlike Tom, she was obviously thrilled at the prospect of a wedding.
‘I’m having a dress made here,’ she told Imogen excitedly. ‘It is so-o-o-o beautiful! I knew exactly what I wanted. In fact, I’ll email you the design-you’re being so helpful, I’m thinking of you as a kind of cyber bridesmaid! Would you like to see it?’
Imogen had little choice but to murmur politely that she would love to.
‘Don’t show Tom, though! It’s unlucky for him to see it before the wedding.’
Imogen tried, and failed, to imagine poring girlishly over a dress design with her boss. Tom must be very different with Julia if she thought he’d have the slightest interest in what anyone wore.
‘I won’t.’
‘Now, I’ve booked Stavely Castle for the wedding and reception,’ said Julia. ‘I visited last time I was in England and it was just so romantic. I decided there and then if I ever got married, that’s where I wanted the wedding!’
She rattled on, wanting Imogen to book a string quartet, find a supply of fresh rose petals, put her in touch with a cake designer, draw up a list of hotels in the area…
‘You’re so sweet to help me out like thi
s,’ she told Imogen. ‘It’s difficult to sort out details like this from New York, and I’m just so busy at the moment, what with sorting out everything here before I come over to London. I had no idea how much work organising a wedding would be on top of it all!’
‘It’s a lot to do at such short notice,’ Imogen agreed, reflecting that Julia wasn’t the only busy one. Sadly, they didn’t all have fiancés with assistants they could fob off with all the time-consuming jobs!
‘I know, it’s crazy, isn’t it?’ Julia’s laugh sounded a little wild to Imogen. ‘But Stavely Castle suddenly had a cancellation and it just seemed meant somehow. As I said to Tom, when you know you’ve found the right person, why wait?’
Imogen murmured something noncommittal. It seemed to her that if you wanted a spontaneous wedding, it made sense to keep things simple and let the rose petals and the string quartets go. Still, it wasn’t her wedding, and Julia and Tom had plenty of money to throw at the problem, which always helped.
‘How is Tom?’ Julia was asking.
‘Er, he’s fine,’ said Imogen, wondering if she was expected to report that her boss was working himself into a frenzy of excitement about the wedding. ‘Working hard. You know what he’s like.’
Julia laughed. ‘I know. Isn’t he a darling? He’s so British sometimes!’
‘Absolutely,’ Imogen agreed, boggling at the phone. Tom Maddison, a darling? Julia must be in love!
‘Is he there?’
‘Of course. I’ll put you through.’
Putting Julia on hold, Imogen buzzed Tom. ‘I’ve got Julia on the line.’
‘Julia?’ he snapped.
‘Your fiancée,’ she reminded him.
‘What does she want?’
‘She didn’t say. I imagine she wants to talk to you.’
‘I can’t talk now,’ he said irritably. ‘Can’t it wait? Tell her I’m in a meeting.’
‘I’ve already said that I would put her through.’
He made an exasperated sound. ‘Oh, very well.’
Imogen grimaced as she put down the phone. Some darling!
She felt sorry for Julia. There had been a feverishness to the other woman’s voice that boded ill for a measured conversation with her fiancé. A few minutes’ conversation had been enough to show Imogen that Julia was a control freak, and already stressed by having to organise the perfect wedding at long distance. Right now, Julia needed calm reassurance, but Imogen was afraid she was unlikely to get it from Tom in his current mood.
Five minutes later, Tom banged out of his office, his mood clearly even worse than she had feared.
‘This wedding business is getting out of control,’ he snarled. ‘I haven’t got time to talk about invitations and vows and rehearsal dinners! And you’re spending far too much time on it, too,’ he added accusingly.
‘I don’t mind,’ she said quickly. ‘It’ll be easier when Julia is here.’
‘I hope to God you’re right!’
‘You have to make allowances.’ Imogen was beginning to feel like a counsellor. She certainly seemed to spend more time talking to Tom and to Julia than they were talking to each other. ‘A wedding is a big deal for any woman,’ she tried to placate Tom. ‘Julia’s giving up her life in New York to be with you, so it’s going to be an even more emotional time than usual for her. I know it seems like a lot of stress at the moment, but it will be worth it when you’re married, won’t it?’
Tom stopped pacing and imagined a time when he and Julia were safely married. Everything would be calm again, and he would go home every night to a beautiful, accomplished wife who understood what made a successful relationship and who would support him professionally and personally. He could rely on Julia to always say the right thing, and do the right thing. She was neat and orderly and sensible-except when it came to weddings, it seemed.
Perhaps Imogen was right, and it was just the stress of arranging a wedding at short notice that was making Julia so uncharacteristically emotional. Once this damned wedding was over, surely she would go back to the way she had been before?
It had taken Tom a long time to find just the right wife. Julia wouldn’t normally expect him to be all lovey-dovey. They had come to a very clear agreement about what they both wanted from marriage, so if it didn’t work with her, it was never going to work with anyone.
No, Julia was perfect. He didn’t want to lose her now.
He would just have to be more patient, Tom decided. He would try harder to show an interest in the wedding if that was what Julia wanted.
He could feel Imogen’s stern eye on him and remembered her question. It will be worth it, won’t it?
‘Of course it will,’ he said.
CHAPTER TWO
I MOGEN waved at the girls on Reception and pressed the button to call the lift. This was Tom’s last day in the office before the wedding, and the staff had planned a surprise champagne reception later that afternoon to wish him well.
She hoped Tom would appreciate the gesture and manage a smile for them. Most of the staff were terrified of his brusque manner, but they respected him, too. He was tough, but fair, and no one was in any doubt that he had transformed Collocom in the six months he had been there. Their boss’s wedding was an excuse to celebrate a much more secure future for them all.
It had been a busy few weeks. Imogen had spent most of them chasing up string quartets and florists and photographers. She was an expert now on everything from the design of the place settings to special licence arrangements, and she was on first-name terms with the staff at Stavely Castle after ringing on a daily basis to change or check endless details. Perhaps when she got back from her travels she could set up as a wedding planner?
There had been no word from Julia for a couple of days now, which was odd. Tom’s fiancée had been backwards and forwards between New York and London for the past few weeks, but ten days ago she had arrived, she said, to stay. Imogen had arranged for her to lease a fabulous flat in Chelsea Harbour so that she could prepare for the wedding, but she had still been on the phone several times a day. Imogen just hoped that-finally!-everything was ready and Julia could stop fretting.
Tom’s fiancée was very lovely, as slender as predicted, and beautifully dressed. There was a glossiness and a sheen to her that made Imogen feel gauche and faintly shabby in comparison. They were probably much the same age, but Julia was so much more sophisticated she seemed to come from a different world, one where first-class travel and designer clothes were the norm, and a million miles from Imogen’s life sharing a chaotic flat in south London.
In spite of the differences between them, Julia was determined to treat Imogen as her new best friend when they’d finally met in the office one day. She was warm and friendly, embarrassingly so at times, but Imogen sensed a tension to her and a frenetic undercurrent to her obsession with wedding arrangements, as if she were wound up like a tightly coiled spring. Imogen hoped she would be able to relax enough to enjoy the wedding.
Julia had brought Imogen a beautiful scarf to thank her for all her work. ‘I do hope you’ll come to the wedding, Imogen,’ she said, kissing her on both cheeks when she first met her. ‘It would mean the world to Tom and me if you were there. Wouldn’t it, Tom?’
It had clearly never crossed Tom’s mind to care one way or another, but he nodded. ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘I know how hard Imogen has worked to make sure it all happens.’
There was a very faint edge to his voice. Imogen knew just how often he had been exasperated to find her tied up with wedding arrangements when he needed her to do something else, but she had to admit that he’d been making much more of an effort lately. She wondered if Julia realised quite how hard he was trying.
Julia had confided to Imogen in one of her many phone calls that she had wondered at one time if Tom had been having second thoughts about getting married. ‘But he’s been so sweet lately that I can see I was silly to have worried,’ she said. ‘He rings twice a day, and sends me a red r
ose every morning just so I know he’s thinking about me.’
Julia sighed with satisfaction. As well she might, Imogen reflected. She had arranged the delivery of the single roses herself and knew exactly how much it cost. Her mind boggled at the idea of Tom being sweet. He must really love Julia if he was prepared to change to such an extent, she thought wistfully.
She tried hard to be happy for them. It wasn’t Julia’s fault if she was thin, beautiful, wealthy, glamorous and had a man like Tom Maddison at her feet.
It wasn’t her fault if Imogen couldn’t stick to a diet, devoured a whole packet of chocolate digestives at a sitting and was reduced to dates with men who explained exactly how a mobile phone worked or who actually thought she would be interested in a detailed account of the intergalactic battles in Star Wars.
‘Your trouble is that you’re too picky,’ Amanda was always telling her. ‘You’re looking for a prince, and he’s just not going to turn up. You’ve got to be prepared to compromise a bit.’
‘I don’t want to compromise.’ Imogen could be stubborn too. ‘I want what I had with Andrew.’
Amanda sighed. ‘You’ve got to get over him, Imo.’
‘I am over him.’ She thought she was, anyway. ‘I know he’s happy with Sara. I know he’s not going to come back. But when you’ve had the perfect relationship, it’s hard to settle for anything less.’
‘If it had been the perfect relationship, Andrew wouldn’t have broken it off,’ Amanda invariably pointed out.
It was a good point. Imogen knew her friend was right, and she really was trying to meet someone new. It was just that the men she met seemed lacking in even the hint of a spark.
Still, perhaps she should give them more of a chance, Imogen had decided only the week before. Look at how Tom had changed and was trying hard to please Julia. He must be in love with her if he was prepared to make that kind of effort.
