by Jessica Hart
Sick of yearning after the unattainable, as Amanda put it, Imogen had vowed to try harder. There was no reason why she shouldn’t find someone she could have a real relationship with, perhaps even someone who might like to come travelling with her, but it hadn’t been going well. Last night she had let Amanda’s boyfriend set her up on yet another blind date, this time with an engineer who had spent most of his time telling her about his multiple allergies.
No wonder she was feeling depressed this morning.
It was nothing to do with the fact that Tom Maddison was getting married in a couple of days.
The lights were on in both offices when she went in. That meant Tom was here already. He had probably been here since at least seven, in fact, the way he usually was. He wasn’t the kind of man who would take it easy just because he was getting married.
Imogen tested a smile in the mirror as she hung up her coat. It didn’t look very convincing. She tried again, adding a little sparkle to her eyes. Better. She could almost pass for a girl who was genuinely pleased for her boss.
She wanted to be. Tom might be grouchy at times, but she admired his self-discipline and integrity. He wasn’t the friendliest of bosses, but you always knew where you were with him.
And he never mentioned an allergy or gave the slightest indication he had even seen Star Wars. He deserved a beautiful wife like Julia.
‘Good morning,’ she said brightly, as she knocked and went into his office. ‘Your last day before the wedding! Where would you like me to start?’
Tom looked up from the papers on his desk, and Imogen’s heart plummeted as she saw that his face looked as if it were carved out of stone.
‘You can start by cancelling the wedding,’ he said.
There was a catastrophic silence.
‘Cancel it?’ said Imogen, aghast, hoping against hope that she had misheard.
Tom nodded curtly. ‘Pull the plug on everything.’
‘But…what on earth has happened? Where’s Julia?’
‘On her way back to New York.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Probably taking off right now.’
‘She’ll come back,’ said Imogen, thinking that Julia would have to turn round as soon as she landed to get back in time for the wedding. ‘It must just be last-minute nerves.’
‘She doesn’t want to get married,’ said Tom flatly. ‘No, that’s not quite right,’ he corrected himself. ‘She does want to get married, just not to me.’
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.
Imogen had been standing as if rooted to the spot, but at that she turned to close the door and, without waiting to be invited, sat down across the desk.
‘Are you sure there hasn’t been some kind of mistake?’ she asked carefully. ‘Is it possible you’ve misunderstood what the problem is?’
Tom gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. ‘Oh, no, she was crystal clear. I misunderstood the whole situation, it turns out, but not what she wants to do now.’
He couldn’t bear to be pitied. Swinging his chair round so that he wouldn’t have to look at the sympathy in Imogen’s face, he stared out of the window at the bleak February morning. It suited his mood exactly.
‘All of Julia’s family and friends are over for the wedding, and she’d arranged to spend the evening with them, so I wasn’t expecting to see her. But she turned up at my door at ten o’clock and said that we had to talk,’ he told Imogen. ‘It wasn’t the easiest of scenes. She said that she was sorry, but she couldn’t marry me because she was going to marry Patrick.’
‘Patrick?’ Imogen felt completely lost. This was all so unexpected it was difficult to grasp what he was telling her. ‘Who’s Patrick?’
‘Patrick is Julia’s best friend, always has been, ever since they were at college together. I met him in New York, and knew they spent lots of time together, but Julia always said that they had decided long ago not to spoil their friendship by sleeping together. It was always a platonic relationship, and they both dated other people, like me. That was one of the reasons she was always so happy with a long-distance relationship,’ Tom remembered. ‘When I wasn’t there, she had plenty of time to spend with Patrick, just “goofing around”, as she called it.’
Imogen could practically hear the quotation marks around the phrase, and she could understand his baffled distaste. Tom probably didn’t even know what goofing around was.
‘It turns out that Julia was in love with Patrick all along,’ he went on. ‘She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to lose him as a friend, but she wasn’t getting any younger and she decided that if she wanted to get married and have a family, as she does, she would have to make a decision to commit to someone else. That’s when Muggins here came along.’
Tom couldn’t look at Imogen. He was burning with humiliation, furious with himself for not realising the truth, furious with Julia for making a fool of him. She had made such a fuss about the wedding, and invited half the world, so everyone would know that he was the man too stupid to realise his fiancée was in love with someone else, too weak to convince her to stay, too inept to build a successful relationship.
Now they would all know he was a failure.
They would know he hadn’t been able to control his own life.
His jaw was clenched, but he couldn’t stop the betraying muscle jumping frantically in his cheek. He wanted to bellow with rage, to punch his fist into a wall, but he couldn’t do that. Imogen would think he was upset and feel even sorrier for him.
‘When I asked her to marry me, she thought it was a good chance to get away from New York and Patrick, and start afresh,’ he went on after a moment. ‘She liked me, she said, and she liked sleeping with me. She thought we had a lot in common and would make a good team. I did, too,’ he remembered with bitterness. ‘Once she’d made that decision, she threw herself into the whole idea of getting married.’
‘To compensate for the fact that she really wanted to be marrying someone else?’ Imogen said numbly. The feverish edge to Julia’s planning was beginning to make more sense now. She must have been desperate to get married while she could still convince herself that she was making the right decision. No wonder she had been keen to have the wedding in England and so soon.
‘She certainly fooled me.’ Tom’s mouth twisted as he swung round to face Imogen once more. He would show her that he was in control. ‘I had no idea I wasn’t the one she really wanted to marry.’
‘So what changed?’
‘Apparently the prospect of losing her was too much for Patrick and he came to his senses. He realised that he was in love with her, too, and probably always had been. It’s quite a touching story, when you think about it.’
Tom smiled without humour. ‘Patrick came over for the wedding, but when he saw Julia he told her how he felt, and then of course she realised she couldn’t go through with marrying me. She said she was sorry,’ he added expressionlessly.
The look in his eyes made Imogen want to cry. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry,’ she said helplessly.
‘It’s probably all for the best,’ said Tom briskly. ‘Better for Julia to realise that she was making a mistake now than after the wedding. At least it’s saved us the hassle-and cost!-of a divorce.’
That would have been an admission of failure too. Either way, Julia would have made him look a loser.
And Tom was a winner. He didn’t like losing. He never had.
He picked up his pen, almost as if he intended to get on with some work, but put it down again after a moment. The truth was, he didn’t know how to deal with this. He was too angry and humiliated to work, but what else could he do?
Imogen swallowed. Tom wasn’t the kind of man who went in for emotional displays but she knew how hard he must be hurting. He had tried so hard to be what Julia wanted.
‘What can I do?’ she asked.
‘I’d be grateful if you would deal with telling everyone who needs to know.’ The curtn
ess in Tom’s voice didn’t quite disguise his gratitude that she was going to stick to practicalities.
‘Of course.’
‘Here’s the key to Julia’s apartment. She left it with me last night.’
He pushed a key across the desk. Imogen recognised it from when she had arranged the short-term lease of the flat. Julia had wanted somewhere to stay where she could keep her wedding dress secret from Tom.
At the time, Imogen had rolled her eyes at the extravagance, which seemed to be taking tradition to extremes, but now she marvelled that she hadn’t seen the separate apartment as a warning sign. If Julia had been really in love with Tom, she wouldn’t have been able to wait to move in with him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the space. Imogen had been to his penthouse flat in the Docklands to collect some papers once, and there had been more than enough room to hide a dozen wedding dresses if necessary.
‘The flat is full of presents that will need to be returned. Presumably you’ve got a list of guests?’
Imogen nodded. ‘I’ll make sure they all know the wedding has been cancelled.’
‘You’d better deal with Stavely Castle first.’
‘I’ll do that.’ She got to her feet and hesitated, looking at him with concern. With anyone else, she would have offered the comfort of a hug, but she didn’t think Tom would welcome a gesture like that. He wasn’t a tactile man.
Still, this would be a devastating blow for a man of his pride. Imogen wished she could do something to help him, but she sensed the best thing she could do was deal with the practicalities and make as little fuss as possible.
She couldn’t go without saying something, though. ‘Will you be all right?’ she asked after a moment.
‘Of course,’ he said, as brusque as ever. ‘I’ve got plenty to do.’
‘You’re not really going to work, are you?’
‘What else is there to do?’ he said and even he could hear the bleakness in his voice.
Imogen came back a little while later with coffee and a couple of biscuits.
‘I never eat biscuits,’ said Tom, glancing up from his computer screen as she set them solicitously at his elbow.
‘You should have something to eat.’
‘I’m not an invalid, Imogen!’
‘You’ve had a shock,’ she said. ‘You need the sugar.’
‘I don’t need anything!’ The suggestion of neediness always caught Tom on the raw and he glared at Imogen. ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ he snapped. ‘There’s no need to treat me as if I’m about to faint or burst into tears.’
‘Eat them anyway,’ said Imogen, who thought it might be better if he did.
Tom Maddison was a difficult man to help. What was the point of pretending that you didn’t have feelings? He had retreated behind an even more ferocious mask than usual, bottling it all up inside, and was clearly going to lash out at anyone who dared to suggest that he might be hurt, or angry, or in need of comfort.
Well, she would just have to be lashed, Imogen decided. She had been spared Tom’s public humiliation, but she knew what it was like to realise that the person you loved didn’t love you back and never had. It hurt. It hurt a lot and, although no one could endure it for you, it helped to have someone by your side to see you through it.
Tom would never admit that he needed anyone, but he did.
Imogen wished she knew more about his private life. If only there was a friend she could call, someone who would come and be there for Tom, the way Amanda had been there for her. But it looked as if it was just her.
She transferred her notebook from under her arm and flicked it open. For now, she would stick with the practicalities.
‘I’ve spoken to the Castle, and cancelled all the arrangements there. I’m afraid that, at this stage, there’s no question of any refunds,’ she added apologetically.
‘God, what a waste of money!’ Tom threw himself back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of the cost. He hadn’t begrudged paying for Julia’s increasingly extravagant ideas, but what had been the point of it all? He had let Julia have whatever she wanted.
He hadn’t realised the only thing she really wanted was Patrick.
‘Then there’s the honeymoon…’
Imogen hesitated about raising the matter of the honeymoon, but that had been booked and paid for too, and Tom would have to make some decision. The cost of Coconut Island was phenomenal. It would make a dent in even Tom’s bank account, surely.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Tom, taking a biscuit without quite realising what he was doing. ‘You said it was somewhere you’d love to go,’ he reminded her.
Imogen squirmed. ‘I’m sorry it turned out to be so expensive.’
But really, how was she to know Julia would turn her back on the wedding of her dreams, the holiday of a lifetime and a man like Tom? Julia must really love Patrick to give up all that, she reflected. ‘I’ll see if it’s possible to get some money back, at least.’
If it had been her own holiday, she would have taken out insurance, but it had never occurred to her to think it would be an issue for Tom.
‘I’ll get on to the agents and see what the cancellation terms are,’ she said.
‘Don’t do that,’ said Tom, brushing biscuit crumbs from his fingers and making up his mind. ‘I don’t want you to cancel the trip.’
Imogen looked at him in concern. Surely he wasn’t planning to go anyway? It would be a disaster. Every time he turned round he would be reminded that Julia wasn’t there.
‘I’m not sure it’s a great idea for you to go on your own,’ she said cautiously.
‘I’m not planning to go on my own,’ he said. ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve wasted enough money on the wedding. I’ve spent a bloody fortune on that island, and I’m not going to waste that too. You said you’d like to go there. Well, now’s your chance.’
‘But…it’s booked as a honeymoon,’ stammered Imogen. ‘Everyone would assume that we were married.’
‘Who’s going to know, or care?’ Tom countered. ‘They’re only interested in my money. It’s not as if they’re going to ask to see the marriage certificate when we check in.’
‘Well, no, but…’ Imogen looked at him despairingly. Couldn’t he see how awkward it would be? ‘I booked it as a honeymoon, so they might make a fuss when we arrive.’
‘Let them,’ said Tom. ‘Surely the whole point of the exercise was that we would have complete privacy? This isn’t some B &B where we’d have no choice but to share a bed. At least, it had better not be for the price I’m paying for it!’ he added caustically. ‘OK, we may have to bluff it on arrival, but after that we should have a whole island to ourselves and no one will know that we’re not spending our whole time having sex.’
Imogen was mortified to feel her cheeks burning. Honestly, anyone would think she had never heard the word sex before! But somehow Tom talking about it made it all too easy to imagine Tom doing it.
She forced the image aside, not without some difficulty.
‘You make it all sound so reasonable,’ she protested.
‘Because it is reasonable. It’s a practical solution to the problem, and would be a good thing for both of us. What’s not reasonable about that?’
Imogen fiddled with her pen and tried to imagine what it would be like to go on holiday with her boss. ‘It would still be a bit…intimate,’ she said at last.
‘I don’t see why-’ Tom stopped as it occurred to him, somewhat belatedly, that Imogen might have a personal life of her own. He knew that she wasn’t married, but there might be a man on the scene, and that might complicate matters.
He frowned. ‘Are you worried about what a boyfriend might think?’
‘It’s not that,’ said Imogen. ‘There isn’t anyone else at the moment.’
‘Even better then,’ said Tom, relieved. ‘That means no one has any excuse to feel jealous or upset.’
‘Maybe not, but there’ll be plenty of people who’ll speculate about why we’re going on holiday together.’
Tom scowled. ‘Who on earth is going to care?’
‘The entire staff of Collocom for a start, I should think.’
‘What business is it of theirs what we do?’
‘None, of course, but that’s not going to stop them wondering. I’d wonder what was going on if my boss and his secretary disappeared to a tropical island for three weeks!’
‘Tell them it’s a business trip,’ Tom said indifferently.
‘Oh, yes, like they’ll believe that!’
‘Frankly, I’m not concerned with what they do and don’t believe,’ he said with a dismissive gesture. ‘The fact is that it will be a business trip. We’ll have a whole island between us. We can take our laptops, and if we’ve got access to the Internet there’s no reason why we shouldn’t get on with some work.’
Imogen looked dubious. ‘Do you think there’ll be an Internet connection?’ she asked, even as she realised that she had been lured into discussing details before they had really dealt with the issue at hand.
‘At that price there certainly ought to be!’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, still doubtful. ‘I can’t imagine many people hire a private island to work. It’s meant as a romantic hideaway,’ she reminded him. ‘I don’t think the idea is that you spend your time checking email.’
‘Then you’d better find out,’ said Tom, ‘because I have no intention of cutting myself off from work for three weeks. It’ll be a good chance to catch up on a few projects without the distraction of endless meetings.’
Pushing back his chair, he got to his feet and prowled over to the window, where he stood looking out at the sleety rain that splattered against the glass. ‘We might as well get something out of this whole fiasco.’
Imogen bit her lip as she regarded his back. Silhouetted against the window, he looked massive and solitary. Internet access, or lack of it, wasn’t the problem here.
‘Are you sure you’ve thought this through?’ she asked carefully.
Tom kept his gaze on the rain. ‘What do you mean?’
