by Jessica Hart
‘What was it?’ Tom had his voice under better control. At least she was covered by the towel now, not that it made that much difference. The image of her body was still vivid after he had stared like a grubby schoolboy. He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, mortified by the memory.
‘I don’t know,’ said Imogen. ‘I didn’t stop to inspect it. It felt disgusting, whatever it was.’
Tom went over to turn the shower off. It gave him a good excuse to look away from Imogen, if nothing else. ‘Probably a cockroach,’ he said. ‘Yes, there he is.’ He pointed at the corner, where something dark and shiny lurked, antennae waving malevolently.
Imogen peered nervously round Tom’s shoulder. ‘Ugh! It’s horrible!’
‘It probably doesn’t think too much of you either after you trod on it.’ Tom was finding it hard to concentrate with her so close to him. ‘Do you want me to get rid of it for you?’
‘Would you?’ said Imogen gratefully. She had been wondering how to ask him to do just that without sounding pathetic.
Tom stepped towards the cockroach but it was too quick for him. It dashed for the other wall, and its sudden scuttle made Imogen squeak and jump back. The movement loosened the wretched towel, which promptly started to unwind.
‘Oh-!’ Imogen only just managed to bite back a curse as she grabbed the towel in the nick of time.
Fortunately Tom didn’t notice. He was too busy following the cockroach around the bathroom, but the faster he stamped, the quicker the insect moved and the more he missed. He muttered furiously under his breath as his shoes rang uselessly on the tiled floor. No cockroach was going to get the better of Tom Maddison!
He looked so ridiculous, stamping around the shower in frustration, and the situation was so bizarre, that Imogen’s sense of humour began to get the better of her. It might have been tiredness, or an edge of hysteria, but she could feel laughter bubbling up inside her.
‘Gosh,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know you could do flamenco.’
Distracted, Tom stopped in mid-stamp. ‘What?’
‘A ruthless businessman and a hot dancer.’ Imogen’s expression was innocent as she nodded at his feet. ‘You’ve got to admit, it’s quite a combination!’
For a moment Tom could only stare at her. The light was dim but it was enough to see the mischief glimmering in her eyes. A smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth, and all at once he realised how comical he must look, chasing an insect around the shower, watched by his PA, who was utterly naked beneath that skimpy towel.
Did anyone enjoy looking stupid? Tom certainly never had before but, in spite of his exasperation, he felt an answering smile twitch his lips. What an absurd situation to find himself in, but perhaps it was a fitting ending for what should have been his wedding day. It might have started in tragedy, but it was ending in farce.
Without thinking, he lifted his arms, snapped his fingers and stamped his heel dramatically. ‘Olé!’ he cried, striking a pose.
It was Imogen’s turn to stare, startled by his uncharacteristic lapse into absurdity, and then they both started to laugh at the same time.
They laughed and they laughed, until they were both almost doubled up. It wasn’t that funny, but at some level both were aware that their laughter came as much from the release from some unspoken tension as from the humour of the situation.
‘Oh dear,’ gasped Imogen at last, mopping her eyes with the edge of the towel. ‘I think I needed that!’
‘And, after all of that, the cockroach has legged it,’ Tom realised, looking around the room, as Imogen started to giggle again.
He was feeling a bit odd. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that-laughed uncontrollably. Usually, the whole notion of being out of control made him uncomfortable, but now, when he looked at Imogen, it wasn’t the scariness of losing control he was thinking about.
It was Imogen’s face, still alight with laughter.
It was Imogen’s body, beneath the towel that kept slipping dangerously.
He should go before she lost grip of it completely, Tom decided.
‘You can have that shower now,’ he told her, and then cocked an eyebrow at her hesitation. ‘Unless you’d prefer to use the one inside?’
‘I would, of course, but then you would think that I’m really pathetic.’
‘What, because you’re afraid of a little cockroach? Never!’
Imogen made a face at him. ‘See, I knew you’d say that! If I went to the other bathroom, I’d never be able to hold up my head again.’
‘I won’t say another word,’ promised Tom, holding up his hands.
‘No, no, I’m determined to shower here now. I’m a big, brave girl now, especially as I know that all it takes to see off a cockroach is a bit of bad dancing!’
He smiled as he turned to leave. ‘I’ll leave you to it then. Scream if you need me.’
She wouldn’t be screaming again, but she needed him, all right. She needed him to go back to being her brusque, irritable boss, thought Imogen, dropping the towel and stretching out her hand to test the temperature of the water. She needed him to stop smiling like that. She needed him to put his suit back on and make her forget that he had that great body.
Imogen had looked forward to the shower, but as she stood under the cascade of warm water she found herself thinking, not about how good it felt to wash the sun and the salt out of her hair but about Tom, and how he had laughed.
Who would have thought that the coolly calculating Tom Maddison would play the fool like that? Imogen smiled as she remembered him striking that flamenco dancer’s pose and shouting olé! He might have been a different man entirely from the one who barked instructions down the phone or wished her a curt good morning as he strode through her office in London.
This Tom had an unexpectedly wide smile with good teeth, and when he had thrown back his head and laughed, his eyes had creased and the harsh lines of his face had been transformed by amusement. Imogen felt something disturbing start to uncoil inside her at the mere memory, and she shivered uneasily.
The truth was that she was more afraid of that feeling than of the cockroach coming back.
And there was no point going there, she reminded herself sternly. This should have been Tom’s wedding day, remember? It should have been Julia standing here, feeling her skin tingle with that heady mixture of sea water and slightly too much sun.
Imogen was fairly sure that Julia wouldn’t have screamed at the sight of a cockroach. Or, if she had, she wouldn’t have stood there stark naked while those glacial grey eyes swept over her.
But then, of course, Julia would be used to Tom looking at her, Imogen reflected glumly as she dressed. In fact, Julia wouldn’t have been showering alone, would she? Tom would have been in there with her, and they would have been too busy making love under that glorious cascade of water to notice a whole parade of cockroaches.
Imogen’s cheeks burned at the thought. How awful for Tom to see her instead of Julia at every turn, to have come face to face with his naked PA, whose body could most kindly be described as curvaceous, instead of Julia’s slender, perfect beauty. It must have been a horrible shock for him.
Still, she was glad that they had been able to laugh together like that. It felt as if everything had changed now. At least the awkwardness of finding themselves alone together had passed. Of course, there could be few things more embarrassing than your boss catching you stark naked, but there was no point in being shy after that, Imogen decided philosophically. The change in the atmosphere was worth the humiliation.
CHAPTER FIVE
I MOGEN felt quite positive as she dressed, in spite of knowing that her pale aqua sundress was a far cry from the perfect sexy, stylish outfit that Julia would inevitably have had to slip into after her shower. But it would just have to do. OK, so it looked cheap and a little crumpled in these luxurious surroundings, but it might not be a bad thing to have a reminder that she could loll all she wanted in the lagoon bu
t she would always be out of place in these fabulous surroundings.
It wouldn’t do to start thinking that the fact that she was here with Tom was anything other than a face-saving measure. He was a successful businessman; she was a temp. He took this kind of designer luxury for granted; her style was cheap, cheery and chain-store. It would be very foolish of her to forget that.
On the other hand, since she was here, she might as well make the best of it. Now they had broken the tension with laughter, perhaps they could at least be friends for the next three weeks. She was never going to replace the svelte, sophisticated Julia, but she could be a friend, even if it was only a temporary one.
Temporary secretary, temporary friend…When would she ever settle to anything permanent? Imogen wondered wistfully.
Not until she was sure that what she had was perfect, she reminded herself firmly.
In the meantime, she was in the middle of the Indian Ocean, on an idyllic island with a man who needed a friend right now. That would be enough, she told herself.
An image of Tom in his swimming shorts flickered distractingly in her brain, but Imogen forced her mind away from thoughts of that lean, tautly muscled body.
Away from the image of his hands.
Of his mouth.
From the memory of how he had looked when he was laughing.
Friends would be enough for now.
Slipping her feet into her favourite sequinned flip-flops, Imogen went out to find Tom.
He was waiting for her on the veranda, his feet up on the railing and a beer in his hand, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him.
‘Better?’ he asked as he saw her.
‘Much, thank you.’
Tom swung his legs down. ‘Would you like a drink?’
He made her a gin and tonic. It was deliciously cold and refreshing, and Imogen sipped it appreciatively as she leant against the railing.
It looked as if she had missed a glorious sunset while she was in the shower. She could see through the coconut palms to where the lagoon gleamed dark and still, and beyond to a vivid streak of crimson along the horizon. Unseen insects were working themselves up into a frenzy of creaking and whirring and sawing and rasping in the tangled foliage, and the air was hot and heavy with the intense scents of the tropical night.
Suddenly something swooped in front of her, and she straightened in surprise. ‘Was that a bird?’
‘A bat, I think.’
Imogen wrinkled her nose. ‘First cockroaches, now bats…Somehow this isn’t how I imagined paradise!’ she said dryly as she watched the creatures, darting and diving through the hot dark air.
‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid of bats too?’
‘Of course not,’ she said, shooting him a look. ‘I’m not afraid of cockroaches either,’ she said, not entirely truthfully. ‘I know I screamed, but it was just a shock seeing it there. I wasn’t expecting it,’ she finished lamely.
Tom looked down at his beer and reflected that he knew how she had felt. He hadn’t been expecting to see her without any clothes on either, and that had been just as much of a shock, if in a different way.
‘About earlier,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, bursting in like that.’
‘That’s OK. I’m glad you were there. I would never have been able to scare that cockroach away by myself.’ Her smile glimmered. ‘My flamenco dancing isn’t up to much!’
The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted at the reminder of what had set them laughing. He was glad Imogen had mentioned it. When she had appeared, looking lush and glowing after her shower, her hair falling damply to her shoulders, he had wondered if the idea that had come to him while she was showering might be asking for trouble, but now the constraint had eased he decided to put it to her after all.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he began.
‘Oh?’
He gestured around him. ‘This place…it’s much more intimate than I was expecting.’
‘It’s meant for honeymooners,’ Imogen pointed out. ‘It would be surprising if it wasn’t intimate.’
‘I know,’ said Tom with just a touch of his old irritability. ‘I wasn’t thinking clearly.’
‘That’s understandable,’ she said, instantly feeling guilty. ‘None of this can be easy for you.’
‘The thing is…’ Tom frowned, wondering how best to put it. ‘We’ve got three weeks here,’ he began again. ‘The chances are that we’re going to find ourselves in more embarrassing situations when there’s just the two of us.
‘I thought with it being a whole island we’d have more space,’ he tried to explain himself. It had all seemed so obvious when he was working it out in his mind, but it felt more difficult with Imogen’s eyes on his face. He was no good at this kind of stuff. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be talking about his feelings.
‘As it is, we’re going to be effectively living together for the next three weeks,’ he ploughed on. ‘That’s going to be awkward unless we agree to be…I don’t know…normal.’
‘That’s just what I was thinking,’ said Imogen eagerly.
‘I’m just not quite sure what normal is,’ confessed Tom.
‘Let’s be friends. Just temporary ones, of course,’ she added quickly in case he thought she was trying to take advantage of Julia’s departure.
‘Temporary?’
‘Well, it would be difficult to go back to working together if we were friends, wouldn’t it?’
‘Perhaps,’ he acknowledged. There was no use pretending it wouldn’t be awkward, anyway.
‘But, in any case, I’m leaving soon,’ Imogen went on, ‘so I won’t be around much longer.’
‘Leaving?’ Tom asked, startled. ‘Why?’
‘I’m going to travel,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been outside Europe before. I’ve always wanted to go to India, so I’m going to start there and make my way down through South-East Asia to Australia, and I hope that on the way I’ll decide what it is I really want to do with my life.’
Now that she had finally given up dreaming of Andrew.
Tom was frowning. ‘I didn’t know about this.’
‘That’s why I’m temping,’ said Imogen. ‘Didn’t you know? I’m only filling in until you appoint a properly qualified executive PA.’
He had known that, of course. He just hadn’t wanted to think about it. He had been too busy steering Collocom away from the rocks to take the time to choose the right person. Besides, Imogen might not be your classically cool and competent secretary, but she had been managing well enough. There had been no reason to think about replacing her.
‘When’s all this going to happen?’ asked Tom, conscious of an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. That wasn’t dismay, was it?
‘As soon as you appoint a permanent PA. I’ve been saving for nearly a year now, so I’m ready to book my ticket whenever you find the right person. I assumed you were putting it off until after the wedding, but if you interview in April and we have a handover in May, I could be packing my bags in June.’
‘June?’ No mistaking the dismay now! ‘That’s only three months away!’
Imogen nodded. ‘I know, but if it’s awkward when we get back, well, at least it won’t be for long.’
Tom looked out into the night and tried to imagine the office without Imogen. Oh, he’d known she would go one day, but he hadn’t thought it would be so soon. She was as much part of his life as Julia had been, if not more so. He saw Imogen almost every day, after all. It would be strange without her now.
But it wouldn’t be the first time he had had to get used to a new PA, Tom reminded himself, alarmed by the bleak drift of his thoughts. He would be fine.
‘That might work out quite well then,’ he said, conscious that he sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. ‘You’re right, it might be difficult to go back to our old boss/PA relationship after being here, but if you’re leaving soon, that won’t matter.’
‘Exactly,’ said Imog
en, keeping her smile bright.
What had she expected? That Tom would fall to his knees and beg her not to leave him?
No, it would be better this way. There was bound to be speculation at the office when they went back. The sooner she left and got on with her new life, the better, but for now, being friends, even temporary ones, seemed like the best way to get through the next three weeks.
‘So are we agreed?’ she said. ‘As long as we’re here, we’re not boss and PA any more, but just friends?’
There was only the tiniest moment of hesitation, then Tom nodded. ‘Agreed.’
‘Great,’ said Imogen. ‘Now that’s settled, let’s go and see what’s for supper. I’m starving!’
She chatted easily as she set out the delicacies that had been left in the fridge, and Tom found himself almost mesmerised by the readiness with which she was prepared to treat him as a friend. It made him realise how little he had known about her when she was just his PA. He had had no idea that she could be that sharp or that funny, and he watched her as if he had never seen her before as she told him about her friends, about the flat she shared with her friend and the life she led in London, so different from his own.
Suddenly Imogen broke off with a grimace as she listened to her own words. ‘This must all sound so dull to you!’ she said.
‘Actually, it doesn’t,’ said Tom, almost to his own surprise. They had found a bottle of perfectly chilled wine in the fridge, and he leant across the table to top up her glass.
Imogen didn’t believe him, of course. What had she been thinking of, rabbiting on about wine bars and chaotic supper parties and the snap quizzes she and Amanda held to test their embarrassingly wide knowledge of TV soaps? She cringed at the memory.
‘But your life is so much more glamorous!’
She couldn’t imagine Tom sprawled in front of the television, for instance. He and Julia would have gone out to smart restaurants or grand parties. They would have been to the opera or polo matches or the kind of clubs she and Amanda only ever read about in magazines.
‘Is it?’ said Tom. ‘My apartment may be bigger than yours, and I may live in a more exclusive part of town, but I don’t do much when I’m there. I just work.’
