Breaking the Boss’s Rules

by Nina Milne

  Imogen blinked. ‘Your ex-girlfriend is Leila Wentworth? The woman who is engaged to the son of one of the planet’s richest men?’

  She and Mel and most of the country had discussed the wedding, marvelling over Leila’s blonde beauty and the entire rags-to-riches Cinderella story, with an element of superhero thrown in. Howard had rescued Leila in an alleyway, where she had been on the verge of being robbed, and their relationship had grown and flourished from there—to the point where now they were planning a three-day wedding extravaganza in the Algarve.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yeah, wow.’ The sarcastic inflexion was accompanied by a lip-curl.

  Obviously Joe was less than entranced by the prospect. In which case …

  ‘It is kind of weird that she has asked you, but maybe she has literally invited everyone she has ever known. If you don’t feel comfortable my advice is not to go.’

  Difficult to believe he hadn’t worked that out for himself.

  Joe shook his head. A faint colour touched his cheekbones and a shadow fleeted across his eyes. ‘There’s more to it than that. It’s …’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘I need to go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter why.’

  ‘Even though you don’t want to?’

  Impossible to believe that Joe would attend any function he didn’t want to. Confusion along with a hint of foreboding threaded through her tummy.

  ‘I don’t have a problem going. The problem is that Leila has started sending me emails on a daily basis.’

  ‘Saying what?’

  Joe expelled a sigh, and for a moment he looked so bewildered she felt an irrational misplaced urge to lean over and smooth the creases from his forehead.

  ‘Saying how important love is and how I must learn to embrace it—how important it is to find the person of your dreams. Pages and pages of it.’

  ‘So how have you replied?’

  ‘I tell her that my life is very happy as it is, but thanks for the advice. But the emails keep on coming.’

  The woman sounded unhinged—which begged the question: why was Joe going along with her?

  ‘I’m not getting this. What happened to being ruthless? Tell her to get knotted and say that you have your love-life perfectly under control.’

  ‘I can’t do that.’ Joe shifted in his seat, discomfort clear in the set of his jaw and in the frown that slashed his forehead. ‘This is important to her—I just need to figure out why.’

  Realisation dawned with a sense of inevitability that stuck in her craw. Joe was hung up on an ex-girlfriend. What was it about her that attracted men who held ten-foot torches for old lovers?

  ‘You OK?’ Joe asked.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  What else could she say? All she’d wanted from Joe was a great night between the sheets. He’d given her that—it made no difference if he’d harboured feelings for an ex whilst he did so. Yet somehow … Damn it, it did. Bad enough that he regretted the night—now the attraction was even further sullied. But that wasn’t Joe’s problem. It was hers. She’d offered her insight and she’d make good on that.

  ‘Absolutely fine. What did today’s email say? Obviously she’s upped the ante or you wouldn’t need my input.’

  ‘Today’s email informs me that Leila has lined me up with a series of potential girlfriends because she wants me to—’ he hooked his fingers in the air to indicate quote marks ‘—”find true love and embrace the peace and inner tranquillity that this true love will bring”.’ He snorted and pushed away from the table. ‘Little wonder I’m a bit green about the gills.’

  Imogen frowned—why on earth would Leila want to set Joe up with a friend of hers? Come to that, why was she so worried about Joe’s love life?

  Joe exhaled a sigh. ‘No way do I want to face a line-up of women, all trying to bring me to a sense of inner tranquillity. Come to that, it would hardly be fair to them. I’m not on the looking-for-love market.’

  ‘Just don’t go. That way the line-up can’t get you.’

  ‘It’s not that’s simple, Imogen.’ He tipped his palms in the air. ‘If Steve and Simone ask you to their wedding will you go?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For a start my mum and Steve’s mum are friends—or at least they went to school together. So no doubt my parents will go, and Mum will want me to go so that everyone can see that I’m OK. And Steve and I were together only recently—we share lots of mutual friends and I guess I’ll want to show them that I’m not licking my wounds somewhere. So it’s a matter of parental pressure and pride. That’s not the case for you.’

  ‘But it is important to you that everyone thinks you’re OK?’

  ‘Well, yes …’

  ‘It’s important to me to see that Leila is OK. And I need her to believe that I am OK.’

  The words shouldn’t hurt as much as they did—yet each one impacted her chest with meaning. Joe was still in love with Leila, but he was willing to stand aside and watch her go to her true love. Leila knew Joe still loved her and was doing her best to get him to move on. Any minute now Imogen would need a bucket.

  ‘If it’s important to Leila that you find love then I guess you’d better find a woman, fall in love and take her to the wedding.’

  Then perhaps as a finale everyone could watch a herd of flying pigs perform a musical.

  ‘Don’t be sil—’

  Joe broke off, leant back in the stylish boardroom chair, and surveyed her with a thoughtful expression that set alarm bells off in her mind. The last thing she wanted was for Joe to suspect her state of mind—hell, she wasn’t sure she understood it herself yet. She just knew she was sick and tired of hearing about men and their love for their exes. Been there. Done that. And it was getting old.

  To her relief the intercom buzzed to herald the arrival of the pizza.

  Joe lifted a hand. ‘Just give me a second. I’ll grab the pizzas.’

  ‘OK.’

  Imogen had no intention of taking this conversation further. Joe would have to figure this one out on his own. Maybe he should storm the wedding and declare his love. After all, surely he wasn’t the sort of man to stand aside and let the love of his life marry someone else without a fight.

  It was nothing to do with her. Yet the insidious feeling of yuck still made her skin clammy. It seemed every which way she was doomed to being second-best.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JOE HANDED SOME money over to the pizza delivery boy and balanced the boxes on both hands as he strode back to the boardroom, his brain whirring as he analysed his idea from all angles.

  He pushed the door open and glanced round. Imogen sat at her laptop, intent on the screen, her hair hiding her expression from him, body tilted away from the door.

  ‘Pizza’s up.’ Joe walked to the other end of the boardroom, put the boxes on the table and lifted the lids.

  Twisting away from the screen, she narrowed her eyes and stared at the pizza.

  Joe frowned. ‘Has Richard called? Is something wrong?’

  There must be some reason for her obvious withdrawal.

  ‘Nope and nope.’

  ‘Come on, Imo.’ Two sisters had taught him exactly when nope meant Yes—I’m really pissed off.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Great. Then would it be OK if we keep talking?’

  Pulling out a slice of pizza, he took a bite.

  ‘Mmm …’

  She gave a roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh that blew her fringe upwards … but she rose from her seat and headed over with the instinctive grace that he loved to watch.

  She picked up the box. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. You asked for my advice. I gave it. You won’t listen to it. Topic closed.’

  ‘I’ve got a proposition for you.’

  ‘For me?’ Eyebrows raised, she halted in mid turn away from the table.

  ‘Yup. You come to Leila’s wedding with me and I’l
l come to Steve’s wedding with you.’ He allowed his lips to quirk upwards in his most persuasive smile.

  ‘That’s a joke, right?’

  ‘Nope.’ He tilted his palms upward. ‘It’s the perfect solution.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware I had a problem.’

  ‘Think about it, Imogen. You said you wanted to go to Steve’s wedding and show everyone you’re over him. What better way than to take a man with you? You can present me however you like. As a man you’re enjoying a wild, uninhibited affair with or as a boyfriend—either way, it should give everyone the message that you’re over him.’

  ‘I may have a bona fide date of my own by then. Either a sex god or the perfect man.’

  ‘Maybe you will.’ The idea was not one he wanted to contemplate or encourage. ‘But most likely you won’t.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because it’s going to take you at least a year to find a man who ticks all the boxes on your list. That or a miracle.’

  ‘Really?’ Her voice would have created ice in a desert.

  ‘Anyway, the point is you can help me and I can help you. You come to Leila’s wedding and you’ll be showing people you’re already over Steve. In style.’

  For a second he thought he had her, and then she shook her head and redirected that laser look at him.

  ‘So I can help you how, exactly?’

  ‘It’s simple. I take you, we pretend to be in love—that will make Leila believe I’m OK and I’ll be safe from the line-up of women.’

  It was genius. As long as he ignored the small voice that pointed out that it would mean spending three days and nights with Imogen Lorrimer.

  Not a problem. After all, they had already had one night together—he’d already broken Rule One. It was inconceivable that he would break Rule Two. Even if Imogen wanted to—and he was damn sure she didn’t.

  ‘So I’ll be camouflage?’

  There was an edge to her voice that indicated Imogen was failing to see the mastermind qualities of the idea. But he really couldn’t see her issue. It had been her suggestion that had sparked the idea in the first place.

  ‘Yes.’

  She slammed the pizza box down on the table with a thunk. ‘Can you not see how insulting that is?’

  ‘Insulting to whom?’

  ‘Me!’

  Joe stared at her; her blue-grey eyes sparkled with anger and her hands were clenched into small fists. ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘You really can’t see it, can you? I stupidly told you about Steve and Simone, but you still don’t get it.’

  ‘So why don’t you calm down and explain it?’

  ‘Fine. You—’ a slender finger was jabbed towards his chest ‘—still love Leila. You don’t want Leila to know you’re holding a torch the size of the Empire State Building for her but, believe you me, it’s obvious—and she knows it. If I come with you everyone will watch you mooning over Leila and feel sorry for me for being second-best. Or however far down the list I come in your table of one-night stands. So, thanks—but no thanks. I am not coming along to be an object of pity.’

  Anger that Imogen would believe he was such an insensitive jerk clawed at his chest. ‘That is the most stupid analysis of the situation imaginable.’

  ‘Hah! Face the truth. You are nothing more than an insensitive arrogant bastard with his head up his bum. Well, you can find some other sucker. Hell, seems like I’ve been second-best or not up to scratch all my life. I’m not doing it again. No freaking way!’

  His vocal cords appeared to have stopped working in the face of her torrent of words. Before he could find so much as a syllable her phone buzzed.

  Tugging it out of her pocket, she looked down at the screen and the angry flush leeched from her skin. ‘It’s Richard.’

  Joe raked a hand over his face and attempted to locate his professional business head. ‘Pick it up. And put him on loudspeaker.’

  Imogen hauled in an audible breath, pressed a button and lifted the phone. She wrapped one arm around her stomach and said, ‘Hi, Richard. Imogen speaking.’

  Looking down, Joe realised his knuckles had whitened as he grasped the table edge—he couldn’t remember the last time a business deal had mattered this much to him.

  Imogen rocked to and fro on the balls of her feet, her face scrunched into creases of worry, and Joe felt his anger dissipate—to be replaced by a deep, almost painful hope that they’d won this proposal.

  ‘I’m grand.’ Richard’s voice boomed. ‘Thank you for your proposal. Crystal and I have discussed it, and Graham’s, and …’

  Joe watched as Imogen caught her lower lip in her teeth, felt his gut lurch in sympathy.

  ‘Yours came in more expensive …’

  Her shoulders slumped and Joe rose to his feet, striding around the table to take the phone, see if he could negotiate.

  ‘But we absolutely loved the premise so we’ve decided to go with you.’

  ‘Yes!’

  He could feel the grin take over his face as he heard the words, saw the smile that illuminated Imogen’s features as the conversation continued.

  ‘Th … thank you so much, Richard. Absolutely. Yes. I’ll get a contract across to you as soon as the office opens for business.’

  Dropping the phone onto the table, she fist-pumped the air before doing a twirl—he could almost see the elation fizzing off her and it made his chest warm.

  ‘Congratulations. You did good.’

  ‘We did good. They loved it. I mean really loved it. You heard Richard—he said the idea was inspirational and that the sketches made him feel like he was living and breathing France. He also said that the proposal was balanced by a sensible and realistic budget that showed him we’d done our homework. We gave better value for money and showed a much better understanding of what they wanted.’

  Another twirl and she ended up right next to him, so close that her delicate flowery scent assailed him. So close all he had to do was reach out and …

  Her eyes widened as she looked up at him—and then she jumped backwards, shaking her head.

  ‘I … I … need to let Peter and Harry know, and—’

  ‘It’s one a.m., Imogen. Best to wait until morning.’

  ‘Of course … Um … well, thank you, Joe. I truly mean that.’

  One long blink and then she smoothed her hands down her jeans, the rise and fall of her chest distracting him as she breathed deeply. Once, twice, thrice.

  ‘Sorry I got a bit heated earlier. I hope that you work it out with Leila and the wedding goes all right.’

  ‘Whoa. Not so fast.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean we hadn’t finished our conversation. I thought you’d just hit your groove, in fact.’

  ‘Yes, well … Probably a good thing we were interrupted. Before I screeched along in my groove and got myself fired.’

  Affront panged inside him. ‘I wouldn’t fire you because of a personal argument.’

  Her nose wrinkled in obvious disbelief. ‘Um … good to know. But as far as I am concerned the topic is over.’

  ‘Think again. I am not still in love with Leila.’ The idea was laughable, even if he didn’t feel like cracking so much as a smile. ‘You will not be seen as second-best.’

  Imogen huffed out a sigh. ‘It’s not going to fly, Joe. You’re kidding yourself if you truly believe you’re not carrying a flaming torch for her. There is no other explanation. No girlfriend since Leila. Just one-night stands. An aversion to relationships. Going to her wedding to make her happy. Wanting her to believe you’re OK. Willing to lie and undergo an elaborate charade rather than say no to her.’

  For a second, shock had him bereft of speech—he could see exactly why Imogen had added up two and two and got approximately a million. But now what? It wouldn’t be easy to convince her of her utter miscalculation without telling her a lot more than he wanted to share.

  Joe drummed his fingers on his thigh as he
weighed up just how badly he needed Imogen’s cooperation. Damn it—he couldn’t come up with a better solution to the whole Leila issue than to take Imogen to the wedding.

  Bottom line: he needed her on board.

  Though it was more than that—truth be told, he didn’t want to feature in Imogen’s brain as a man hung up on his ex. The idea of being lumped together with a git like Steve left an acrid tang. If he wanted to bring utter honesty to the table he could see that Imogen was hurt, and that made his skin prickle in discomfort.

  So he would have to tell her the truth.

  ‘I’m not holding a torch for Leila. Truth is, I owe her.’

  ‘Owe her what?’ Imogen’s brow creased.

  Guilt panged inside him at his past behaviour; discomfort gnawed his chest at the thought of the man he had been. Come on, McIntyre. No truth … no lifeline at the wedding from hell.

  ‘Leila and I met nine years ago at uni.’ A lifetime ago. ‘We started going out.’

  The cool surfing dude and the hot surfer chick. Tension shot down his spine.

  ‘Then two years later my parents died in a car crash.’

  Imogen stilled, her eyes widening in shock as she stretched her hand across the table. He let it lie. He needed to focus on getting the facts out—there was no need for sympathy along the way.

  ‘Joe. I am so sorry. I had no idea. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. But it must have been devastating for you. For you all. Your sisters …’

  ‘It was a difficult time.’ Not that he had any intention of going into detail; the lid was not coming off that buried box of emotions. ‘For me, for the twins, and for Leila as well.’

  Imogen frowned. ‘Difficult for Leila how?’

  ‘I made it difficult. I had to grow up fast and I put pressure on her to do the same.’

  ‘The twins?’

  ‘Yes. It got complicated. Holly and Tammy were eleven; I was twenty-one.’ Twenty-one with a promising surfing career ahead—not exactly parent-equivalent material. ‘There were no relatives on the scene so Social Services intervened, questioned whether I could look after them or whether they would be better off in care.’ The taste of remembered fear that his sisters would be wrested from him coated his throat. ‘Obviously there was no way I could let them go but … that was tough for Leila to understand.’