by Nina Milne
‘I think you’ve forgotten something.’
‘What?’
‘It’s a two-way street. You have to look adoringly at me too.’
And she had to remember that this was fake. Needed to dismiss the wistfulness that wisped through her brain at the thought that Leila and Simone got the real McCoy version of the adoring look and she was stuck with the false one.
Joe raised his eyebrows, a small smile playing on his lips, and all thoughts of wistfulness blew away, to be replaced by far more dangerous memories of the havoc those lips could cause.
‘You think I can’t do adoring?’ he asked.
‘I’m finding it hard to imagine.’
‘Watch and learn, Imogen. Watch and learn.’
His cool broad fingers grasped hers and Imogen bit her lip to hold in her gasp. It was their first contact in days and her skin reacted like a parched plant in the depths of the Sahara to rain.
A little flicker of envy ignited in her as they approached Leila—even the stunning photos that graced the celebrity mags hadn’t done her justice. Long blonde hair shimmered under her veil, exotic green eyes lit up as they rested on Joe, and her smile demonstrated the slant of perfect cheekbones and the curve of glossy provocative lips.
‘J!’ she exclaimed in a melodious yet husky voice that fitted the setting perfectly.
Any second now birds would swoop from the sky and land on her and everyone would break into song.
Not that Imogen cared. Much. So who knew why a mixture of jealousy and mortification seared her insides as Leila threw her arms around Joe before stepping back and raising a hand to cup his jaw?
‘It’s so very good to see you, J. I do appreciate you coming.’
Imogen tried not to clench her nails into Joe’s palm and made an attempt to access the voice of reason. Leila was the bride—no way was she hitting on Joe. Or should she say J? All ex-girlfriends didn’t have an agenda to win back their boyfriends. This was closure. Yet … damn it … she wasn’t imagining that proprietorial look on Leila’s face.
Joe stepped back and put an arm around Imogen’s waist, squeezed her against him. ‘Good to see you too, Leila—and congratulations. This is Imogen.’
Imogen blinked—was that Joe’s voice? Low and tender and … well … adoring? As if he were introducing someone special and precious?
The bride’s perfect smile froze a touch—she was sure of it.
‘Imogen. I am so happy to meet you. You and I must have a proper girl-to-girl chat at the reception.’
Well, wouldn’t that be fun? ‘Super,’ Imogen said, managing a smile as they moved along to stand in front of Howard.
‘Joe. My man.’ The groom slapped Joe on the back with what looked like excessive force. ‘Thanks for coming along, dude,’ he said. ‘It means a lot to Leila—which is why I told her of course I didn’t mind. Oh, and from one surfing dude to another—make sure you take your board out while you’re here.’
Joe’s lean body tensed next to hers and Imogen glanced up at him. Surfing dude? Joe was a surfing dude? Could Howard be mixing him up with someone else? There was nothing in Joe’s face to indicate his thoughts; his features could have been carved from granite.
‘Imogen.’ Howard grasped her hands. ‘It is so very nice to meet you and to know that Joe is in good hands. Hope you like the yurt?’
‘It’s—’ Before Imogen could reply she saw Leila’s head turn.
‘But I put Joe and Imogen in the villa, sweetie.’
‘I changed the plan, sugar puff. Paid a bundle for that yurt—shame for it to go to waste.’
A small frown creased Leila’s brow before she smiled her radiant smile. ‘Wonderful idea.’
‘It’s incredible,’ Imogen chipped in, before they moved along to where the bride’s and groom’s parents awaited.
‘Phew …’ She whistled as they walked away from the line. ‘I don’t think you’re exactly Mr Popular—with Howard’s family or Leila’s.’
‘No big surprise, given the way I treated Leila.’
Imogen frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s the problem.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I get the idea they’re worried that Leila still has feelings for you. To be honest, if I was your real girlfriend so would I be.’
Come to that, even as his fake girlfriend she wasn’t happy about the idea.
Joe shook his head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. This is Leila’s wedding day—she hasn’t seen me in seven years. And, believe me, she can’t possibly have any good memories of how we parted.’
‘I suppose.’
Joe had a point—maybe her imagination had gone into overdrive. So affected by Steve’s defection to Simone that she found bugbears where there weren’t any. But …
She shrugged. ‘Well, bear it in mind as a possibility.’
Before Joe could answer Luis waved at them and headed over. ‘It was a beautiful ceremony, yes?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘And now your change of clothes is in the beach huts. If you come this way, and once you have changed please head for the yacht. Women this way—men that way.’
Joe stepped onto the garlanded deck of the yacht and blinked at the dazzling array of glittering disco balls and spinning lights that strobed the deck with multicoloured lights. Men in tuxedos and women in various Bond girl costumes chattered, their voices mingling with the Bond-themed music. As he scanned the crowd for Imogen he realised that he had no idea what she would be wearing. Not that it mattered—he would know her by her stance, her glorious shape, the sweep of her dark hair.
‘You must be Joe,’ a breathy voice proclaimed.
Before he could sidestep her a curvy petite woman had launched herself at him on a wave of overpowering perfume.
‘Oh, my! You’re every bit as gorgeous as Leila said. I’m Katrina. Part of your line-up. I know you’ve come with some other woman, but I wanted you to see what you’re missing, sugar.’
Was she for real? ‘No need, thanks. I’m—’
‘Oh, come on, darlin’ … no man can resist me. Just one little kiss.’
As Katrina pressed her over-glossed lips to his Joe looked over the top of the petite blonde’s head to see Imogen walking straight towards them, her gown a swirl of Bohemian tangerine-orange. Her smile dropped from her lips and she faltered for a heartbeat as she took in the scene. Then her lips tightened, and if she could have lasered him with her glare he’d be dead by now.
Taking Katrina firmly by the arms, he hoisted her away from him.
‘I’m taken,’ he finished.
Katrina turned on one stiletto heel and gave a little giggle. ‘Dear me. Caught red-handed. Catch you later, Joe honey.’
‘Why don’t you chase after her, Joe honey?’ Imogen asked.
The cool sarcasm caught him on the raw. Surely she didn’t believe he’d instigated that interlude?
‘Don’t mind me.’
‘I don’t want to chase after her. That was Katrina. One of the line-up you’re here to protect me from.’
‘Didn’t look to me as though you needed protection at all.’ Imogen emitted a mirthless laugh as she gestured to his pants pocket. ‘Apart from the type that comes in foil packets. And no doubt you’ve got plenty of those handy in your wallet.’
A flash of anger stabbed him as he leant back against the railings. Did she really think so little of him?
‘You don’t think you’re overreacting a touch?’
‘I’m the one who found you with a woman draped all over you, her tongue practically stuck down your throat. And you think I’m overreacting?’
‘Yes, I do. Nice imagery. Even better point: Katrina was draped over me—believe me, short of dodging her and letting her fall flat on her face there wasn’t much I could do.’
‘Oh, please. That is ridiculous—a big, strong man like you couldn’t defend himself? I’m sure you have plenty of moves to avoid women of all shapes and sizes, and Katrina is hardly wrestler material. F
rom where I was standing you looked pretty happy.’
Shaking her head so that the orange flowers woven into her hair vibrated, she hoisted her palms in a get-away-from-me gesture.
‘I cannot believe I could have been so stupid as to come to this wedding with you. I actually bought that whole spiel you gave me.’
What the hell …?
‘Spiel? It wasn’t a spiel. I told you the truth.’ Which hadn’t exactly been a picnic for him.
‘Hah! I just had the dubious pleasure of witnessing “the truth”.’
Frustration mixed with bewilderment and he expelled a sigh. ‘Imogen. If I wanted to get involved with Katrina why would I have brought you to the wedding at all?’
‘Maybe you hadn’t realised how attractive Katrina would be. Maybe you’re regretting bringing me.’ Imogen’s blue-grey eyes narrowed and she clicked her fingers. ‘Or maybe this is all a ploy to make Leila jealous. What are you hoping for, Joe? That she’ll realise that she still loves you?’
For a second sheer disbelief froze him to the spot. Then … ‘Enough!’
Propelled by sheer anger, Joe stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
‘Stop it!’ Slamming her palms on his chest, she leant back against his hold. ‘No need to kiss me. Leila already believes we are an item.’
‘Never mind that,’ he growled. ‘I’m going to show you what a real kiss is—and then you can understand that I was not kissing Katrina.’
The idea that she really believed he was such a bastard made his blood simmer in his veins and he sealed her mouth in one harsh swoop. He revelled in the lushness of her lips, the taste of mint and strawberry. Her body stilled and then she tangled her fingers in his hair. The angry stroke of her tongue against his sent a shudder through him and he pulled her tight against him, so she could feel his body’s instant savage reaction.
OK. Stop now, Joe. Whilst you can. Point made.
Breaking the kiss, he stared down at her as their ragged breaths mingled in the evening breeze. ‘That’s a real kiss,’ he rasped. ‘Do you really believe I’d bring you here as my guest and then go off with someone else? Really?’
Her slim shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘Why wouldn’t you? If it was a tactic in your strategy to win Leila back, I’m sure you are more than ruthless enough to do just that.’
‘What strategy? I do not want to win Leila back. Even if I did I’m not a complete bastard. I have too much respect for you to treat you as a pawn. I am at this wedding for all the reasons I told you. I have no interest in Katrina. I am not Steve. You are not second-best. It’s your call whether you believe me or not.’
Before she could answer he saw Luis, wending his way through the tables towards them. ‘Ah, here you are,’ he said with a smile. ‘Leila sent me to find you. She’d like a chat with Imogen.’
Joe bit back the urge to tell Luis to tell Leila to take a hike; he and Imogen were in the midst of an important conversation. It mattered to him that Imogen believed him.
Imogen, on the other hand, practically leapt towards Luis, clearly relieved to be let off the conversational hook. ‘Of course. I’ll come straight away.’ As Luis started to thread his way through the crowds she turned and murmured, ‘Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll stick to my part of the bargain. Whatever your motivations for wanting me to.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘ALONG HERE,’ LUIS said, and led Imogen away from the thronged deck, where people shimmied and twisted to the beat of the music. Imogen followed on automatic, still processing what had just happened with Joe; trying to work out what to believe.
Instinct bade her to accept Joe’s version of events, but her instincts were hardly the most reliable—she’d trusted Steve implicitly and that hadn’t exactly ended well. Worse, it could be that her instincts had been skewed by that kiss, her brain deceived by a heady cloud of lust. Her lips—hell, her whole body—still buzzed from the aftershock.
The noise from the deck faded as she followed Luis down some stairs and into a private corridor. Come on, Imogen—get prepared. She’d told Joe she’d still play her allocated role—convince Leila that she was Joe’s muchloved girlfriend.
Her brain whirled. Did Joe have a point? Why would he have kissed Katrina if he wanted this charade to play out? Because he wanted Leila to realise that he wasn’t really in love with Imogen and that he was available? Her temples ached as she tried to work it out.
Luis pushed a door open. ‘In here.’
For a mad moment Imogen expected him to announce her, but instead he simply flashed a smile and withdrew. Still, the feeling of being a subject granted an audience, or in this case summoned, persisted.
The spacious conference room was dominated by a sleek oval cherrywood table, with Leila enthroned at one end on an ornate chair. She’d removed her veil, and also the train of her dress, so that now she was encased in a lace concoction that hit mid-thigh and moulded her model figure to perfection.
Suddenly the tangerine Bohemian look seemed a fashion disaster—maybe the black diamanté evening dress would have been better. She shook her head—why was she even thinking about this now? Maybe it was the slightly patronising I-am-more-beautiful-than-you-can-ever-be-and-we-both-know-it look in Leila’s green eyes. Shades of Simone’s cornflower-blue orbs, with their I-am-moreexciting-alluring-and-interesting-than-you-and-Steve-hasalways-loved-me expression.
‘Imogen. Thank you for seeing me in private.’
‘No problem.’ Choking back a sudden surge of hollow laughter, she tried to smile as she sat down.
‘Howard and I are leaving tonight, and before I go I need to make sure Joe is in good hands.’
‘Right. I see.’ Or rather … ‘Well, actually—no, I don’t. Joe’s happiness is not your responsibility.’ Unless, of course, Joe’s strategy was working and Leila was having second thoughts.
The blonde woman settled back on the chair and shook her head. ‘You see, that’s where you’re wrong. I dashed Joe’s hopes to the ground years ago—spurned his love—so I do feel that his happiness is very much my responsibility. He loved me so much. I was his world and then I rejected him.’
Hurt touched Imogen and she gritted her teeth, unable to help wondering what it must feel like to have Joe—correction, to have any man—think she was his world.
‘I feel so awful that I broke his heart like that … And when he looked at me today I saw all that love as though it had never gone away … could be rekindled in a trice …’
The leaden realisation that she had been right plummeted in Imogen’s tummy. Joe did still love Leila—she had been right on the money.
Wait. The word lit up her brain in neon and her gut screamed at her to listen to it as her brain replayed his words. ‘I have too much respect for you to treat you as a pawn. I am at this wedding for all the reasons I told you.’
She replayed their conversation over pizza in the Langley boardroom. His voice as he told her the truth about his past: the tragedy and its outcome. The guilt over Leila; his need to make amends.
Finding her voice, she met Leila’s emerald-green eyes, tried to read her expression. ‘Do you want to rekindle Joe’s love? Do you still love him?’
‘No. Not at all. Howie is the man for me. But now I know for sure Joe still has feelings for me I wanted to talk to you, so we can come up with a strategy to help him get over me.’
The hell with this. There was every possibility that she’d regret this, but somehow it wasn’t possible for Imogen to believe that Joe had lied to her. Ruthlessness was one thing; dishonesty was another. Steve had lied to her. Joe hadn’t. Not once.
‘I think he has got over you.’
The words were liberating and oh, so right.
Green eyes blinked at her in sheer incomprehension. ‘Darling, I know you want to believe that, but it’s simply not true. I saw the look in his eyes when he saw me. I—’
‘So did I. Joe told me he’s over you and I believe him.’
‘Then why hasn’t he had a r
elationship since me?’
‘Because he’s spent the last seven years bringing up his sisters. You know that.’
‘Don’t I just? Those twins are devil children. I never understood how he could pick them over me. Without the twins maybe I could have stuck it out. Though I don’t know … I remember the first time he dressed up in a suit to go and sort out his dad’s company. He didn’t look like my Joe any more. He’d changed so much. No more surfing—just dull, dull, dull business stuff. No more photo shoots, no more magazine articles, no more parties and travel … Joe could have been a surfing champion—famous, rich, having a life of freedom and fun. With me. He knew that was what I wanted, but he couldn’t see sense.’
Surfing again. So it was true. Only Joe had been more than a ‘surfing dude’—he’d been a champion, with a glittering career ahead of him. Her heart rended at the image of corporate, suited and booted Joe riding the waves, free and laid-back and happy, before tragedy struck.
‘He chose the twins over me. And when I told him I couldn’t marry him he heaped abuse on my head. I know it was because he was driven to distraction by my refusal and his love for me, but it hurt, Imogen. So much.’
For a few seconds Imogen could only open and close her mouth as sheer disbelief silenced her vocal cords. Joe had given up so much and then achieved so much, without complaint, regret or martyrdom. And this idiot couldn’t see any of that. Could only see how the world revolved around her.
Drawing breath, Imogen tried to do as Joe had asked. ‘Joe does feel terrible about how he treated you. He did actually write you a letter, apologising and …’
‘Hah! I got that letter …’
Imogen stilled, a layer of anger laving the inside of her tummy. ‘You got that letter? Why didn’t you contact Joe?’
‘What was the point?’ Leila shook her head. ‘His letter was full of the twins and how he’d won custody. It was too late for him to change his mind. Otherwise I’d have given him a second chance. If he’d seen reason it may not have been too late for us to recapture our love and—’