by Nina Milne
‘Excuse me, Joe. Could I have a word before you go? In private.’
Just great. Exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. The meeting had been bad—for once knowing that his decision was financially sound and correct was not enough. Nowhere near enough. As for the effort of keeping his gaze averted from Imogen—his eyeballs positively ached.
Joe concentrated on maintaining his expression at strictly neutral. ‘Of course.’
The Langley brothers exchanged glances. ‘Stay in here,’ Peter suggested. ‘Harry and I need to go and come up with a plan of campaign for the next few months. Imogen, when you’re done here could you please join us in my office?’
‘Sure.’
She rose to her feet as they left the boardroom, and Joe braced himself to withstand the sheer force of her beauty and her anger.
‘What can I do for you, Imogen?’ he asked, sitting back at the table.
She slammed her palms down on the mahogany tabletop. ‘You can explain what the hell that was all about.’
‘Meaning …?’
‘Meaning I thought you said that you didn’t like to close companies down.’
‘I don’t—and if you read the minutes you just took you’ll see that I didn’t.’
‘Huh. Those criteria are nigh on impossible.’
‘No, they aren’t. They are difficult, I grant you, but they are doable.’
‘Provided Harry doesn’t have another heart attack and Peter doesn’t relapse into another breakdown from the stress.’
Her voice caught and, heaven help him, guilt shoved him hard in the chest.
‘How could you do this, Joe? It’s wrong.’
‘I have no choice—Ivan Moreton’s offer is very generous.’
‘Of course it is. That’s because there is nothing Ivan wants more than to take this company down. He loathes Peter and Harry. You must realise that?’
Joe rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Yes, I do. But that dislike gives Langley a profitable way out. He’s even promised to keep the majority of staff.’
‘So he can rub their noses in his triumph. Plus, he knows damn well neither Peter nor Harry would ever work for him.’
Something tugged in his chest; face flushed, eyes sparking, Imogen looked so beautiful he wanted to help. Wanted to give her whatever she wanted. Which was exactly why it was time to close this interview down. Before he did something stupid. Again.
Rising to his feet, he shook his head. ‘This meeting is over, Imogen. I’ve given Langley a chance.’
For a second a doubt assailed him. Had his decision been strictly business? Somewhere deep down had he reasoned that even if he’d refused to give Imogen a chance he could at least offer the company she loved one?
‘I suggest you go out there and take it.’
A small frown creased her brow as her blue-grey eyes surveyed him.
He held out a hand. ‘Goodbye, Imogen. And good luck.’
Her fingers lay in his for one brief final moment. ‘Goodbye, Joe.’
Two months later
Imogen drew in a deep breath and looked around her tiny new studio apartment with approval. Spick and span, with nothing that even the most exacting parent could complain about. Fresh flowers on the small foldaway table, which was open and beautifully laid, complete with ice bucket for the champagne currently in the fridge. Hell, this would be a celebration even if it killed her. If it wasn’t, and her parents went loopy, then she’d just drink the damn bottle herself.
Heaven knew she deserved it after the past months—but it had been worth every single lost moment of sleep as she and all of the Langley team had pulled together and managed to meet every criterion on Joe’s list. Now Peter and Harry had met with Joe and Langley was safe—the knowledge was a constant warm glow inside her.
But that wasn’t the reason for this lunch. Apprehension fizzed in her veins and as if on cue the doorbell rang. Her heart beating a nervous rhythm against her ribcage, she crossed the floor and pulled the door open.
‘Hey, Mum. Hey, Dad.’
Panic roiled in her tummy at the sheer enormity of what she’d done and what she had to tell them. Even so, the certainty that she was right calmed her—Joe had been correct. She couldn’t live her life for her parents, no matter how much she loved them. Any more than he would expect his sisters to follow a path of his choosing just because he had chosen to take responsibility for them.
Instead he’d encouraged them to live their dreams, and he spoke of them with love—never disappointment. Eva hadn’t ever been able to do the same, and whilst that was perhaps wrong, what had also been wrong was Imogen’s compliance in that. That was why Joe had urged her to embrace art.
Joe. Why did anything and everything always come back to Joe?
‘Imogen? What’s the matter? We haven’t come all this way just to watch you daydream.’
Eva Lorrimer’s querulous voice pulled her into the present.
‘Sorry, Mum.’ Imogen hauled in breath—no point dressing this up. ‘Thank you for coming. I’ve got some fantastic news. I’ve been accepted into art college.’
Silence plummeted as Eva opened and closed her mouth, whilst Jonathan Lorrimer shifted from foot to foot.
‘Is this some sort of joke?’ Her mother had gone pale, her forehead pinched.
‘No, Mum. It’s for real. It’s a top London college and I can start in January.’ Imogen tried for a laugh … winced at the strangled gargle she achieved. ‘So you know what to get me for Christmas.’
Eva shook her head. ‘How could you be so stupid, Imogen? After everything I went through for you …’
Guilt surfaced, along with a hefty dose of self-doubt, but then she pushed her shoulders back and adhered her feet to the carpet. Joe might not be in her life, but he had taught her something life-changing. That life was for living and it was her life to live.
‘Mum!’
To her surprise the interruption worked and Eva stopped talking.
‘I know I’ve never managed to achieve what you wanted me to achieve, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Just because maths and science aren’t my thing it doesn’t make me useless.’ She could feel a weight lift from her shoulders, was liberated by the words.
‘I … I …’ Eva rallied. ‘I never thought that—I just wanted what was best for you. I wanted you to make something of yourself.’
‘And I have done that. I’m proud of my work at Langley.’
‘Being a PA is a good steady job …’
‘It is—and I’m a good PA. But I’ve been more than that at Langley and now I want to pursue my dream, Mum. Not yours, but mine.’
‘And end up penniless, knocking on my door for help?’
‘No! I’ve thought all this through. Langley is safe now, and I’ve arranged with Peter to keep working there part-time. I’ve got a manageable student loan. I’ll show you the figures, if you like. I can make this work and pay my own way. I’m so excited—please be excited for me.’
‘I’m excited for you.’
Swivelling on her trainer-clad foot, Imogen surveyed her father with surprise.
‘Truly I am, Imo. I may not have made it yet, but if you’ve been accepted into art college then maybe I can live vicariously through you. Well done, poppet.’
Poppet. He hadn’t called her that for so many years. Not since those rare times when he’d sat with her as a child and shown her how to draw. Until either Eva had put a stop to it or he’d disappeared back to his studio, leaving her to fend for herself. But at least now he could find it in himself to be happy for her, rather than begrudge her a success he hadn’t had, and she was grateful for that.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Tchah! Well, I’m not excited for you, Imogen.’ Eva sniffed. ‘I can’t stop you, and I won’t try, but I still think you’re making a grave mistake. You’ll get caught up in this art malarkey and the rest of your life will pass you by. When will you have time to meet a nice man to settle down with?’
The question hurt, and she blinke
d hard as an image of Joe shot into her head. Nice. Settle down. Not words she associated with Joe—but it didn’t matter. Like it or not, he’d insinuated himself into her heart and it was proving hard to prise him out. But she would—even if she had to get a chisel.
‘You lost Steve, and now—’
‘Steve loves Simone. And next week we can all dance at their wedding and wish them well.’
And she meant it—the thought of attending no longer had the sting it had held before. Steve and Simone were happy—that much was clear from the one conversation she’d had with Steve after he had voluntarily reimbursed her for the cost of the cruise. Further evidence had been provided by the stream of happy photos that Simone flooded social media with on a daily basis.
True, her stomach still dipped at the idea of being pointed out as the poor little ex, but she’d manage. At least she would be able to foil the sympathetic stares and prurient curiosity with her college news.
‘So,’ she said firmly. ‘How about we open the champagne?’
One day later
Exhilaration shot through Joe’s veins at the familiar feel of the surfboard under his feet. He felt weightless, suspended in time and nature, at one with the elements.
The power of the sea was both awe-inspiring and thrilling. Sheer adrenalin pumped in his blood as he caught the wave, and the screech of a seagull blended with the pounding in his ears, the tang of the sea spray on his skin causing sheer joy.
Just like the way he felt when he was with Imogen.
One week later
OK. She could do this. Imogen gazed out of the window as the train pulled in to the old-fashioned Devon station and she tried to block out her parents’ bickering voices.
‘Don’t see why any of us are coming to this damned wedding at all,’ Jonathan muttered. ‘Though I suppose if you feel you need to go, Imo, the least we can do is come to give you some moral support.’
Eva sighed. ‘I’ve explained time and again that we are going to this wedding because Steve was once part of our lives and he is the son of one of my oldest acquaintances.’
‘The same acquaintance who looks at me as though I’m something she stepped in,’ Jonathan grumbled as he lugged a suitcase onto the platform.
‘Guys …’
Some things would never change—she would probably be playing peacemaker between her parents for ever. Yet it could be worse; she might have lost her parents in a tragedy like Joe had.
Not again. No thoughts of Joe, today of all days.
Raising her voice to drown out her thoughts, Imogen waved placating hands at her parents. ‘For whatever reasons we are all here now, so let’s just get on with it. At least the scenery is gorgeous, the church is beautiful, and maybe we can find time for a proper cream tea.’
A taxi ride later and Imogen scanned the churchyard, bracing herself for the sight of friends and acquaintances all waiting to pounce.
Instead …
She blinked and dropped her knuckles from her eyes in the nick of time. Rubbing her eyes was not an option—not with the amount of make-up she had on. It must be a hallucination, but however many times she blinked the man remained there.
Solid and real—he looked just like Joe.
Hallucinating—that was what she was doing.
The hallucination headed purposefully towards them, dressed to kill in the same dark grey suit he’d worn to Leila’s wedding. Her nerves skittered, her tummy somersaulted—maybe it really was Joe.
‘Hello, Imogen.’
‘Joe. Um … what are you doing here?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m here for the wedding, of course.’
Gathering her wits together, she managed an introduction, saw her mother’s eyes scan from her face to Joe’s and braced herself again. But to her surprise Eva tugged on her husband’s arm.
‘Come on, Jonathan. Let’s get inside. Imo and her friend can follow us. I want a chance to talk to Clarissa.’
Her brain fried, scrambled and poached all at the same time—and if that wasn’t bad enough all she wanted to do was launch herself at his chest and hold on for dear life.
Once her parents were out of earshot Imogen forced her vocal cords to obey her brain’s command. ‘So you’re real?’
His eyebrows rose as his lips quirked upward. ‘Last time I checked.’
Her whole being drank him in. She noticed that his hair was longer … even spikier. There was a touch of strain about his eyes, and as he rubbed his neck in that oh, so familiar gesture she would have sworn he was nervous.
‘Is everything OK?’
‘It is now. You’re looking good.’
‘Thank you. You too.’ Hauling in breath, she asked the million-dollar question. ‘Why are you here? Really?’
‘I’m keeping my part of the bargain. You come to Leila’s wedding, I come to Steve’s—remember?’
Imogen hauled her senses into line. ‘I kind of assumed all deals were off due to unexpected complications.’
‘Nope.’ His gaze latched on to hers with a seriousness that made her tingle all over. ‘I’ve been surfing. All deals are back on.’
He’d gone surfing. Imogen’s heart skipped in the sure knowledge that he’d done that out of honour. But that didn’t change anything.
‘I’m glad,’ she said simply. ‘And I appreciate this, but I’ll be fine on my own.’
‘OK.’
A curl of disappointment rippled inside her.
‘I’ll see you in there, then,’ he continued.
‘Huh?’
‘I scored myself an invite of my own.’
‘How?’
‘I gate-crashed the wedding rehearsal and threw myself on Simone’s mercy. I think she was quite pleased to see me.’
‘You did what? What did you tell them?’
‘I told them the truth. That I needed to see you. We need to talk. A bit more privately. There’s a bench round the corner. We’ve got a bit of time before the ceremony.’
Imogen hesitated.
‘Please.’
The word disarmed her. Joe was used to giving orders—plus he’d come all this way—plus … Plus she wanted to be with him, wanted to make the most of every minute, and wouldn’t a proper closure be better than the way it had ended? No doubt that was why he was here.
‘OK. But we can’t be long.’
She followed him through the picturesque graveyard, tried to concentrate on the old gravestones, the feeling of history and peace, the autumnal smell in the air, the redbrown leaves on the trees.
‘Here we go. It’s secluded enough here and out of the wind. I checked.’
‘How forward-thinking of you,’ Imogen managed as she attempted to try and think through a haze of misplaced happiness. It was as though there had been a bit of her missing and now she was whole. She needed to get a grip.
‘Isn’t it?’
His eyes raked over her as she sat down and spread the swirl of her turquoise dress out so that he couldn’t get too close. Close would be a bad idea. The man was uptight, rule-orientated, cold. A man who thought three nights was a commitment he couldn’t deal with. But despite herself she craved the warmth of his body.
Her memory was flooded with the way he’d held her, the way he’d shown her so much about herself, the way he’d made love to her.
‘Joe, it’s OK. I’m OK. You don’t have to explain anything. Everything has worked out fine. As you know, better than anyone, Langley is safe. I’m not going to melt down or be permanently affected by the time we had together or the way you behaved. Though, for the record, it sucked.’
‘You’re right. It did. And I’m sorry.’
The flare of hope she hadn’t even realised she’d harboured died. He was here to apologise—nothing more.
‘Apology accepted. Now, please don’t feel you have to stay. Steve and I are good. We’ve worked out our differences. I can more than manage on my own.’
The words were true but oh, how she wished it wasn’t like t
his. Her heart ached; her chest was banded with pain.
‘So I guess this is goodbye. Again.’
This was so not the way it was supposed to play out—hard to understand how he who could grasp control of any boardroom meeting—anywhere, any time—couldn’t manage this situation.
Panic sheened the nape of his neck with moisture. Imogen was saying goodbye—he’d obviously blown any available bridge sky-high.
‘No.’
Was that croak his voice? Time to step up—because no way was he losing this woman without at least a fight.
‘No,’ he repeated firmly. ‘It’s not.’
‘There is nothing more to say.’
‘That’s where you are so very wrong. There is a load more to say. But first I need to say the most important thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I love you.’
Joe wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the sceptical rise of her eyebrows wasn’t it—nor the determined shake of her head as she slipped her hands under her thighs.
‘Don’t, Joe …’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Lie.’
‘Lie?’ She thought he was lying?
‘It doesn’t make sense. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you for two months. Last time I saw you, you couldn’t even contemplate more than two nights with me—this is taking “absence makes the heart grow fonder” too far.’
He was making an incredible mess of this. Had he really thought she’d fall into his arms in a swoon of delight? He needed to make her believe him. This was his last chance.
‘Imogen, I love you. I loved you back then and I love you now. That’s a fact. Love isn’t logical, and you can’t put it in a tick-box. I panicked on that beach on the Algarve because for seven years I’d lived by my self-imposed rules and then you came into my life and changed everything. Broke down all the barriers I’d built to keep my life from complications.’
Imogen swept her fringe to one side as she contemplated his words. ‘I’m not sure I want to feature in your life as an unwanted complication.’
‘You won’t.’ He shoved a hand through his hair and tried to summon up coherence. ‘I … I’ve done a lot of thinking over these past two months. And I’ve realised what I did after my parents died. I closed down.’