She made an involuntary sound as her body clenched tight in response to the memory of that night.
“Everything okay?” Eric asked from beside her in the cab as they headed from the airport back to their office.
“Fine, thanks,” she managed smoothly.
It was hard to think about that night without thinking about what had happened next. And her confrontation with Valentin over Carla. They remained at an impasse and she didn’t like it one bit. She was going to have a make a decision in the next few weeks, whether she liked it or not. Stay, and potentially put herself in the same position her mother lived in—because she had no doubt that Carla Rogers would not retract her claws from what she saw as her proprietary interest in Valentin—or walk away. Imogene felt her stomach flip uncomfortably as she accepted that if she was to be true to herself, she really only had one option, and it just about broke her heart to admit it.
Thirteen
He missed her.
Seeing Imogene work such long hours, coming home late at night and worn-out, gave him a new appreciation for how hard she worked and also reminded him of what she’d had to put up with from him in the early days of their marriage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, but having some understanding of what she had gone through made him vow to strive to keep more regular hours at the office, and to encourage his staff to do the same. But on a personal basis, the days of separation were creating their own issues—widening the gulf that had developed between them even further. They didn’t even have an opportunity to talk to each other beyond the basics of common courtesy. They’d gone from trying to build a marriage to living like a pair of roommates and it made him feel a difficult combination of emotions. He, who had always been the calm in a storm, had become short-tempered at work and taciturn here at home. Even with Dion, who had done nothing wrong, Valentin had snapped unnecessarily—like when he’d very reasonably asked him if Imogene would be home for dinner.
He walked over to the window overlooking the park and took in a deep breath. This unreasonable, moody behavior wasn’t him. Worse, he knew precisely why he was behaving this way. He was afraid his marriage was dying before it even had a chance to live. He had to do something, but what? How did a man woo back his woman when they barely spent any time together?
Make time for each other, a little voice in the back of his head prodded him none too gently. A light bulb went off. She’d brought him dinner at work when he was working late; the least he could do for her was the very same thing.
“Dion!” he shouted as he strode out of his office.
“Yes, Mr. Horvath?” Dion said, wiping his hands on an apron as he came into the hall from the kitchen.
“First, I need to apologize to you for being a bear this evening...well, every evening these past few weeks.”
“That’s all right, sir. I know you’re missing Mrs. Horvath.”
“You do?”
“Of course, it’s only natural. She’s missing you, too. But if you’ll excuse me for being forward, neither of you seem to know what to do about it.”
“You’re right,” Valentin agreed. “We’ve been married before, to each other, and it all blew up in our faces. Now I think we’re both too wary to fully commit again.”
“Understandable, sir. No one enters into these things expecting or wanting to be hurt again. But love brings vulnerability and at a certain point you need to surrender to that to give love a chance.”
His words sank deep. “You’re very wise, Dion. You must miss your wife a lot.”
“With every breath, sir. Now, what else was it that you wanted?”
“I thought I might return the favor to Imogene and take dinner to her at work.”
A large smile split Dion’s lined face. “That’s an excellent idea, sir. I’ll get on it straightaway.”
Dion was as good as his word. Within an hour he had a fragrant meal of spaghetti Bolognese together with salad and a wrapped loaf of warm, fresh bread.
“Did you want to use the trolley, sir, or the thermal picnic pack?”
Valentin thought about the night Imogene had brought dinner to him and how special it had been dining by his office window. But this time he wanted to make it different, and hopefully achieve an ending that was far less traumatic than the last one had been.
“No, I think I’ll just wing it and use the pack, but perhaps take a tablecloth or blanket, as well?”
“I have just the things, sir.”
Fifteen minutes later Valentin was in the elevator of Imogene’s building and heading to her floor. The doors pinged open, revealing a large open-plan office space with several individual offices lining the outside edge. Not a soul was around, and most of the lighting was dimmed, but over in a far corner, Valentin made out a glow of light. He struck out toward it, realizing he really should have shown more interest in Imogene’s work and workplace before now. In fact, coming here, not knowing exactly where he was going, was like holding up a mirror to how he’d been treating his marriage so far. He had to do better. All along he’d been saying he was invested in making their union work when he’d really only been going through the motions, not taking an active part in making things work. He’d slid back into his old habits and had made few changes to his life to accommodate the fact that he was, once again, married.
With the promise of doing better echoing in his mind, he reached the door of the lit office and looked inside. Two heads were bent close together at the large desk over by the window. Very close together. Suddenly Valentin had an all-too-vivid realization of what Imogene had been going through with him continuing to work with Carla, because a vicious surge of jealousy cut through him like a hot knife through butter. He must have made some kind of noise because simultaneously, the two heads looked up and straight at him. Imogene seemed at first shocked, then overjoyed to see him there.
“Valentin, this is a lovely surprise,” she said, coming around from the desk and walking quickly toward him.
But when she reached him, she hesitated, as if unsure of what she ought to do next. Given the estrangement they were suffering, it was no wonder, he told himself, and he put down the pack and reached for her, kissing her on the cheek briefly before letting her go.
“I thought I’d bring you dinner,” he said, looking straight into her eyes and trying to tell her with so many words unsaid that he was doing his best to take steps to rebuild the bridge that had broken down between them.
“That’s so thoughtful of you. Eric and I were just saying we needed to finish what we were doing. Eric, come and meet my husband.”
She gestured to the man, now standing beside her desk, and he came forward, hand outstretched. Valentin did his best to remain courteous but it wasn’t easy. This was the man Imogene had been spending hours with, traveling overnight with. A man she’d been spending more time with than she’d been spending at home. It was hard not to feel some pangs of envy, especially when they were obviously already close.
“Your wife is quite a woman,” Eric said after their initial introductions had been performed. “I’m stunned by what she’s achieved with her business and honored I was chosen to fill her shoes as CEO.”
“She’s quite a woman, all right,” Valentin agreed, silently adding, my woman.
Eric seemed to pick up on the invisible tension and turned to Imogene. “I’ll leave you to it and we can get back to work in the morning. My wife and girls will be waiting for me.”
He added the last with a pointed look at Valentin, as if assuring him that he wasn’t poaching on his property in any way. Valentin gave him a short nod in acknowledgment.
“Thanks, Eric,” Imogene said, looking from one man to the other as if realizing she’d just missed some kind of silent male communication between them.
Once Eric was gone Imogene turned to face Valentin. “What the heck was that all about?”
“You neve
r told me your new CEO is tall, dark, handsome and charming,” he said before he could stop himself.
To his surprise, Imogene laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? He’s also married and a devoted father and not interested in me in that way at all. In fact, he’s been a breath of fresh air because he doesn’t see me purely as a woman but as a business equal.”
Valentin reached for her again, encircling her in his arms. “He doesn’t see you as a woman? Then there is something very seriously wrong with him because you’re beautiful.”
He bent his head and captured her lips before she could speak and in that brief instant he knew he’d done the right thing in coming here tonight. He needed this, but more than that, he needed her to know—to be sure—that he was here for her, for them. He ended the kiss and reluctantly released her.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, bending to retrieve the picnic pack from the floor.
“Starving. I can’t remember when I last ate.”
Valentin tsk-tsked under his breath. “You need to look after yourself better,” he said, then stopped and corrected himself. “No, I need to look after you better.”
“I’m a grown woman, Valentin. I can look after myself.”
“But that’s the thing,” he said. “You don’t need to do it all yourself. I’m here for you.”
“Are you?” she asked, a wary look in her eyes. “I know you’re here now, but are you really there for me 24/7?”
She had every right to ask that question. He knew that. And in all honesty, he couldn’t tell her he had been.
“Look, we both have work to do in our relationship. You need to trust me but more than that, I need to make it clearer to you that you can.” He sucked in a harsh breath and decided to come out with complete honesty. “I hated seeing you here with Eric like that this evening.”
“Valen—”
“No, please, hear me out. I refused to understand how you felt about Carla, and that’s on me. I’ve been an idiot. It wasn’t until the shoe was on the other foot that I began to get an inkling as to how you’ve been feeling all this time.”
A frown drew lines on her forehead and her eyes reflected her concern. “I don’t think you can understand, Valentin. Seeing me working with my replacement, a man who won’t be a big part of my life once I’ve fully stepped down, is nothing compared to you continuing to work with a woman you once were intimate with. A woman who is doing her best to undermine me.”
Valentin swallowed. She was right. If Eric had been a part of her past, Valentin would likely have stepped into her office and then engaged in a very unattractive brawl right here with her new CEO. Some Neanderthal part of his brain had gone into overdrive when he’d seen the two of them together, quite without reason. But then reason always had fled when it came to him and Imogene, hadn’t it?
“You’re right,” he said, swallowing the last of his pride. “I may not ever understand fully how much I’ve hurt you, but I want it to be clear that I never want to hurt you like that ever again. I’ll be talking to the Horvath legal department in the morning to see what I can do in terms of letting Carla go or moving her to another office away from New York. Beyond all else, you are the most important person to me and your happiness is my goal.”
He saw tears swim in her eyes before pooling and spilling down her cheeks. If she’d cut him with a knife it couldn’t have hurt any more than realizing just how much this meant to her and how little attention he’d really paid to it. He’d assumed she was jealous, and, yes, she probably was, but she’d had a valid point. And he’d ignored that, putting his company’s interests ahead of his wife’s.
“I love you, Imogene. Believe me.”
“I believe you,” she whispered.
He kissed her again, pulling her close to his body where she fitted against him so perfectly. Their embrace was tender, an affirmation of their commitment to each other. When they parted, Valentin felt like they had forged a new link between them. One that was stronger than before, one that would stand the test of time.
* * *
Imogene looked at her husband, seeing his sincerity and feeling a new sense of hope fill the dark empty place that had taken up residence where her heart should be ever since Carla Rogers had walked in on them weeks ago. Maybe they really could make this work. Before she could say anything, her stomach rumbled loudly. Valentin laughed.
“I guess that’s my cue to serve dinner,” he said.
“I guess it is,” she answered, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.
“Where shall we set up?”
“There’s the meeting table over there, or we could just sit on the floor by the coffee table.” She gestured toward a long sofa that faced a coffee table and two easy chairs.
“Coffee table it is,” he said and moved away.
She watched as he set everything up and fell a little more in love with him as he laid their meal out.
“Dion’s hard work?” she asked as she settled beside him on the couch and accepted a glass of red wine.
“You really don’t want to try my cooking,” he replied with a grimace. “So, yeah, it’s Dion to the rescue again.”
“Thank goodness for Dion,” she murmured. “So, shall we make a toast?”
“To us?”
“To us,” she affirmed as they clinked glasses and each took a sip of wine.
“Let me look after you,” Valentin said, putting his glass back on the table.
“I certainly won’t object to that,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it,” he encouraged. “You don’t often talk about your work.”
“You don’t often ask,” she answered simply.
“I’m sorry about that. I will try harder in the future, Imogene. I promise. I want to be the husband you deserve.”
“You are right now,” she said, accepting a plate of steaming spaghetti from him.
“No,” he corrected her. “But I will be. Just you wait and see.”
She had no answer for that but again, that sense of light and joy filled her inside. Maybe they could make this work after all.
While they dined she let Valentin coax the details of her day from her, and bit by bit she found herself relaxing more and more. When it came to discussing business, he was so easy to talk to, she noted. A shame they’d struggled so much about other things. But that was changing, wasn’t it?
Partway through dinner, Valentin had risen and played with her iPod dock, which sat on a credenza behind her desk. He’d chosen an easy listening playlist and once they’d eaten their fill, he put out one hand to her.
“I want to dance with you, Imogene,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.
She smiled her response. They hadn’t danced since the stiff formal wedding dance almost three months ago. “I’d like that.”
He pulled her to her feet and into his arms and they began to move together, swaying gently to the music, not dancing quite so much as simply being together. It was beautiful, and it lit a familiar slow-burning need deep inside her. But even so, her insecurities still hovered on the edge of her thoughts. She loved Valentin and she loved being with him, but until he’d fully resolved the situation with Carla she didn’t feel as though they could confidently move forward together. But he was taking steps to do that now, she reminded herself as he nuzzled the curve of her neck, sending a shiver of liquid fire to burn through her body. And was it that she didn’t trust him, or didn’t trust Carla Rogers?
Definitely the latter, she decided. But that didn’t mean that Valentin was completely out of the woods in that department. He’d made promises to her tonight, promises that were likely going to be a challenge to keep. The proof would be in what came next, she decided, giving herself over to the man holding her in his arms. The only man who’d ever had the ability to make her blood sing with desire. The only man
she’d ever loved.
When Valentin’s hands began to move over her back, his fingers playing with the zipper that ran the length of her back, she whispered a soft “Yes” in his ear before biting gently on his earlobe. It was all the encouragement he needed to undo her dress. The sensation of his hot, broad hands on her bare skin was temptation and bliss rolled into one. With the fingers of one hand he unsnapped her bra, then reached up to push the fabric of her dress down off her shoulders, easing her arms out of the long sleeves and letting her bra and dress fall to the floor in a pool around her feet. Her whole body hummed with need. Need for him to take her, to touch her, to taste her—everywhere.
“Lock my door,” she instructed, stepping out of the puddle of fabric.
He did so, quickly, and returned to face her.
“You are so beautiful,” Valentin said gently as he looked at her.
His eyes roamed every inch of her exposed skin, his fingers now tracing the edges of her garter belt, then the edges of her panties. She could barely swallow, such was the intensity of the wave of desire that hit her.
“I want you, Valentin,” she said on a voice that shook with emotion. “Make love to me.”
“Your wish is my absolute command.”
He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the couch they’d only recently vacated, and laid her there before reaching for his clothing and shedding it with an economy of motion that impressed her.
“I never knew you could move so fast,” she teased from her recumbent position.
“With the right incentive, I can do anything.” He grinned, settling over her.
“Anytime, anywhere?”
“For you, always.”
And then he showed her. His hands skimmed her breasts, his touch light as a feather and making her skin prick into goose bumps and her nipples draw into tight beads. Lower and lower he let his fingers drift down her body, unsnapping the catches on her garter belt and, one by one, rolling her stockings down her legs. As he reached each foot, he massaged the instep, his touch sending wild jolts of pleasure through her. Then he worked his way back up again—his touch sure and strong this time. He gently massaged her calves, her thighs, and then reached to tug her panties down and expose her to him completely. She shivered in anticipation as his hands cupped her buttocks and he bent to flick his tongue against her thigh, then to the curve that indented at the top, before doing the same to the other leg.
Inconveniently Wed Page 12