Double Take: A Raw Romance

by Penny Henry

  Imogen prickled. She was the only one trying. She jerked her hand away. "Fine, if that's the way you feel about it, Gable. Then go."

  He appeared to thaw a little. "Perhaps we could get together this weekend. Go to a restaurant or take in a show."

  "I'm busy," said Imogen bluntly. He had irritated her and more to the point, it was true. "I've got an album launch at the Gold Star Café tomorrow - she glanced at the digital clock on the music system, or should I say tonight. I have to be there. Anyway, I thought that you would be jetting off to New York this weekend."

  "New York?" Gable stared at her blankly.

  "New York, you know, the Fashion Awards. You will be going, won’t you?” Gable was looking at her as if she was an alien.

  "For goodness sake, Gable. You’re acting as if you don’t know what I’m talking about." She was becoming ill-tempered with his apparent slowness. Perhaps Rose had been right. Did Imogen really want a relationship with a male bimbo?

  Suddenly a light switched on in Gable’s head. "Oh, right, sorry— I was a million miles away. Is that this weekend? Yes— No, I won't be going. It's not really my scene. I was sort of hoping that you and I—"

  "I’m Sorry to disappoint you," Imogen interrupted. "I’m afraid I’m going to be enjoying myself with lots of exciting young men at the Gold Star Cafe."

  If she had wanted to hurt him, she could not have chosen to do it better. Gable looked at her stonily. "Goodnight, Imogen. Have a great time."

  Imogen cursed her short-temper. "Gable, I—" Then she stopped herself, what was the point?

  He turned with a hand on the edge of the open door. "Don't forget to lock up."

  The door slammed and Imogen was left to regret her outburst. It had been rude and uncalled for. It wasn’t Gable that had been responsible for their ruined evening. The thief had a lot to answer for. Assuming it was the Rolex robber and it was nothing more sinister. She harbored a niggling fear that the poison letter writer might take his obsession one stage further than just abusing her with words. A lot of people knew that Imogen was never at home on a Thursday. The thought of someone prowling round her apartment sent a shiver down her spine and sent her hurrying to lock the door. She suddenly missed Gable’s protective presence and double-checked the lock. It occurred to her that she hadn't mentioned the possibility to the police. She preferred not to think about it.

  Imogen turned off the lights and took a step towards her bedroom. Then she switched the lounge lights back on and walked to the couch. She felt behind the cushions and found her discarded bra. She remembered Gable's difficulty with the simple fastening. She imagined a man like Gable would have removed her bra with a flick of his fingers. Now was not a good time to think about it. She crossed the lounge and switched off the lights. A visit to the bathroom and Imogen was ready for bed. These late nights were not good for her skin and she had another long night tomorrow. Not that her perfect complexion was having a great effect on Gable at the moment. She had resorted to practically throwing herself at him in a vain attempt to get him to stay. Imogen curled under her cover. She toyed with the idea of thinking about the sex in the office with Michael. No, it was sleep she needed more than satisfaction. Instead she concentrated on what she was planning to say to Don Thornton in the morning. He was in for the roasting of his life.

  The thought remained with her as she drifted to sleep. But her dreams were not of Don Thornton and sneak thieves. Her dreams were of Gable and the kaleidoscope of feelings that had exploded in her head since first setting eyes on his handsome face. It was more than lust that turned her legs to the shaky limbs of a new-born foal and caused her stomach to somersault as if thrown from a mechanical bucking bronco. She was falling for Gable. It wasn’t too late to pull back. She knew she could be opening herself up to be hurt. Their yo-yo relationship was bringing back all the crazy emotions she had been determined to live without. Imogen didn't like the way that she was feeling. Gable had the power to hurt her and she was letting it happen. She needed to toughen up. From today she was getting out her rulebook. And she was sticking to the rules.

  Chapter Eight

  Imogen woke before her alarm. Her sleep had been troubled and restless. She hadn’t been able to get Gable out of her head. Then she remembered that today she was making a fresh start. She completed her morning routine ahead of schedule and without dwelling on Gable or any of the events of the previous day. She arrived at the car park early but the boys had already gone. There was no sign of Gable's Porsche or Roger's car. They must have been up with the birds. The lack of sleep wouldn't help Gable maintain his model looks, she thought caustically. The traffic was light and Imogen made good pace on the road. She walked into the offices ahead of time and early enough to catch Connie stuffing an unopened letter from Imogen's In-tray into a drawer already well stuffed with similar envelopes.

  "Let me see it, Connie," said Imogen in a reprimanding tone.

  The blonde's head twisted towards her. "Imogen, you’re early. It's nothing you want to see, trust me." She kept a firm hand against the front of the drawer.

  "I know what it is, Connie, you might as well show it to me. I know that you and Rose think it’s the best way to protect my feelings but I'm a big girl now."

  Connie blew out in exasperation. "What's the point if you already know what it is?"

  "I just want to see if he's come up with anything original. Maybe it’ll give an idea of who he is."

  Imogen wasn’t going to let it go. "Okay, okay, if that’s what you want. But don't say I didn't warn you." Connie pulled opened the drawer. A sharp intake of breath betrayed Imogen's shock at the amount of envelopes shoved inside. They were all neatly addressed to Imogen. "I think we're due a visit from the police soon," said Connie by way of explanation. “They take them away and look for clues.”

  Imogen took the latest addition from Connie’s hand and ripped the envelope open. She unfolded the single sheet to read the intimate observations and lewd proposals with a jaundiced eye. There was nothing to shock her - nothing that couldn't be read in any erotic novel. There was nothing she hadn't read before. In fact there was a distinct lack of imagination. She was angry, of course, but she was also extremely curious. There was a familiar ring about the contents she felt she should recognize. The identity of the writer was somewhere in the words. The signature cartoon was another jog to her memory. It just wouldn't come together for her. The little man peering over a brick wall was a common cartoon that everyone had sketched at one time or another. The overpowering feeling that raged in Imogen's mind was one of vulnerability. No one had the right to make her feel this way. There seemed to be a growing number of sad individuals that got their kicks from this kind of thing. The Internet and social networking sites had made it worse. They were beneath contempt.

  "Get a life," muttered Imogen under her breath. She opened her fingers to let the letter flutter down to Connie's desk. "I suppose they're all the same."

  "Pretty much,” said Connie warily. She searched Imogen's eyes for a sign of an upset. She couldn’t read anything behind them.

  "I think he needs a new script writer,” said Imogen contemptuously. “You know, when they find out who it is, I'd just like five minutes alone with him - or her."

  "Get in the queue," said Rose quietly. "Good morning, Imogen. Good morning, Connie."

  Imogen turned and found a smile. "Good morning, Rose."

  Connie pushed back her chair. "Good morning, Rose. Coffee for everyone I take it?"

  “Mmm, please, Connie," said Rose. She looked at Imogen. “You mustn't let it upset you, honey. The police are always hoping for a breakthrough. Sooner or later he, or she, will make a mistake. They just hope that it doesn't progress to anything more.” She hadn’t really thought the statement through.

  "Progress to what exactly?" asked Imogen in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Rose hurriedly back-tracked. "Well— I... I don't really know. Sorry, honey. Whatever these kind of people do, I suppose. I'm sorry. I did
n't mean to suggest that— I'm sorry, Imogen. I wasn’t thinking."

  "Don't give it a second thought, Rose. I'm sure whoever is writing these letters is too afraid I’ll know him if he comes close to me." Imogen surprised herself with her own logic. She avoided mentioning last night’s break-in. Rose and Connie would insist on her moving out and she had unfinished business to take care of.

  "I'm sure you're right, honey," said Rose quickly. "These people are basically cowards. The last thing they want is to meet their victims face to face."

  "I am not a victim." Imogen it made very clear. "I just get angry. I’m not frightened of anyone who skulks around making snide remarks or sending anonymous letters. Let them say it to my face."

  "Good for you." Connie had returned bearing three mugs of coffee as the office began to fill with lively secretaries discussing their private lives. "Someone is very jealous and resentful of what you’ve achieved, Imogen. Don't let it get to you."

  "Exactly," agreed Rose. "I don’t think there’s anything in it. It’ll be some sad old wanker with nothing better to do. You mark my words, honey. These nasty people always give themselves away in the end.

  "I'm looking forward to that day," said Imogen sweetly. She took her coffee with her and turned towards to her office. "See you at eleven o'clock, Rose. I've got a few ideas for the web site."

  "I'll just bet you have," said Rose. "Don't forget we have to go over the budget for Karl's new album before we get round to the website, honey."

  "Not a problem," sang Imogen as she walked away with her head held high. "It's all in here." She swung the briefcase in her free hand as she went.

  Rose looked at Connie. "How does she do it?"

  Connie shrugged her shoulders. "Obviously the new man in her life is putting new life in the woman. Let's hope she knows what she's doing."

  The hint of jealousy in Connie’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Rose simply chose to ignore it. They exchanged a look with the same quirk on their mouths and left it at that.

  Imogen hadn't forgotten about the budget for Karl’s whistle-stop UK tour. She had spent most of yesterday working on it. It wasn’t anything new. But with Karl they were going to have to work a bit harder. He wasn't getting any younger and this was likely to be his last major release. His contract was up for renewal and he had pissed-off a lot of people that had long memories.

  Karl was old news. The website was what she was excited about. She had put together a lot of good ideas with Gable’s help. She needed Rose to back her and convince the two other directors at the meeting. George Booth - the financial director would have no problem with the budget for the Karl Wainscott tour, but he might be more reluctant to approve the few thousand for the website development. Paul Lawton would be on her side, as would Rose. Paul was thirty years old - thirty years younger than George. He would immediately recognize the potential of her ideas. Paul would walk under a truck if she asked him to. He had been smitten with Imogen for the last two years knowing that it was never going anywhere. They had tried a brief encounter that had left Imogen flat. It had been Rose that had paired them together at a launch party and she hadn’t given up trying ever since. Paul was an attractive man and thoroughly charming when he wanted to be. Imogen simply didn't fancy him - like that was going to put Rose off! She had decided Imogen and Paul were the perfect couple and made it her life's work to bring them together at every opportunity. And naturally the harder that Rose tried, the more Imogen resented the idea. It would be just like Rose to contrive to throw them together at tonight's album launch and, as usual, Imogen would use Connie as a block. Some things never changed. Rose was a nightmare.

  Imogen had the phone in her hand before her backside hit the chair. When Don Thornton answered she was disappointed to find that he had been expecting her call. She had been denied the advantage of surprise. Roger Winter had informed Don of the break-in at Imogen's apartment. The mention of Gable's brother put Imogen on the back foot for a moment. She would have thought that Gable would have been the one to report the attempted burglary. After all, he had been there when it had happened. Of course - Roger was the registered tenant. Gable must have asked his brother to take care of it. Then Imogen got into her stride. The next five minutes were spent in haranguing the luckless man, allowing him respite only when a new lock was faithfully promised for the following week. She put down the telephone feeling better for venting her anger and set to work. Connie provided the latest estimates for the tour budget and Imogen built in a margin for error before finalizing the proposal. She buzzed a junior to put her jotted website ideas on the computer and run off several copies. It looked good. She couldn’t see how anyone could argue against it. She made it to the conference room on time, complete with the copies to hand round. Connie was already seated to take the minutes.

  "Good morning, Imogen." Paul Lawton greeted Imogen first, rising from his seat to take her hand. He looked every inch the successful executive. His calf-length topcoat hung from the stand. The sharp business suit with striped red shirt and maroon silk tie made him look as immaculate as ever. His blue eyes sparkled with the pleasure of seeing her and his blond hair was neatly trimmed. He wore it just off his neck with the right amount of devil-may-care to the front curls. Imogen stepped in closer to brush her lips against his cheeks. Paul was a lovely man and would be a great catch for any woman - but not for her. Imogen could feel Rose's calculating eyes on her back as she parted from Paul to greet George with a business-like handshake.

  "Good morning, George, how are you? Not got to tight a hold on the purse strings I hope."

  George gave all the appearance of a rundown accountant set for a day in the garden, but there was a shrewd mind operating behind those tired grey eyes. "Always ready to listen to a good idea, Imogen - backed with sound commercial sense, of course." He grinned at her cheek.

  "Shall we make a start?" suggested Rose. She pointed to the empty seat next to Paul from the dozen chairs surrounding the conference table. "Sit down, Imogen. Why don’t you show us what you've got for us?"

  Imogen shot Rose a dark look as Paul pulled back the chair to allow Imogen to seat herself. It was a look that Rose chose to ignore as she proceeded with the short agenda. Imogen met Paul’s eyes for a second. She felt the tinge of a blush. The last function they had attended as a couple had ended uncomfortably. Imogen had been tipsy and feeling frisky. She had nearly gone home with Connie before Paul had collected her for the waiting limo. Imogen had slid up the dark privacy glass between the driver and the rear seat passengers. She had pulled Paul into her for a good night kiss and allowed his hand to travel up her thigh. Her damned legs had parted and he had cupped her wet sex. She lost herself thinking of Connie and he had slid his fingers inside her and helped her to a trembling climax. She had felt obliged to return the favor with a quick blowjob and they had sat in the back feeling self-conscious and embarrassed until the limo had dropped off Imogen first. Things were a little awkward between them for a while but there had been no lasting damage. Paul had kept his crush on her and Imogen discreetly avoided being alone with him. Imogen looked up. Rose was talking. "First item is the budget for Karl Wainscott's promotional tour to coincide with the album release. Imogen has the details."

  Imogen handed round the presentation and the figures were quickly agreed. George had set the money aside and it was a question of working within the budget. Rose announced she would personally impress upon John Lomax the importance of making the promotion work. They had scheduled eighteen venues for the whistle-stop tour. Everything was set up, the advertising proofs were agreed, the flights and hotels were booked. John would be on hand to make the exhausting schedule work. Karl’s last tour had been a shambles and resulted in a procession of enraged parents and angry boyfriends selling their stories. John Lomax would be held responsible for the band’s actions.

  The two male directors shook their heads at the faith that Rose put in John. She was working on the principle of set a thief to catch a thief. He had be
en there and done it all. John was a poacher turned gamekeeper. If he could remember his job the risk was worth taking. There was no doubting Karl’s talent. But he was approaching his sell-by date. The company was hoping for one last dividend before Karl was submerged in the wave of bands that were sweeping the industry. Many of them couldn't read a note of music. Singer / writers like Karl were a dying breed but the company was counting on recouping its investment many times over.

  From Karl's promotional budget, Imogen moved smoothly into her Internet presentation. She was happily surprised at the enthusiasm of all three of her fellow directors. George was adamant that the best technical advice be obtained. He had been introduced to the Internet by his grandson and was now a believer. He could see every single Sblig product and letterhead carrying the website address and business booming. There was minimal cost. The products were out there. They had fallen behind the times. He was for it one hundred percent. He further proposed that the office should have the facility to update the website with the latest news and releases. The design company would be retained on a consultancy basis but with new guidelines set by Imogen. George had been doing his own research. He let it slip that in-house editing would work out cheaper. Then it became easier for Imogen to understand his sudden conversion. George was nobody's fool. Imogen's suggestion that Connie be given the role of supervising editor was approved unreservedly.

  The meeting carried them through sandwiches for lunch and into the early afternoon. With the business for the day completed the talk turned to that night's album launch at the Gold Star Café. The album was the first from Baggage! The launch was expected to last through the night. George made his usual excuses but Paul was looking forward to the party. He had come to them from the world of retail clothing and after three years with the company still got a kick from partying with celebs and rock stars. The meeting was almost over when Rose reverted to her self-delegated role as matchmaker.