‘My philosophy is to hire the best people, tell them what I want, and then leave them to get on with it. I find that works ninety-nine per cent of the time.’
‘Nice philosophy.’
She gazed at him with frank admiration and it made perspiration gather at his nape. ‘It doesn’t mean I can’t pull rank when I need to.’
‘I already know this about you.’
Damn. Was she never going to let him forget that unfortunate morning when he’d growled at her? He opened his mouth to apologise—again—when he recognised the teasing laughter in her eyes and something inside him eased. ‘Very funny, Ms Hartley. Now if you’d be kind enough to send me some of those photos...?’
She turned her attention back to her phone. ‘I’m sending them with captions.’
‘Because you don’t think I can manage a twenty-five-year-old woman’s voice?’
‘Because it’ll be quicker, and I want to get down to the beach.’
‘That definitely wasn’t subservient.’
He was rewarded with a tinkle of delighted laughter as he watched his email program and waited for the first of her photos to come through. They hit his inbox in quick succession. Her captions were short and sparky and the voice was better—younger—than he could’ve ever managed.
‘So?’
She stared at him with an angled chin, evidently waiting for feedback. He was a firm believer in giving praise where it was due. ‘These are perfect.’
‘I should’ve been a writer.’
For a fraction of a second, he stilled. Did she know Katherine’s secret? Had her aunt finally confided in her? Whether she had or hadn’t, it wasn’t his place to give the game away. ‘It’s not too late,’ he said instead. ‘Though you might be pressed for time with the opening of your new school.’
‘Yeah, nah.’
His lips twitched. ‘Was that a yes or a no?’
‘It’s a maybe.’
She’d gone back to her phone and an influx of new pictures arrived, along with suggestions for status updates. All spot on and useful. He suddenly frowned. ‘Would it be asking too much for me to have a look at your profile?’
‘Friend me.’
Not a good idea.
Her fingers stilled. She glanced up. ‘You don’t have a profile on social media, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Of course he doesn’t,’ she murmured, before gesturing to his keyboard. He opened another browser window and handed the keyboard over, careful to glance away when she typed in her password. Her feed promptly appeared on his screen and as he scrolled down it, he found it as fun and vibrant as the woman herself.
He let out a breath. ‘You and Jupiter don’t sound anything alike.’ It was the reason he’d wanted to check her account.
Liar. You wanted a voyeuristic glimpse into that life she loves.
‘You made it pretty clear you didn’t want anyone being able to trace Jupiter to me—or to link us together in any way.’
‘I wish some of the people I work with were as quick to read between the lines as you.’
‘Ooh, do I sense a promotion to Marketing Manager?’
‘Not a chance.’ He channelled his best Captain Von Trapp impression to counter the overwhelming desire to reach across and slam his lips to hers. ‘Way too much trouble for the abbey.’
She didn’t laugh as he’d expected. Her gaze was focussed on the computer. She pointed. ‘That’s my family. At Christmas. The holiday is a big deal for us.’
She had a big extended family. And every person in the photograph wore a big grin and a silly paper hat—the kind that came from Christmas crackers. There were pictures of huge platters of king prawns sitting either side of a baked ham that held pride of place on a table groaning with baked vegetables and salads. There were pictures of a game of backyard cricket and a water fight. It was about as far from the Christmases of his childhood as one could get.
He thought of George and his heart burned. What would his nephew’s future Christmases be like?
‘Of course, Aunt Katherine wasn’t there, which put a bit of a dampener on things.’
Katherine hadn’t been there? Why not? She’d told him—
He gulped the question back and glanced up to find Imogen... Well, she wasn’t actually glaring at him, but it was only one level away. There was definitely puzzlement in those eyes, and a lurking resentment.
Katherine hadn’t been at the Hartley family Christmas.
And Imogen blamed him for it. He’s difficult and demanding.
‘What do you do for Christmas, Jasper?’
‘Nothing.’
She straightened. ‘What, really? Nothing? No roast turkey or ham or...or a plum pudding or presents?’
‘Nothing,’ he repeated, a bad taste coating his tongue.
‘You don’t have your bachelor buddies come to stay or...or...?’
‘Nothing.’
The single word sounded stark.
It was stark.
He glanced back at the photographs on the screen. All that laughter and fun... He could never re-create that in a million years—he wouldn’t know where to start—but in the future he could at least make an effort. He had to. For George’s sake.
‘What happened to you, Jasper?’
He glanced across at her whispered words. Her eyes had welled with such sadness he reached out to touch her cheek, aching to offer her some form of comfort. He wanted to tell her not to cry for him, but the words wouldn’t come.
He pulled his hand back and lifted his chin. ‘Nothing of any note.’ It’d be better for her to not get involved in his life. Much better. ‘C’mon, it must be time for that swim.’
CHAPTER SIX
IMOGEN SLATHERED SUNSCREEN across her cheeks, surreptitiously watching her aunt as the older woman jiggled George on her knee. Despite Katherine’s no-nonsense briskness and seemingly cheerful demeanour, it couldn’t hide the tired lines stretching from her eyes or the occasional slump of her shoulders when she thought no one was watching.
Ever since Imogen had arrived on the island, she’d told herself to go slow, that there was time for her to win her aunt’s confidence, but she was coming to the conclusion that she’d chosen the wrong approach.
Except...
Her chest squeezed tight. Except the expression on Jasper’s face when she’d blurted out her question not ten minutes ago—what happened to you?—had shown her the folly of the direct approach.
The darkness that had stretched through his eyes... It had made her throat burn and her eyes sting. She’d have done anything in that moment to make him feel better.
That’s not what you’re here for.
With a sigh, she glanced at her aunt, who was playing some game with George that involved his fingers and toes. ‘Auntie Kay, what made you come to Tesoura?’
Katherine raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t want to work for Keith Coleman any more. I liked his wife, and I’d liked both Emily and Jasper, but they’d left home by then...’ She ran a gentle hand over George’s hair. ‘And after the blow-up, I thought Jasper could use a friendly face.’
She plonked herself in a seat. ‘What blow-up?’
‘Honestly, Imogen, it was in all the papers at the time.’ Her aunt turned to face her more fully. ‘Your lack of interest in current affairs is appalling.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I keep abreast of world affairs. And two years ago, I was in Paris.’ She’d been doing an internship at one of the big fashion houses there. Australian news didn’t rate much more than a line or two in the European papers. She racked her brain for what her mother must’ve told her at the time, but she’d been so full of the excitement of living and working in Paris—all that she’d been learning and experiencing—that if her mother had told her anything, it certainly hadn’t stuck.
‘There was a falling out between Jasper and the rest of his family. His brother-in-law accused him of assault and Jasper was charged—it was all set to go to court—but the charges were dropped.’
Her heart hammered against her ribs. ‘And?’
‘And that’s all anyone knows. Other than the fact that none of them have spoken to Jasper since. Or he to them.’
Had Jasper given his brother-in-law a taste of his own medicine? She hoped so. She really hoped so.
‘But as Keith is one of Australia’s leading politicians, the tabloids had a field day with the story—it seemed that every day there were front pages splashed with claims and counter claims. It was ugly, and an unpleasant time for the family.’
No wonder Jasper had leapt to the wrong conclusion the day he’d found her sitting at his computer chortling, Eureka.
‘Don’t you find yourself going—I don’t know—a bit stir-crazy here?’
Real amusement lit her aunt’s eyes. ‘You’ve only been here a week. You can’t be bored already.’
‘Of course not! This place is amazing, beautiful. But I couldn’t live here for good. It’s so...’ Empty.
‘I enjoy the peace and quiet.’
‘But don’t you miss catching a movie whenever you want, and seeing your friends—’ she went straight for the jugular ‘—and browsing bookstores?’
‘Are you trying to steal my staff, Ms Hartley?’
She swung around to find Jasper striding into the kitchen wearing a pair of brightly coloured board shorts, and both her and her aunt’s mouths dropped. Her pulse did a funny little cha-cha. ‘I, uh...’ She swallowed. ‘Well, I’d be fibbing if I said the family wouldn’t love it if Aunt Katherine came home.’
‘I’ll offer you double whatever she’s offering, Kate.’
‘Very funny.’ Katherine’s gaze raked up and down his length. Imogen tried not to follow suit. ‘But let me see if I have this right. You’re going swimming? With Imogen?’
‘Not at the same time.’ He flicked a glance in Imogen’s direction but just as quickly looked away again. ‘We’ll be taking it in turns to sit with George on the beach.’
Katherine’s brows rose. ‘But you’re going swimming...for fun.’
He stretched his neck first one way and then the other. ‘Imogen pointed out, quite rightly, that I have a perfectly good beach sitting on my front doorstep that I hardly seem to use. So I thought I’d...use it.’
Katherine took them in with one glance before giving a smile so blindingly bright Imogen had to blink a couple of times to clear her vision. ‘I see Imogen has been working her magic on you.’
Heat flushed up Imogen’s neck and into her face. What on earth...?
‘I’m glad to see you finally taking a bit of a holiday, Jasper.’
‘It’s not exactly a holiday. We—’
‘The two of you look the picture of youthful holiday fun.’
In her head, she begged her aunt to stop.
‘Why don’t you leave George with me and go enjoy yourselves?’
The look she sent the two of them was so arch Imogen prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her.
‘Wouldn’t dream of leaving you with the baby, Kate,’ Jasper said, not looking at Imogen. ‘Besides, George loves his daily romp on the beach.’
Without another word, Imogen grabbed her tote and the baby bag and led the way to the front door and outside. She didn’t want to meet Jasper’s gaze but ignoring him would only make things more awkward.
If that were possible.
She glanced up, but instead of derision or embarrassment she found laughter in those cool grey depths.
A breath whooshed out of her. ‘Wow!’ Jamming her hat to her head, she pulled it down low on her forehead. ‘Just. Wow. That was so not subtle.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘She used to be the coolest person I knew, but now...’ She shook her head.
Spreading the blanket beneath the palm trees in what had become their usual spot on this glorious stretch of beach, she scattered several of George’s toys across it, her mind racing. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
Jasper lowered George to the blanket. ‘Why not?’
She started, realising she’d spoken her concern out loud. ‘It’s just... I could’ve sworn when I first arrived that she was warning me off you.’
He eased down onto the blanket too. ‘How?’
No way was she telling him that. She adjusted her hat and sat. ‘Just telling me to be careful not to bother you. Things like that.’
‘She told you I was difficult and demanding, didn’t she?’
Damn.
‘She told me you were flighty and irresponsible.’
Her mouth fell open. His gaze lowered to her lips for a fraction of a moment, his eyes darkening, before snapping away again. Heat flared in her stomach before charging out to her extremities, making her swallow compulsively. If the man could create that kind of heat in a woman, just from a single smouldering glance, could you imagine—?
Don’t imagine.
‘You’re not flighty and irresponsible any more than I’m difficult and demanding.’
‘Exactly.’ With a superhuman effort she reined in her pulse. ‘So why...?’
‘Your aunt is a clever woman. I suspect she’s been hoping we’d keep our distance from each other, but George’s arrival has put paid to that plan.’
‘So why do such an about-face now and literally throw us together?’
He quirked an eyebrow, and she rested back on her hands. ‘She wasn’t trying to throw us together,’ she started slowly. ‘She was hoping to embarrass us and make us feel so awkward that we’d barely be able to look at each other.’
‘That’d be my guess.’
‘Why on earth would she do that? I know how well she thinks of you, while I used to be her favourite niece.’ But maybe she wasn’t any more. She rubbed a hand across her chest. Maybe somewhere along the way she’d lost her aunt’s love and respect.
‘Imogen, she could think well of me and yet at the same time not think we’d make a good match. She knows the kind of family I come from. I don’t blame her for not wanting that for you.’
‘Auntie Kay doesn’t judge people on their families. She—’
‘Go for your swim, Imogen. You’ve earned it. It doesn’t matter why Katherine would prefer not to see us hooking up together, because it’s simply not going to happen. It’s one of those ridiculous hypothetical scenarios that we needn’t concern ourselves with.’
A short sharp jab of pain went through her. It took an effort to keep her voice quiet and measured. ‘I don’t need warning off, Jasper.’
‘That’s not what I was doing.’
‘Yes, it was.’
He opened his mouth, hesitated and then dragged a hand down his face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. And it’s probably closer to the mark to say I was warning myself off.’
That didn’t seem very likely and her disbelief must’ve shown. He picked George up and held him in front of him—almost as if he were using him as a human shield. ‘You’re an attractive woman, and you make me laugh. Now, I don’t mean to make your aunt sound asexual, but I’ve known her since I was twelve years old. She practically feels like my aunt.’
She frowned, not sure where he was going with this.
‘So, in essence, I’ve spent the last two years on this island without any female company that I’d classify as beguiling or tempting.’
He thought her beguiling and tempting?
‘I can’t deny that I enjoy your company. I also appreciate all you’ve done to help George. I’m just reminding myself not to enjoy it too much.’
He thought her beguiling and tempting?
She moistened her lips, and just for a moment wondered what it’d be like
if they did allow themselves to enjoy each other’s company too much.
She tried to shake the thought off. It was crazy—and crazy-making. She wasn’t interested in a fling, and instinct told her he wasn’t a fling kind of guy either. Neither of them needed that kind of complication in their lives. He needed to focus on his little nephew—and she wanted to help with that, not become a hindrance.
‘You know what?’ She rose. ‘I might go for that swim now.’
He didn’t say anything, just nodded, but she was minutely aware of her body as she untied her sarong—her fingers fumbling with the knot. Jasper thought her beguiling and tempting? The thought awakened something inside her—a sexy siren who wanted to tempt and beguile and make a man lose control—and while she did her best to ignore that siren call, she was unable to keep the sway from her hips as she walked towards the water.
She did her best to lose herself to the push and pull of the waves, to the invigorating assault of cold water on overheated flesh, and to the thrill of catching perfectly formed waves until she’d worn that siren out—or, at least, had numbed her with cold and exercise. Only then did she emerge back on dry land—out of breath and ready to drop.
Jasper tossed her a towel. ‘How was that?’
The siren snapped to attention and Imogen could’ve wept. She dried off her arms and legs extra vigorously. ‘Brilliant. Just give me a moment and you can tag-team me.’ She pulled her sea shirt over her head and reached for the dry T-shirt she had in her tote but froze at the hunger that blazed in Jasper’s face. Every desire she’d ever had roared to life in an instant.
With a tensing of his jaw, he dragged his gaze away, and, giving herself a mental slap, she scrambled into her dry shirt, wound her sarong back around her waist—not bothering to tie it, knowing her fingers wouldn’t work—and knelt on the other side of the blanket from him, careful to keep her eyes fixed on George.
‘Your turn!’ Her voice emerged too loud and the brightness she injected into it jarred. She’d meant to physically tag him—slap her hand to his—but she changed her mind. One touch and he’d realise she was burning up.
Blowing out a breath, she smiled at George, picked up his teddy bear and danced it along the blanket. ‘Water’s great once you get in.’
The Maid, the Millionaire and the Baby Page 9