Kate opened the door and ushered her inside. “We waited for you,” she said as she showed Imogen into the living area.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she gravitated toward Libby and Piper with the garment bag over her shoulder. She laid it over the back of one of the empty chairs before she turned to greet Adrian, George and the friend she hadn’t met yet.
He was facing away from her, dressed in jeans and a casual blue shirt.
Adrian smiled at Imogen and interrupted the conversation. “Chris, you haven’t met Imogen yet.”
Chris turned as Adrian said, “Chris Barker, this is Imogen Fontaine.”
Imogen stared at the face of the man who turned around. The blue eyes and the neat brown hair were the same as those of the teenaged guy she’d known.
The guy who had disappeared after the most perfect few weeks of summer.
The guy she’d imagined meeting again in a million different ways.
Her heart stuttered and her breath caught.
After all this time.
It was Christian.
Chapter 2
“Christian.” The name came out of Imogen’s mouth without her meaning to.
Adrian glanced between them and asked, “Do you two know each other?”
“We met as kids,” Imogen said, smiling at Chris. “But we haven’t seen each other in years.”
There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition on his face. He frowned for a moment as if trying to place her. This was nothing like the reunion she’d fantasized about. Her excitement faded as fast as the wrong dye in a synthetic fabric.
He didn’t remember her.
Her throat closed but she forced a smile back onto her face and to fill the awkward silence she added, “Christian’s father was the head gardener at our house for a few years.” Until they’d suddenly disappeared one weekend, never to be heard of again.
“The girl with the tree house,” Christian said, snapping his fingers together.
“Yes,” Imogen said, nodding. Was that all those weeks had been to him? A novelty tree house?
He turned to Adrian and George. “She had this two-story tree house in her garden with a slide that wrapped around the trunk.”
“Sounds awesome,” Kate piped up.
“You’ll have to come over and check it out one day,” Imogen said, glad to move the conversation forward.
“You still live there?” Christian asked, surprised.
Imogen nodded. “At the guesthouse.” Her father had kicked up such a fuss when she suggested moving out the first time that she’d agreed to stay, but only if she could have her own place; the disused guesthouse was the perfect compromise.
He didn’t comment further but she could tell he was judging her.
It was hardly any of his business. She didn’t know why she even cared what he thought.
“Imogen, is my dress in there?” Kate asked, pointing to the garment bag.
“There’s a mock-up.”
“We’ll have a look after dinner,” Libby promised and called them all to the table.
Relieved by the change of topic, Imogen followed them into the dining room.
***
Dinner was difficult.
Imogen sat between Christian and Piper, and Christian – or Chris as it appeared he was called now – ignored her, instead talking to Adrian, Kate and George, catching up on news he’d missed during his time overseas. Imogen tried not to take it to heart, but it wasn’t often she was completely ignored. Usually people wanted to know all about her father and Tour de Force. She had to admit it hurt Christian didn’t remember their summer together. It had been the highlight of her teenage years – a couple of weeks when she’d felt so daring and naughty and alive, when meeting up with Christian had been her little secret – but it appeared it had been just another summer break to him.
She sighed quietly.
No matter how she tried to focus on the conversation Libby and Piper were having, she couldn’t shake off the awareness of Christian beside her. He radiated heat and her skin prickled.
“Imogen. Do you want to do the dresses now?” Libby asked.
Imogen blinked and realized everyone was watching her. “Of course,” she said and pushed back her seat. She brushed by Christian and he jerked away, while a zing raced up her arm.
He couldn’t be clearer he wanted nothing to do with her.
She held her head high and walked into the living room to pick up the dresses and then followed Libby, Piper and Kate into Kate’s bedroom for the fitting.
She didn’t need him.
She had friends who needed her.
***
Chris let out the breath he’d been holding when Imogen walked out of the room. God, he hadn’t been expecting to meet her again, ever.
The shock of seeing her, the instant delight on her face when she recognized him, had been so hard not to respond to.
But he’d always promised himself he wouldn’t give her the time of day after what she’d done.
After what her father had done.
“So Chris, you don’t remember the lovely Imogen?” George asked with a grin on his face. “I can’t imagine she was ever the ugly duckling.”
She hadn’t been. He’d thought she was a pixie when he’d first seen her up in her tree house, all short black hair, tiny frame and a pink dress with jagged hem, the type that Tinkerbell and other fairies wore.
He had to say something. He shrugged. “It was only a couple of weeks.”
“You sure made an impression on her,” George said.
It appeared he had, and Chris didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d convinced himself she’d been playing with him, setting him up to get his father fired. The fact she would even acknowledge that time surprised him.
Before he was forced to comment, Kate came running into the room. “Uncle Ade, check out my dress!”
It was bright yellow and set her dark red hair aflame. “It’s a practice copy,” she explained as she twirled to show it off.
“Damn good practice,” Adrian said. “Stand still, kiddo, so we can have a look.”
Chris knew very little about dresses but even he could tell it was not something you’d buy off the rack. The straps were wide and the top section fitted, but in a way that suited a nearly eleven-year-old, and the skirt flared out to knee length. A great combination of sophistication, but with a childish flair.
“Did Imogen design this?” George asked.
Kate nodded. “I told her what I wanted and she drew it up. She’s going to make it in the same color as Piper’s dress.” She twirled again, obviously enamored with her new dress.
So Imogen had inherited her father’s talent for design.
“Kate, come back here. Imogen wants to check the fit,” Libby called.
The little girl waved and raced away down the corridor.
“Must be costing a pretty penny to get dresses designed by Tour de Force,” Chris commented, unable to stay silent.
Adrian shook his head. “It’s not costing us anything. Imogen said the designs were doodles and didn’t want to charge for them. She and Piper have been friends for years and Libby just slipped in with them.” His voice was warm and full of praise for Imogen. “Piper and Imogen have made the move to the US so much easier for Libby.”
Adrian had met his fiancée, Libby, while on tour in Australia. They’d fallen in love and Libby had moved countries to be with him. Chris had met her before heading overseas and he could see why his friend loved her. She was so down-to-earth, and a genuinely nice person who cared about those around her.
He’d once thought Imogen was like that.
He forced away the thought. It was obvious why Imogen would accept Libby. Libby was in the right social circle, marrying a rock star. “What does Piper do?”
“She’s a journalist,” George told him.
“Fashion pages?” There had to be a reason Imogen would associate with someone so middle class.
“No.
She’s an investigative journalist.” George said.
“Piper and Imogen have been friends since middle grade and Libby and Piper were friends in Australia during elementary school,” Adrian explained.
Piper’s father must be important for Imogen’s father to allow them to associate with one another.
What did he care? It really didn’t matter. After the wedding he wouldn’t have anything more to do with Imogen.
“We need a male opinion,” Piper announced from the doorway. She wore a royal blue dress that at first glance appeared a bit risqué – there was a lot of skin showing – but on further examination was completely decent and very elegant.
It had to be one of Imogen’s designs.
George gave a low wolf-whistle.
“It’s not too much?” Piper asked, plucking at the sides and moving forward. “I love it but do you think it’s all right for a wedding?”
“It seems decent,” Chris said. As the words came out of his mouth he noticed Imogen behind Piper and her face fell. What did she want, her friend to look indecent at the wedding? Mind you, the designs of Tour de Force were all rather out there so maybe that was what she was going for.
He didn’t understand fashion and he had no desire to understand Imogen.
He’d get through this wedding and then he wouldn’t need to see her again.
Absentmindedly he rubbed at a twinge in his chest.
Piper and Imogen disappeared down the hallway again and Chris turned his attention to Adrian. “I still can’t believe you’re getting married, man.” His friend had always been shy and Chris hadn’t thought he’d ever find a match.
Adrian turned his head in the direction of Libby’s voice and smiled. “I can’t imagine life without Libby in it.” His tone was full of love.
Chris was pleased. When he discovered his friend was getting married he’d been worried the woman would be taking advantage of him, marrying Adrian because he was also Kent Downer, rock star. But one meeting with Libby had put those worries to bed. It was obvious the two were deeply in love and she loved Adrian’s niece, Kate as well.
He, on the other hand, had no time for women – no time for anything much but work at the moment. He’d just returned from a three-month tour of his company’s operations, ensuring their legal teams were ready for upcoming legislation changes and prepping for a big merger. His role on the trip had been to meet people and learn from one of the senior lawyers, who was setting up for retirement.
It was an amazing opportunity for a thirty-year-old but the company had decided they needed to invest in talent early in order to keep them. Having said that, he’d seen nothing but hotels, boardrooms and airport lounges for close to three months. Sitting here in his friends’ dining room having a home-cooked meal was his idea of luxury. He hoped to have the whole weekend to recover and relax.
When the women returned from their dress fitting, Libby directed them all into the living room so they could talk weddings.
By the time he wandered in, there was only a seat next to Imogen. He checked again and then sat on the couch next to her, keeping as much distance between them as possible. He was annoyed at himself. He shouldn’t feel this much emotion – anger, annoyance, attraction – for someone he’d spent part of a summer with almost fifteen years ago. He was determined not to let her affect him in any way. He ignored her and turned his attention to Libby.
Libby had a notebook, which appeared to be full of lists. Chris didn’t know how she could have so many. From what Adrian had told him it was going to be a small wedding in their backyard with fewer than thirty guests. There couldn’t be too much to organize.
He only half listened as Libby rattled off details of caterers, decorators, clothing needs, and cake requirements. She had everything under control. Next to him, Imogen fidgeted, playing with a bead that hung off the bottom of her orange top.
He wanted to grab her hand and tell her to hold still. This kind of small-scale wedding might not interest her but it meant something to their friends.
She really was a posh princess.
“To avoid the paparazzi we’ve chosen three potential dates, all within the time Mum and Dad will be out from Australia,” Libby said. “You guys will know the correct date but the different suppliers will have all three dates.”
Seemed like a lot of work, but Chris had seen all the photos in the gossip magazines when Adrian’s identity had been revealed. The paparazzi had been relentless, hounding them for weeks. It appeared to have died down now though, but they couldn’t be too careful. “Book anything in my name if it will help,” he said. “There aren’t many people who will link me with Adrian.”
“Really? That would be great,” Libby gushed and made a note on her notebook. “Are you still happy to be MC as well?”
He nodded. Talking was something he was good at.
“Imogen is on for hair and makeup?” Libby phrased it as a question.
“Of course. I can’t wait.” Imogen smiled and seemed genuinely excited.
Chris frowned. Shouldn’t she have ‘people’ to do that kind of thing for her?
Before he could comment, Libby had already gone on to the next point on her list. He snuck a look at Imogen and caught her watching him. He put on his best disinterested negotiation expression and turned back to the conversation, but not before he saw the flit of hurt across Imogen’s face.
He felt like a jerk, but he reminded himself that innocence was Imogen’s game. She liked to pretend to be something she wasn’t. He’d been so convinced she’d meant what she’d said about wanting to see him again that he hadn’t believed her father when he’d said she wanted him to leave her alone. That he’d crossed some boundary and his father would need to find another job. That they weren’t welcome at Chateau Fontaine any longer.
He’d been a fool of a kid, but he’d learned his lesson. No one would fool him again.
Especially not Imogen.
***
Imogen drove away from the dinner, her cheeks aching from pretending to be happy all evening. All she wanted to do was crawl under a mat and hide, but appearances mattered. She couldn’t let Christian know she was bothered by his disinterest.
But now, alone in her car, driving along the lit streets, she could stop smiling, she could let out her pain and she could cry.
As tears ran down her face she brushed them away, annoyed at herself. It was her own fault. Over the years she’d built Christian up on to a pedestal, comparing every date to what she remembered as the perfect time in her fifteen-year-old life. The excitement, the adventure, the love. He’d become her happy thought. She’d often go out to her tree house and remember that summer.
And didn’t that say a whole lot about her maturity and lack of close friends?
Of course he would be different. Of course he couldn’t live up to the character she’d built for him. It was foolish of her to even be disappointed.
But for him to remember nothing of that summer, to not even remember her – well that stung.
She let out a shaky breath.
It didn’t matter. Since then she’d found new friends with Libby and developed a place for herself at Tour de Force.
She was happy.
She just needed to find a new happy thought.
***
When she pulled through the gates of Chateau Fontaine, and saw the lights on in the main house, she debated briefly whether to go and visit her father. She didn’t really want company, so she continued down the drive to where it split to the guesthouse. Normally when she felt this way she’d wander through the gardens to her tree house, but Christian had ruined it for her. She wouldn’t be able to go back there until she’d reconciled herself to the fact her memory had played her false.
Instead she took a long shower and climbed into bed with her sketchbook. This was her guilty pleasure, sketching clothing ideas more suited to the street than to the runway. When she’d put enough good designs together, she would pitch the idea to her father a
nd he would let her develop her own line of clothing, allowing everyone to have the kind of style and trend that were usually unaffordable. Adding it to the Tour de Force range would give it instant brand recognition and she was sure it would be a success.
She just had to convince her father of it.
So far, whenever she’d brought up the idea of branching out, her father had laughed and waved her off. The next time she suggested it, she’d have a full business plan and proposal to back her up.
Happy to have something to focus on other than Christian, she worked until late.
***
The next week started much like the week before had ended—with Imogen running late. She really had to learn to say no to people, but Lacey always helped her when she needed it. By the time she’d finished hand-stitching lace on the latest haute couture outfit she was so stressed about being late that she had to take a second to calm herself before she hurried into the room where the weekly meeting was already underway. She mouthed ‘sorry’ to her father and slid into the empty seat at the back of the room. Jacques smirked at her from the other side of the table but she ignored him and concentrated on what her father was saying.
He was reviewing the previous month’s sales figures. They weren’t as good as the previous month; in fact they’d dropped significantly. It was good the Fall/Winter fashion show was right around the corner and that starlet Nikki Jameson had worn a Tour de Force dress to the Oscars.
Remy went through the usual items on the agenda before he raised the subject of the next year’s fall collection.
“We need something really outstanding. Something that is fresh and new.” Remy looked around the room at the people in there. “I think it is time to give Imogen a chance to be head designer on a collection.”
Imogen gasped as her father beamed at her. She glanced around the room to be met with a killer glare from Jacques, who had designed that year’s collection, a surprised expression from Abigail, who was the production manager, and a big grin from Derek, who made the patterns and toiles. This was not going to endear her to those aiming for a spot in Remy’s inner circle, but she couldn’t prevent the rush of excitement through her body. Papa had seen her wedding dress design and maybe he’d changed his mind, decided her changes were the way Tour de Force should be headed. This was her opportunity to finally show him what she could do.
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