Her heart quickened at the confession. “And all I wanted to do was fling my arms around you, because I was so happy you were still alive.”
“We had fun, didn’t we?” he said.
“Yeah, we did.”
The song finished and they stood there, looking at each other. Imogen didn’t want to let him go. It was so comforting to be held in his arms, so right. She’d dreamed about feeling his body against hers for years and now it was a reality. She was close enough that if she just moved a tiny bit, her lips would meet his. As she took a breath to do just that, a loud rock song kicked in, startling her and breaking the spell. She stepped away and Christian led her off the dance floor, back to where his father was sitting.
It was for the best really.
Imogen was keen to catch up with Mr. Barker, find out what he’d been up to over the last fourteen years, maybe ask for his advice on the roses she’d planted that weren’t doing so well. He’d be pleased she’d kept up her gardening after he’d left, though she’d had to resort to books as the new gardener had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her.
They chatted well into the evening until it was time for Libby and Adrian to leave to catch their flight to Hawaii. Kate was staying with her aunt, Susan, for the week.
When all the guests had left, Imogen sat down at the kitchen table, where Christian, Piper and George had all flopped.
“What a fabulous day,” Piper said, sighing.
“It was always going to be, especially with Libby organizing it,” George said, chuckling.
Imogen relaxed and kicked off her shoes, groaning as they escaped their torture device. “Are we cleaning up now?” she asked, hoping the answer was going to be no.
“I’m too tired to deal with this mess tonight,” Piper declared.
“I agree. Shall we reconvene tomorrow?” George suggested.
What a relief. “How about lunch time? I’ll bring pizza.”
“It’s a date,” George said, getting to his feet. “I’m going to crash here. There’s plenty of room if you want to stay,” he offered.
“Sounds good to me,” Christian said.
Imogen hesitated. Sunday morning was her normal brunch appointment with her father and there were some things she wanted to discuss with him.
“I’d love to, but I have a cat that needs to be fed in the morning. I can only ask my neighbor to help out so many times,” Piper said.
“I’ll head off as well,” Imogen said. “I’ve got some things I need to do tomorrow morning.”
She and Piper walked out together. Imogen yawned. Right now, all she wanted to do was sleep.
“I’ll catch you tomorrow,” she called to Piper and drove home.
She had to work out how she was going to confront her father in the morning.
Chapter 5
Imogen’s first thought upon waking was of Christian. She smiled as she remembered their dance and how, when the truth had come out, they had immediately been able to talk the way they had talked as teenagers.
Then she frowned. The truth about Christian’s disappearance was something Imogen had to address with her father that morning. She swept back her bedsheets and padded into the bathroom.
She had no idea how to broach the subject. She couldn’t very well accuse Remy outright. He probably wouldn’t remember Christian or Mr. Barker and never responded well to accusations in any case. Imogen would have to find a way to bring the topic up gently. Even though there was no way to change the past, she wanted to understand why he’d done it. Why he’d lied to her.
Imogen switched off the water, toweled herself dry before dressing in jeans and a T-shirt. She’d head around to Libby and Adrian’s straight after brunch.
Then she hesitated in front of the mirror. Her father hated to see her in anything that wasn’t designer label. It was the reason why her work clothes were so different from her weekend clothes. She debated how much her outfit would affect the way her father responded to her, versus the convenience of being able to leave from brunch to go and clean at Libby’s.
She really wanted her father to listen to her.
Sighing, she changed into something he would approve of – a full knee-length skirt in a bright crimson, with a matching jacket and a white shirt – leaving the jeans and T-shirt out on the bed so she could change on her return. Then slipping on a pair of comfortable but high-end flats, she swiped on some lip gloss and checked her reflection again in the long mirror in her room. Stylish chic.
Imogen trotted along the path that ran from the guesthouse to Chateau Fontaine. At the break in the trees she stopped to admire the house she’d grown up in. House was probably too mild a word. It was really a mansion designed like a French chateau with its big brick chimneys, pointed slate roof and long windows. Her father had designed it for her mother, who had loved the chateaus she’d seen when traveling in France, where she’d met Imogen’s father.
To Imogen it was just the place where she'd grown up, where she’d laughed and cried, and been treated as older than her years.
With a sigh she continued walking up the steps to the terrace and around the corner; her father was seated at the outdoor setting waiting for her.
“Morning, Papa,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
“Ma bichette. How was the wedding?”
“Beautiful. Adrian and Libby are so happy together. I’m heading over there later to help clean up.”
Her father frowned. “Surely the rock star can afford people to clean up for him?”
Imogen smiled at his surprise. “Adrian doesn’t like strangers in his space. Besides, it will give me a chance to catch up with Piper, George and Christian.”
She waited for the question she knew would come.
“And who are these George and Christian?”
“They’re friends of Adrian’s. Went to school with him.” This was her chance. “Actually you probably know Christian, Papa. Remember Mr. Barker who used to be our gardener? Christian is his son. I caught up with Mr. Barker last night as well.”
Her father shrugged. “I do not recall him.”
“Don’t you remember the summer Piper went back to Australia, I made friends with Christian and then they left without warning? I got you to hire a private investigator to search for him but they were never found.”
“Vaguely.” Her father waved his hand before picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
Either he really had no recollection of the incident, which painted him as the most self-absorbed person, or he was pretending. Imogen decided to push the point.
“Oh, Papa, you must. You were the one who asked them to leave.”
His eyes flitted up to hers in shock before he composed himself. “What nonsense. Who told you that?” The shock and hurt on her father’s face made Imogen glance at her hands.
“They did.”
“Well of course those type of people would tell such lies. I am surprised you would believe them, ma bichette.” His tone was disapproving.
Imogen bit her lip. It hadn’t occurred to her they could be lying. She forced herself to look at her father. “It’s strange a private investigator couldn’t find them and yet they’d only moved to another part of the city.”
Her father sighed, a sound full of disappointment. “I never wanted to tell you this, but if you are going to insist.”
“Tell me what?”
“Ah, well it was a messy business.” He pursed his lips. “Mr. Barker came to me because his brother had significant gambling debts. He asked for a loan, which I was of course happy to do. When we got back from our week in Paris, they had both disappeared.” He shook his head. “If they were indeed in Houston, it sounds like the investigator I hired was a charlatan as well.”
It was a perfectly reasonable explanation but Imogen couldn’t take what either of them said at face value. Mrs. Povey brought out the cooked breakfast and Imogen dropped the subject. It was too confusing. Someone was lying and she had to figure out the tr
uth. She had to know who she could trust.
Instead she asked, “What have you got planned for today, Papa?”
***
It was close to midday when Christian headed to the kitchen to check if George was up yet. He’d been out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow the night before and obviously needed his sleep. He found his friend sitting at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of coffee.
“Morning. Coffee’s over there,” George said.
Chris made a cup and settled down next to George. His stomach rumbled but he remembered Imogen’s promise to bring pizza. He could wait a little while.
“Great night,” he said, really just to make conversation.
“Yeah, they deserve to be together.”
Chris smiled. George was tough, authoritative and a regular guy, but about certain things he was a complete softie. It appeared seeing Adrian in love was one of those things.
“Kate will enjoy the week with her cousins.”
“She’s already got Adrian to promise to take her to Hawaii on the next school break, though.”
Chris chuckled and sipped his coffee. He glanced out the window at all the decorations still hanging cheerfully in the garden. It wouldn’t take them too long to pull them down and put the place back to normal.
The front doorbell chimed and then came the sound of a key turning in a lock. Piper called out, “Just me. Are you both up and decent?”
“Yes and no,” George called back and Piper laughed, walking toward the kitchen.
“Is that coffee I smell?”
Chris was about to tell her to help herself when George got up and poured her a cup. He smiled.
“Thanks,” Piper said as she put the box she was carrying on the counter, flopped onto a stool and cradled the coffee George handed her. “What a gorgeous night.”
“Yep,” Chris agreed. It was about all he was capable of saying. He yawned. His aim was to have the house cleaned up as soon as possible so he could go home and have a nap.
The doorbell rang again.
“That’ll be Imogen,” Piper said. “Can you get it, Chris? I’m not moving yet.”
Chris was on his feet before she finished her sentence. He’d been waiting for Imogen to arrive. Unless she was a superb actress it had been real shock on her face when he’d confronted her about their summer. For years he’d painted her as a fickle princess and now it seemed she’d been as much a victim as he had.
He opened the door to find her balancing two pizza boxes, a bottle of soda and her bag. Quickly he took the bottle and pizza from her. “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
Unlike the rest of them, Imogen looked fresh and refreshed, as if she’d had ten hours’ sleep followed by a massage. There was no hint she’d spent all yesterday rushing around helping out at a wedding and had had a late night.
But it was the first time he’d seen her dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. At the dinners they’d had she’d been dressed in work stuff – designer outfit after designer outfit. So this was the casual Imogen. He liked it.
The smile she gave him was a little cautious and when he just stood there, she slipped past him into the house. “Is Piper here yet?” She headed into the kitchen and Chris closed the front door and followed her.
“Just got here,” Piper called.
“Hallelujah, she brought food,” George said as Chris entered carrying the pizza boxes. He dumped them on the kitchen bench and George grabbed paper towel out of the cupboard to use as plates. “Fewer dishes,” he explained as he passed it around.
“Do you want a coffee?” Chris asked Imogen.
“No, thanks. I’ve had my morning coffee already. I’ll stick to water.”
“You’re disgustingly cheerful this morning,” George commented. “What time did you get up?”
“She looks that way every morning,” Piper said. “This girl does not do hungover or tired.”
Imogen shrugged and smiled. “It helps when someone prepares you brunch,” she said.
“You were up early enough to have Sunday brunch with your father?” Piper asked, obviously incredulous.
“I can’t miss it if we’re both in town.”
Chris watched Imogen. Had she asked her father about what had happened all those years ago? He handed her a glass of water and grabbed a slice of pizza. It was some kind of gourmet pizza with the lot. He bit into it and the flavors hit him. His eyes rolled back. So good.
“So what’s the plan of action today?” Imogen asked.
“We clean up everything, inside and out. Dad’s going to bring his truck around later and he’ll return the hire furniture on Monday. Then we go home and sleep.”
“I’ll start outside while you guys eat,” Imogen said. “Those clouds look like they could bring rain later.” She walked outside and began packing up chairs.
She’d barely acknowledged him, even seemed reluctant to be near him.
Had her father said something? Or was Imogen regretting her enthusiasm the night before?
Annoyed, he grabbed the pizza box and headed out to survey the garden. Imogen was working about as far from the house as she could get. Right next to her were yards of fairy lights and decorations to take down. With a grin he headed straight toward her.
Someone inside turned the stereo on, and rock music blared into the backyard. Music to work to. He nodded in satisfaction as he deliberately squeezed between tables to where Imogen was folding up the chairs.
“Need a hand with that?” he asked, waiting for her reaction.
“No, I’m fine.” She barely glanced at him.
This was definitely not the Imogen of the previous night. “Not feeling very chatty today,” he commented.
“There’s a lot of work to be done,” she said as she lifted several chairs and carried them toward the garage. She looked tiny under them.
“Here, let me take them,” Chris said.
“It’s fine,” Imogen said. “I’m stronger than I look.” She smiled at him this time but it was a false smile. “Why don’t you unhook the lights? I’m too short to reach them.”
Chris watched her walk away. Something was bothering her and he would get to the bottom of it later. The sooner this place was cleared, the quicker he could get Imogen alone.
He got to work unhooking the fairy lights and winding them up. As he worked, he kept an eye on what Imogen was doing. She’d moved all the chairs and together Piper and George had taken in all of the tables. Now she was stretching for one of the lanterns but she was inches too short. He wandered over and reached up over her to unclip it, standing close enough to her to feel the warmth of her body.
“Thanks,” she said, reaching for the lantern. Her hand grasped the handle but he didn’t let go.
She was so close to him, her fingers brushing his and he wanted to curl his hand around hers and hold on. The depth of his emotion stunned him, but at her tug he let go of the lantern. She gazed at him and it wasn’t the steady, open look from their day together; it was more wary, more distrustful.
“What did your father say, Imogen?” he asked quietly.
Her lips parted in surprise and he had an urge to kiss her. He lowered his head and she stepped back quickly, clearing her throat.
“I’ll clean up inside. I can’t reach anything else.” She fled inside and Chris let her. He’d hit a nerve and he knew who’d exposed it.
Remy Fontaine.
It wasn’t anger that stirred within him: it was determination. Chris had let him get between them once. He wasn’t going to let him do it again.
***
Imogen sighed as the door closed behind her, her heartbeat pattering overly fast in her chest. What had that all been about?
Christian had looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her, had held on to the lantern for longer as she’d been all but rubbed up against him.
And didn’t her body like it?
She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything for Christian. Not until she’d figured o
ut who was telling the truth about what had happened all those years earlier. She would be devastated if she trusted him over her father only to discover he’d lied. Imogen didn’t know why she was even considering it. Her father never lied to her – the feedback he’d given her on her designs proved it. If ever there was a time to lie, it was then.
She walked down the corridor to the guest room where they’d got ready the day before. There was an overnight bag in there that wasn’t hers or Piper’s and a suit lying wrinkled on the floor. Christian had obviously spent the night in there.
The idea sent warmth through her but she ignored it. Instead she stripped off the sheets and went down the hall to throw them in the washing machine before going back and picking the suit up off the floor and folding it neatly back into the overnight bag. She tried to be impersonal about it but Christian’s scent permeated the clothes and she caught herself inhaling deeply a couple of times. He smelled wonderful – all masculine and spicy.
Annoyed with herself she put his bag in the front hall and tidied up the rest of the room. She carried her and Piper’s things to the front door too and left them there so they wouldn’t forget them. Then she wandered through the house checking what else needed to be done.
In Kate’s room she changed the sheets and tidied up the things strewn over her floor. Then she entered the male side of the house.
George had slept in the spare bedroom at this end and Libby and Adrian’s room needed straightening up as well.
Imogen didn’t mind housework. She’d not had to do a thing except keep her room tidy in all the years she’d lived at home, so she liked feeling useful, liked the mindlessness of tidying while she thought about other things.
The only problem was today her mind wanted to think about Christian and about her father’s explanation.
She didn’t know how to get to the truth.
If Christian was lying, then she didn’t want to start any kind of relationship with him. She needed to be able to trust her friends fully and if she couldn’t, then it wasn’t worth it.
But if it was her father … She wasn’t sure how she would deal with that betrayal.
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