Christian took hold of her hand. “Where do you want to begin?”
“The rollercoaster.” She’d seen it from a distance as they drove in and was worried she’d chicken out if she didn’t do it right away.
Christian laughed. “All right. Let’s get some tickets.”
They wandered along a path. There was a mixture of families with small children, teenagers on their own and young adults. Imogen glanced up at a ride proclaiming itself the Iron Eagle Zipline as the chair at the top of the line came rushing back to earth. Her heart thumped at the screams issuing from the chair. “We need to do that as well,” she said.
“Whatever you want,” Christian said. “Come on, the ticket booth is over there.”
While Christian bought the tickets she scanned the park, deciding what else she wanted to do.
“Here.” He handed her a ticket. “It’s a day pass.”
Imogen hadn’t offered to pay. “How much do I owe you?”
He gave her a look. “You’re my date; I’m paying today.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted, “Unless you want me to pay for my ticket from Friday night.”
She closed her mouth again. He was right. If he wanted to pay for her she should let him. It was weird because she usually paid when she went on dates. “All right,” she said. “But I should warn you that I’m expecting both donuts and cotton candy.”
He grinned. “I can manage that.”
They lined up for the rollercoaster, the Boardwalk Bullet. It was huge, and as Imogen watched a carriage plummet down the first drop, she squeezed Christian’s hand. She was going to do this. She was going to ride this wooden rollercoaster. She was going to take this risk.
It wasn’t long before it was their turn. The front seat was free and Christian pulled her in.
“It’s the best spot.”
Imogen wasn’t so sure she wanted to be right at the front, but she went with him and waited for the safety bar to lock in to place. She glanced at it dubiously. It wasn’t a whole lot to keep her from falling out.
The carriage moved and Imogen clutched Christian’s hand. This was it! Nerves and excitement clattered queasily around in her stomach. The carriage was dragged up an incline and Imogen could see across the parking lot and marina to one side and the Texas Gulf on the other. Then, before she could catch her breath, the ride was going around a bend and dropping straight down.
“Hands up,” Christian shouted, putting his hands up in the air and hers went with him. Her stomach dropped along with the ride and she shrieked as they twisted and turned. It was insane. Her body was thrown violently around and she had no control over what she was doing, where she was going.
It was terrifying and it was thrilling.
She didn’t breathe properly until they came to a slow stop.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, her skin tingling.
“What did you think?” Christian asked as they exited the ride.
She couldn’t think straight. Adrenalin was racing around her body and she couldn’t stand still. What a buzz. “That was so much fun.” She tapped her hands on her thighs. “Can we go again?”
“Sure thing.”
She flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Thanks.” She grabbed his hand before he could kiss her again. “Come on.” She dragged him back to the line.
***
They rode the rollercoaster another three times before Imogen declared she’d had enough and they tried some of the other amusement rides.
Chris followed wherever she wanted to go, caught up in her exuberance. True to her word she made her way through cotton candy, donuts and whatever other snack foods caught her interest. All the sugar probably helped fuel her energy.
This was the Imogen he remembered from his childhood. So full of life, passion and excitement. She’d been missing her spark for several weeks. Her father had almost snuffed it out.
Determined not to let thoughts of Remy ruin his day, he noted Imogen’s energy was waning.
“Do you want to walk along the boardwalk and visit Stingray Reef?” he asked.
“Yes, please. I’m feeling a little queasy.”
He chuckled, not in the least bit surprised. They’d spun and swirled and dropped and swung. He barely knew which way was up. But he felt like a kid again.
Stopping at a food vendor he bought a bottle of water for them each and then took her hand and together they wandered along the boardwalk. The gulf was calm today and lapped against the pilings, producing a soothing sound. There were a lot of people out and about and Chris was happy to mosey between them.
“There are a lot of great restaurants here,” Imogen commented.
Chris stared at her. “You can’t possibly be hungry.” He couldn’t believe how much sugar she’d consumed.
She grinned. “Not at the moment, but dinner isn’t far off.”
He shook his head. She was incredible.
They wandered the length of the boardwalk to the Aquarium Restaurant where the stingray reef was. There were a lot of families in there with small children but that didn’t stop Imogen. Before he could protest, she’d bought them tickets and handed him his share of stingray food.
He followed her around the tank to where there was a clear spot. The stingrays were all on the other side being fed by other visitors; Imogen didn’t seem to mind though.
“Look at the way they’re coming right up out of the water,” she said, pointing. She perched herself on the edge of the tank and dangled one of the fish in the water.
Several of the stingrays broke away from the main pack and glided over toward them. Imogen stayed seated and kept still, watching their approach. She was calm, and not at all squeamish like some of the other tourists. When the stingray rose to the surface, she let go of the fish and stroked a hand down its back.
“It’s so soft,” she said.
Another stingray rose to the surface and splashed with its body. Water washed over the edge of the tank, wetting Imogen’s pants.
“Oh,” she said, twisting to see the wet spot now covering her butt.
Christian waited for her reaction.
“We may need to go shopping after this,” Imogen said and turned her attention back to the stingrays.
She was wonderful. Little things didn’t faze her. Chris moved closer and dangled one of his fish into the tank. Two stingrays dove for it and the wave of water splashed up over his front.
“I think you might be right,” he said, glancing at his wet T-shirt. He laughed.
***
When they were done feeding the stingrays, Imogen dragged him into the kitschiest souvenir shop he’d seen. It was full of boardwalk gear and novelty items. Imogen was like a kid in a candy shop as she went through the T-shirts and chose ones for them both.
“Papa never let me have kitsch stuff when I was little.”
Then she purchased a skirt to replace her soaked pants and used the change room to get changed.
Pleased with her purchases she dragged Chris into the other shops in the area. There was a ladies fashion shop where Imogen spent a lot of time, browsing through the clothes and examining the labels. She wasn’t interested in purchasing as much as checking what was available. It was fascinating to watch her. She held out garments, checking the seams and testing the fabric by stretching or scrunching it. She had a long conversation with the shop assistant and took a card from her.
Chris was content being with her, watching the joy she got from talking about clothes and examining the outfits. Clothing wasn’t just something to wear to her: it was an extension of personality.
She should be designing her own label. She shouldn’t be locked up at Tour de Force, made to follow her father’s whims.
He needed to convince her of that.
When she was finished shopping he took hold of the bags she’d collected. She’d bought something in each shop, not able to help herself. “Hungry yet?” he asked.
“Surprisingly I am,�
� she said. “Where do you want to go?”
“Lady’s choice,” Chris said. “This is your day.”
“There.” Imogen pointed without delay to the nearby movie-themed restaurant with shrimp and fried food.
She never stopped amazing him. He’d expected her to choose the Aquarium with its aquarium tanks or the Sushi restaurant.
“This is fantastic,” Imogen said as they walked through the door and the waitress explained to them how the restaurant worked. Her smile got wider as she read the menu and pointed out the names and what they were. “I’m never going to be able to decide,” she pronounced.
“The shrimp’s good,” Chris said with a grin.
She scowled at him and then said, “Have you been here before?”
He nodded. He’d been there several times over the years but never before had he enjoyed it so much as now, experiencing it with her.
She hesitated. “We can go somewhere else if you want.” She closed the menu.
“No way. I’m having way too much fun.” He kept it light but it annoyed him that she’d put him before her own enjoyment. She was too selfless.
She watched him for a moment and then said, “All right.”
In the end Imogen ordered a ridiculously large cocktail and a smallish entree. “I need room for dessert later,” she explained.
Chris waited until the drinks were served before he broached the subject he’d wanted to talk to Imogen about. “How are things going with your label?”
Some of the happiness left her eyes and Chris cursed himself for bringing it up, but she’d wanted to do it so badly, and he didn’t want others, namely her father, to stop her.
“I’ve put it on hold for now,” she said.
“Imi, you’d be great at this. Your business plan was good – it just needed a bit more work.”
Imogen took a sip of her drink. “Christian, there’s too much happening in my life right now. I’ve bought a house which needs renovating and there’s potential I have family I don’t know. Papa’s upset enough about those two things. I don’t have the energy for anything else at the moment.”
She had a point but he didn’t want her to give in. “You could still work on your business plan. You don’t have to actually set up the business straight away.” From what he’d read, there was a lot to it. “You could even talk to Simon.”
Imogen hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Imi, your designs are fantastic.” He didn’t know much about fashion but if his friends liked them and Simon thought she was good enough then he was sure they were right.
Her smile was small. “It’s not all about the design,” she said.
The food arrived and Imogen changed the subject. “So what’s new at your work?”
Chris was tempted to continue the conversation but he didn’t want to upset her further. “Same old, same old.”
“Could you do more pro bono work?” Imogen asked. “It sounds as if you enjoy it and I’m sure people like Elle appreciate it.”
“Not all my clients are like Elle.”
“You’re still lucky,” she said. “As much as I love designing clothes, I don’t think it has any impact on anyone.”
“You helped Elle immensely yesterday,” Chris said.
She smiled. “That was easy. She needed a boost and it was just a few dollars.”
Chris suspected it was more than a few dollars. He’d seen the name of the high-end salon Imogen had sent Elle to. “You could call up a charity and volunteer your time. I’m sure they’ll accept any hours you offer. I can give you a name or two.”
“I might do that,” Imogen said.
He hoped she did. He could see how much joy she’d received helping Elle.
The waitress came and cleared the plates and Imogen ordered the chocolate-chip-cookie sundae. It came out in a cast-iron pan with a warm chocolate-chip-cookie base and ice cream, cream, toppings and nuts poured over it. She took one bite and her eyes rolled back. “So good.” She licked the cream off her top lip and Chris forgot what they’d been talking about.
All he could focus on was her lips.
Imogen caught him staring at her. “You want to taste it?”
The it he was thinking of was not the cookie. “Sure.”
She fed him a spoonful and she was right: it was good. But as she savored every mouthful, his attention was not on the food.
When she was finished he said, “You ready to go?”
She seemed surprised by his rush.
“We can go back to my place,” he said, and she realized what he meant.
She grinned. “Shall we?”
He hoped so.
***
It was after dark when Christian dropped Imogen off at the chateau. There was no sense in staying at his place because she didn’t have a car to get her home in the morning.
He didn’t come in. “If I come in, I’ll stay and I need to be at work early for a brief,” he said after he’d kissed her until she was breathless.
She wanted him to stay but he was right. It wasn’t fair of her to ask him to fight the morning traffic to get to his apartment and then to the office.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kissed her again and then got into his car and drove off.
Imogen walked up the steps and into her house.
Apart from the surprise start, it had been a perfect day. She put on the kettle and while waiting for it to boil she had a shower. She slipped into some flannelette pajama bottoms and a singlet. Then she headed for the kitchen to make her coffee.
As she sat down with her mug there was a knock on the kitchen door. She knew who it would be. It was very late for him to be coming around.
“Come in, Papa.”
“I am glad you are alone.”
He meant he was glad Christian wasn’t there but part of Imogen couldn’t help asking whether he didn’t want her to have anyone ever.
“Papa, who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business.” She really didn’t want to go into this, not after the wonderful day she’d had, but it needed to be said.
“While you live under my roof, you need to respect my wishes.”
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps in some small way she was being disrespectful. She debated for a minute whether she should tell him. Now was as good a time as any.
“Then it’s just as well I’ve bought a house.”
“What? When?” Her father took a step back.
“Yesterday. It is time I got my own place and I found a wonderful 1920s house.”
“You did not think to ask my opinion?”
No, she hadn’t. And she was pretty sure if she had, he wouldn’t have seen past all the work that needed to be done. “I fell in love with it,” she said honestly.
“Then you have probably wasted your money. You must show it to me tomorrow so I can check it.”
“No, Papa. It’s too late. I’ve signed the paperwork. But I did have a builder look it over for me to make sure it was structurally sound.”
“Who is this builder?”
“He’s George’s father. I met him at Adrian and Libby’s wedding.”
Her father frowned and then said, “George was the groomsman?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know he is trustworthy?”
Imogen sighed. “Papa, he owns one of the biggest private building companies in Houston. He knows his stuff.”
“I still wish to view it.”
“It needs a lot of work. I don’t want you to see it until I’ve had a chance to do it up.”
“And so when it is ready, you will leave me?”
Imogen was hoping he wouldn’t ask about that. “It will still be a few months before it will be ready,” she said and then took a deep breath. “And then I will move out of your guesthouse.”
“But this is your house, your home.”
“That’s not what you said this morning.” The words snapped out before she could stop them. She didn’t deserve these manipulati
ons.
He glanced away. “I was shocked this morning.”
She was certain he had been, but that didn’t excuse it. “Then I suggest you don’t enter the guesthouse without permission in future.”
Her father looked down at the ground but she refused to feel sorry for him. “Chateau Fontaine will always be home, Papa.” She took his hand, ready to lead him to the door. “But I’m twenty-nine years old. It’s time I became independent.”
“You are already very independent. You come and go as you please.”
And you track every visitor I have.
“Papa, this is important to me. Please be happy for me.” It was a simple request. She didn’t cajole, she wouldn’t stoop to his level.
He scowled at her but there was no heat in it. “I could never say no to you.”
There was no point refuting his statement.
“But,” he added, “I insist you show me your house tomorrow.”
Imogen squeezed his hand. “I’ll show you my house when I get the keys for it. That way you can see inside as well as outside.”
“You win!” He threw his hands up in the air. “Now it is late and I must get to sleep. Good night, ma bichette.”
“Good night, Papa.”
She waited until he was out of sight before she let out a breath and slumped over the table. She felt as queasy as she had on the rollercoaster, without all the fun. It was exhausting talking to her father, but at least she’d won the first battle. She would worry about the next one when it came.
Right now she agreed with her father. It was late and she wanted sleep.
Chapter 13
The first thing Imogen did the next morning was ring her bank and arrange for a cashier’s check. Then she rang Hank and sorted out a time he could meet her at her house to review what she wanted to do. Nancy had told her she was available at any time so Imogen arranged the meeting on Thursday afternoon and cleared a place in her diary.
With that done, she collected her notes and went to the morning meeting.
She was the first one there so she turned on the computer and got the room set up. Her father, Jacques, Abigail and Derek filed in about five minutes later.
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