In fact, it wasn’t until after work that Thursday that Imogen had time to get to the exclusive apartment Julia had rented in Chelsea.

It had been a very long four days, and Imogen was exhausted with the effort of keeping a smile on her face and parrying the not-so-subtle questions of her colleagues, who were desperate to know more about the time she had spent with Tom. Which was hard when she was just as desperate not to think about it.

She and Tom had both been careful to avoid any reference to Coconut Island. Inevitably, the atmosphere in the office was strained, but Imogen didn’t think they had been doing too badly until one of their senior shareholders had come to see Tom earlier that afternoon. When the meeting was over, Tom had walked him out to Imogen’s office and helped him on with his coat while he’d continued to complain about protection orders.

‘The world’s run mad.’ He snorted. ‘Next thing we know, flies and slugs will have protection orders! Last year we had bats roosting in the roof and we weren’t allowed to get rid of them! Absolutely ridiculous,’ he grumbled. ‘Bats, I ask you! Horrible little things. Have you ever seen them?’

Over his shoulder, Tom’s eyes met Imogen’s. ‘Yes, I have’ was all he said, but it was as if they were both transported back to the veranda on Coconut Island, to the hot tropical dusk and the bats darting and diving in the air. Imogen could practically feel the chair beneath her thighs, almost smell the frangipani drifting through the darkness, and hear the insects whirring and chirruping.

She knew Tom was remembering too. She could see it in the silver-grey eyes as their gazes locked and there was just the two of them, held in thrall by the memory of those long, sweet evenings.

‘Well, I’d better get on,’ the shareholder was saying, digging in his pockets for his gloves. ‘Good to see you again, Tom. Oh, and by the way, I meant to say that I was very sorry to hear about that business in February,’ he added gruffly.

‘Business?’ Tom sounded distracted.

‘Your wedding…most unfortunate.’ He was obviously embarrassed at having to be specific.

‘Oh, that…yes…thank you.’

Imogen was thinking about that exchange as she put the key in the lock and let herself into Julia’s apartment.

Tom hadn’t said anything when he’d come back from escorting the shareholder to the lift but something had changed with that meeting of their eyes, Imogen was convinced, and she hugged the possibility to her. Perhaps she didn’t need to despair, after all.

Wandering from room to room in Julia’s gorgeous flat, Imogen let herself dream. Maybe she would go into the office tomorrow and be talking about work when Tom would throw the file they were discussing onto the desk and say he couldn’t bear it without her any more. He would sweep her into his arms and tell her she was the one he really wanted. He’d beg her to marry him and stay with him for ever.

Even if he didn’t tell her that he loved her, it would be enough, Imogen decided. A man like Tom couldn’t suddenly pull all his emotions out of a hat, but there had been a chemistry between them, and today it had seemed as if it was still there. They could build on that. She could teach him how to love. She didn’t care as long as they could be together.

They could live somewhere like this. Imogen loved this apartment. It had lots of space and light, with a wonderful view of the Thames. She couldn’t help comparing it with the flat she shared with Amanda. There was nothing wrong with that, but it was very small and a bit shabby. They had fun there, of course, but this was the kind of place you lived in when you were grown up, when you had made a success of your career and were going to marry a man like Tom.

Dreamily, Imogen opened the wardrobe in the bedroom. Julia hadn’t spent much time in London, but it was still full of beautiful clothes. Imogen whistled soundlessly as she checked the labels. Amanda would be wild with envy. This lot ought to raise a lot of money for some lucky charity shop.

Fantasising all the while about living there with Tom, Imogen folded the outfits carefully and put them on the bed, ready to be packed into boxes for collection. She would have to deal with Julia’s wedding dress separately. It was hanging in a gorgeous cover behind the door and was much too big to fit in any of the boxes.

Imogen couldn’t resist having a look at it. Drawing down the zip, she let out an involuntary sigh of longing. It was exquisite. Very gently she touched the shimmering ivory fabric, marvelling at the detail in the delicately beaded design. Julia had sent her a sketch of the design, but she hadn’t realised how beautiful it would be when it was made up. This was the wedding dress every girl dreamed of, a dress that would make you look like a princess-gorgeous and utterly romantic.

Lifting it down, she drew off the cover and held the dress up against her, imagining wearing it at her own wedding.

She was walking down the aisle on her father’s arm in the village church. He was bursting with pride, her mother was sniffing into a handkerchief, her brothers were rolling their eyes but happy for her anyway. Amanda was there too, ready to step up and take her bouquet when the moment came.

Imogen could practically feel the stone floor beneath her feet and smell that mixture of musty kneeling cushions, old hymn books and wooden pews worn smooth by generations.

In her mind, she looked towards the altar and there was Tom, looking devastating in an austere morning suit. For a moment, she wondered if it could possibly be true, but then the stern features softened as he turned to watch her coming up the aisle, and he smiled at her, the silvery-grey eyes alight with love…

Reluctantly, Imogen wrenched herself from the dream and stroked the beautiful dress longingly. What would it be like to wear a dress like this?

Find out.

The thought slid insidiously into her head and lodged there. Why not try it on, after all? It wasn’t her dress…but Julia didn’t want it. What harm could it do, just to see what she would look like as a bride?

Imogen dithered, then made up her mind. Quickly, she pulled off her clothes and examined the dress in her bra and knickers. Unzipping it carefully, she stepped into the skirt and pulled up the bodice in front of the mirror. The heavy silk felt gorgeous against her skin.

Smiling at her reflection, Imogen reached for the side zip-and the dream promptly shattered under the crashing fist of reality.

There was no way this zip was ever going to do up with her inside it.

Imogen watched her smile wiped out by a wash of humiliation, and a blotchy tide of embarrassed colour surged up her throat. There might as well have been a crowd of spectators, pointing and jeering.

What had she been thinking? She knew how slender and elegant Julia was. She had to be a good three sizes bigger than Tom’s erstwhile fiancée. Of course she wasn’t going to fit into Julia’s dress.

Of course she wasn’t going to fit into Julia’s life.

Because that was what she really wanted, Imogen realised dully. She wanted to be slim and sophisticated and beautiful and clever and the kind of woman Tom really wanted to share his life. But she wasn’t any of those things. She had to face reality, and the reality was that Tom Maddison was out of her league. He was never going to love her. If he couldn’t love Julia, he couldn’t love anyone, and she would be fooling herself if she let herself believe otherwise.

And Imogen needed to be loved. That had been the dream, she understood now. It wasn’t the wedding, or the dress. It was that moment of looking at Tom and believing that he loved her.

Well, it wasn’t going to happen, and she had to accept that. No matter what she told herself about chemistry, it wouldn’t be enough.

A fantasy, Tom had called it. Well, maybe it was, but Imogen knew that nothing else would do. I’m not prepared to settle for anything less than love, she had told him, and she was right. She had thought that she could compromise, but she couldn’t.

Miserably, she stepped out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, before carrying it over to lay it on the pile destined for the charity shop. Someone was going to get a fabulous bargain.

But it wasn’t going to be her.

‘That’s it for now.’ Imogen closed her notebook and got to her feet. ‘Except…’ she fished in a folder for a piece of paper and passed it across the desk to Tom ‘…I thought you would like to see the job description I’ve prepared.’

‘Job description?’

‘For your new PA.’

Tom felt as if she had reached across the desk and slapped him.

‘You’re leaving?’

‘I told you that I was planning to travel.’

‘I thought you said June?’ The words felt unwieldy in his mouth and he had to force himself to take the sheet of paper.

‘I’ve advanced my plans a bit,’ said Imogen. ‘I’ve got a great deal on a flight to Australia leaving in a month.’

A month? Tom felt sick. She obviously couldn’t wait to get away.

He stared at the job description, but the words danced in front of his eyes. He should have expected this, he knew. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t told him very clearly that she wanted to travel. Now he felt a fool for letting himself hope that she would want to stay after all.

It had been stupid of him to even think about trying to find a way back to how things had been on the island.

He had wanted to be careful, knowing that it would be a mistake to rush into anything. Even if Julia’s desire to rush into marriage hadn’t taught him a lesson, Tom needed to be sure about what he felt. Imogen wasn’t like any other girlfriend he had ever had. She didn’t fit into his life the way Julia had. She was disturbing, distracting. She had thrown him into turmoil and made him question everything he’d ever thought he wanted. Tom didn’t like the way it left him feeling churned up and out of control.