There was another deafening silence. Nobody moved. They were clearly all waiting to see if he was planning on humiliating himself some more.

Imogen opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable to speak.

‘Anyway,’ said Tom too heartily, ‘I believe we have a present for you.’ He picked it up from the table and stood holding it, not sure what to do with it next.

He felt as if he had jumped off the edge of a cliff and was still bracing himself for a crash landing. It was a little late to realise that he had absolutely no idea of how he was going to get himself out of here.

But Imogen was moving at last. She stepped onto the dais while the entire room held its breath.

‘I don’t want a present,’ she said very clearly, finding her voice at last. ‘You’ve just given me everything I could ever want or ever need.’

Half the women in the room sighed.

Was that a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth? Hope began to beat wildly against Tom’s ribs as he looked into Imogen’s blue, blue eyes.

The Director of HR cleared his throat. ‘I think perhaps Mr Maddison would like to say goodbye to Imogen alone,’ he said firmly. ‘The rest of us can continue the party in the pub.’

Reluctantly, people began to leave, looking over their shoulders at the scene at the front of the room, where Tom and Imogen stood facing each other, apparently oblivious to the room emptying.

Even when the door had closed behind the last of them and cut off the buzz of speculation outside, neither of them moved immediately.

‘Sorry,’ said Tom. ‘Was that very embarrassing?’

‘Very,’ said Imogen unsteadily. ‘And very beautiful.’

Stepping closer, she took the present from his nerveless hands and put it carefully on the table.

‘Did you mean to say all that tonight?’ she asked him.

He shook his head. ‘I had another speech entirely prepared but, when it came to it, I realised I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say goodbye to you like that. I can’t say goodbye to you at all.’

‘Then don’t.’ Imogen closed the distance between them at last. Putting her arms round his neck, she pressed her face into his throat. ‘Don’t say goodbye, Tom. I can’t bear it if you do.’

Instinctively, Tom’s arms closed around her and he drew her hard against him, breathing in the scent of her, savouring the warmth and softness of her, his head reeling with the relief of holding her again.

‘Imogen…does that mean you’ll stay?’

‘I will if you want me.’

‘Want you?’ Tom laughed raggedly. ‘Imogen, you have no idea how much I do! I’m so in love with you, I don’t know what to do with myself. You’ve turned my life upside down, and now you’re the only one who can put it all right again.’

‘But I’m so ordinary,’ Imogen protested, pulling back slightly to look up into his face.

‘You’re not ordinary,’ he said. ‘You’re beautiful and warm and loving and true. Are you thinking about Julia?’

‘Of course. You’ve got to admit we’re very different, and she was so much more suitable for you.’

‘Suitable, maybe,’ said Tom, ‘but she wasn’t you, and she didn’t make me feel alive the way you do. She didn’t make me the kind of man who takes crazy risks like the one tonight, and when I was with her I didn’t feel as if I was in the only place I wanted to be, the way I feel when I’m with you.’

He pulled her back against him, sliding his hands under her hair to hold her head still. ‘If it comes to that, do you think I don’t know that I’m not suitable for you? I just wish I could be the man you really want.’

‘But you are.’ Imogen put her fingers over his mouth. ‘Tom, you are,’ she told him.

‘You said you weren’t prepared to settle for anyone less than perfect,’ he reminded her. ‘I’m not perfect.’

‘No, you’re not. You’re really quite difficult at times,’ she said, softening her words with a smile, ‘but I love you anyway. And I’m not perfect either, but when we were together…the way you make me feel…that’s perfect.’

A smile started in the silver-grey eyes and spread slowly over his face. ‘Do I make you feel like a dolphin?’ he asked, half joking, half hopeful.

Imogen remembered the dolphins soaring out of the sparkling sea into the sunlight and smiled back at him. ‘That’s exactly how I feel when I’m with you!’

Tom kissed her then, a long, deep, hungry kiss that left her breathless and blissful, and when he broke for air she wound her arms around him and kissed him back, while joy spilt through her in a glorious, giddy rush.

Imogen never knew how long they kissed there, or at what point they moved, but when she came up for air, Tom was leaning back against the desk and she was wedged between his legs. Heaving a sigh of happiness, she rested her head on his shoulder and felt his hands smoothing possessively up and down her spine.

‘Why were you going to leave if you loved me?’ he asked.

‘Because I was afraid that if I stayed I would end up compromising. You’d been so certain that you would never fall in love, and I could see myself spending years just hoping and hoping that the impossible would happen.’

‘The way you did with Andrew?’

She nodded against his shoulder. ‘I told myself I had to face reality, and I didn’t think I could do that, seeing you every day. I thought it would be easier to go to Australia, where there were no memories, and then you stood up there in front of all those people and told me that you loved me and I thought my heart was going to burst. I still can’t believe this isn’t a dream,’ she confessed.

‘If it is, we’re both in it,’ said Tom, kissing her softly. ‘Now we’ve both got to face the reality of loving each other.’

Imogen nestled closer. ‘That’s one reality I don’t mind facing!’

‘Then we’ll face it together.’ He rested his check against her hair. ‘Do you remember that ceremony on the sandbar?’

As if she could forget! ‘That’s when I first knew I loved you,’ Imogen said, loving the feeling of being held tight against his hard, solid body. Of feeling safe. Of feeling cherished. ‘I meant every word I said that day and I’m like you, I keep my promises.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Tom. ‘So shall we make it legal and get married properly?’

Imogen’s eyes were shining as she tipped back her head and smiled up at him. ‘Yes, let’s do that,’ she said, and the warmth in his expression as he smiled back made her heart turn over.

‘And where would you like to go on honeymoon?’ he asked.

Imogen laughed, remembering how he had asked her that once before on a wet January day. ‘We’ve already had a honeymoon!’

‘We’ll have another,’ said the workaholic. ‘I’ll arrange it all. It just so happens that I know the perfect place…’

The old man was waiting for them on the sandbar, just like before. The sky was flushed with a gold that was just beginning to burn red. Tom took Imogen’s hand and they walked across the sand towards him.

They had been married the week before in the little church in the village where Imogen had grown up. That had been a traditional wedding, and a very happy day, surrounded by family and friends, but the ceremony on the sandbar was just for the two of them.

It was six months since they had last been on Coconut Island, but the lagoon was as beautiful as ever. They spent their days just as they had done before, and in the evenings they sat on the veranda and watched the bats come out after sunset. It was all just the same-except this time Tom was her husband, not her boss, and Imogen hadn’t known it was possible to be this happy.

Imogen had loved her wedding, but deep down it felt as if it wasn’t until they had been through this ceremony again that she and Tom would really be married. She was wearing the wedding dress that had looked elegant and summery in the village church, but which she had chosen with the sandbar in mind. This time she was barefoot, and the chiffon layers stirred around her in the light ocean breeze as she laced her fingers with Tom’s and stepped into the circle with him.

This time there was no hesitation, no awkwardness.

This time it was real.

If the old man thought it was odd that they were apparently renewing their vows so soon, he gave no sign of it. He went through the ceremony with quiet dignity and this time every word resonated along Imogen’s veins.

‘Love each other, be true to each other, find peace in each other,’ he finished at last. ‘Find joy in each other always.’

Tom and Imogen smiled as they drew together for a kiss. ‘We will,’ they said.

Jessica Hart


Jessica Hart was born in West Africa, and has suffered from itchy feet ever since, traveling and working around the world in a wide variety of interesting but very lowly jobs. All of them have provided inspiration on which to draw when it comes to the settings and plots of her stories. Now she lives a rather more settled existence in York, U.K., where she has been able to pursue her interest in history, although she still yearns sometimes for wider horizons. If you’d like to know more about Jessica, visit her Web site at www.jessicahart.co.uk.