Jessica Hart - Honeymoon with the Boss

It had taken Tom a long time to find just the right wife. Julia wouldn’t normally expect him to be all lovey-dovey. They had come to a very clear agreement about what they both wanted from marriage, so if it didn’t work with her, it was never going to work with anyone.

No, Julia was perfect. He didn’t want to lose her now.

He would just have to be more patient, Tom decided. He would try harder to show an interest in the wedding if that was what Julia wanted.

He could feel Imogen’s stern eye on him and remembered her question. It will be worth it, won’t it?

‘Of course it will,’ he said.

IMOGEN waved at the girls on Reception and pressed the button to call the lift. This was Tom’s last day in the office before the wedding, and the staff had planned a surprise champagne reception later that afternoon to wish him well.

She hoped Tom would appreciate the gesture and manage a smile for them. Most of the staff were terrified of his brusque manner, but they respected him, too. He was tough, but fair, and no one was in any doubt that he had transformed Collocom in the six months he had been there. Their boss’s wedding was an excuse to celebrate a much more secure future for them all.

It had been a busy few weeks. Imogen had spent most of them chasing up string quartets and florists and photographers. She was an expert now on everything from the design of the place settings to special licence arrangements, and she was on first-name terms with the staff at Stavely Castle after ringing on a daily basis to change or check endless details. Perhaps when she got back from her travels she could set up as a wedding planner?

There had been no word from Julia for a couple of days now, which was odd. Tom’s fiancée had been backwards and forwards between New York and London for the past few weeks, but ten days ago she had arrived, she said, to stay. Imogen had arranged for her to lease a fabulous flat in Chelsea Harbour so that she could prepare for the wedding, but she had still been on the phone several times a day. Imogen just hoped that-finally!-everything was ready and Julia could stop fretting.

Tom’s fiancée was very lovely, as slender as predicted, and beautifully dressed. There was a glossiness and a sheen to her that made Imogen feel gauche and faintly shabby in comparison. They were probably much the same age, but Julia was so much more sophisticated she seemed to come from a different world, one where first-class travel and designer clothes were the norm, and a million miles from Imogen’s life sharing a chaotic flat in south London.

In spite of the differences between them, Julia was determined to treat Imogen as her new best friend when they’d finally met in the office one day. She was warm and friendly, embarrassingly so at times, but Imogen sensed a tension to her and a frenetic undercurrent to her obsession with wedding arrangements, as if she were wound up like a tightly coiled spring. Imogen hoped she would be able to relax enough to enjoy the wedding.

Julia had brought Imogen a beautiful scarf to thank her for all her work. ‘I do hope you’ll come to the wedding, Imogen,’ she said, kissing her on both cheeks when she first met her. ‘It would mean the world to Tom and me if you were there. Wouldn’t it, Tom?’

It had clearly never crossed Tom’s mind to care one way or another, but he nodded. ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘I know how hard Imogen has worked to make sure it all happens.’

There was a very faint edge to his voice. Imogen knew just how often he had been exasperated to find her tied up with wedding arrangements when he needed her to do something else, but she had to admit that he’d been making much more of an effort lately. She wondered if Julia realised quite how hard he was trying.

Julia had confided to Imogen in one of her many phone calls that she had wondered at one time if Tom had been having second thoughts about getting married. ‘But he’s been so sweet lately that I can see I was silly to have worried,’ she said. ‘He rings twice a day, and sends me a red rose every morning just so I know he’s thinking about me.’

Julia sighed with satisfaction. As well she might, Imogen reflected. She had arranged the delivery of the single roses herself and knew exactly how much it cost. Her mind boggled at the idea of Tom being sweet. He must really love Julia if he was prepared to change to such an extent, she thought wistfully.

She tried hard to be happy for them. It wasn’t Julia’s fault if she was thin, beautiful, wealthy, glamorous and had a man like Tom Maddison at her feet.

It wasn’t her fault if Imogen couldn’t stick to a diet, devoured a whole packet of chocolate digestives at a sitting and was reduced to dates with men who explained exactly how a mobile phone worked or who actually thought she would be interested in a detailed account of the intergalactic battles in Star Wars.

‘Your trouble is that you’re too picky,’ Amanda was always telling her. ‘You’re looking for a prince, and he’s just not going to turn up. You’ve got to be prepared to compromise a bit.’

‘I don’t want to compromise.’ Imogen could be stubborn too. ‘I want what I had with Andrew.’

Amanda sighed. ‘You’ve got to get over him, Imo.’

‘I am over him.’ She thought she was, anyway. ‘I know he’s happy with Sara. I know he’s not going to come back. But when you’ve had the perfect relationship, it’s hard to settle for anything less.’

‘If it had been the perfect relationship, Andrew wouldn’t have broken it off,’ Amanda invariably pointed out.

It was a good point. Imogen knew her friend was right, and she really was trying to meet someone new. It was just that the men she met seemed lacking in even the hint of a spark.

Still, perhaps she should give them more of a chance, Imogen had decided only the week before. Look at how Tom had changed and was trying hard to please Julia. He must be in love with her if he was prepared to make that kind of effort.

Sick of yearning after the unattainable, as Amanda put it, Imogen had vowed to try harder. There was no reason why she shouldn’t find someone she could have a real relationship with, perhaps even someone who might like to come travelling with her, but it hadn’t been going well. Last night she had let Amanda’s boyfriend set her up on yet another blind date, this time with an engineer who had spent most of his time telling her about his multiple allergies.

No wonder she was feeling depressed this morning.

It was nothing to do with the fact that Tom Maddison was getting married in a couple of days.

The lights were on in both offices when she went in. That meant Tom was here already. He had probably been here since at least seven, in fact, the way he usually was. He wasn’t the kind of man who would take it easy just because he was getting married.

Imogen tested a smile in the mirror as she hung up her coat. It didn’t look very convincing. She tried again, adding a little sparkle to her eyes. Better. She could almost pass for a girl who was genuinely pleased for her boss.

She wanted to be. Tom might be grouchy at times, but she admired his self-discipline and integrity. He wasn’t the friendliest of bosses, but you always knew where you were with him.

And he never mentioned an allergy or gave the slightest indication he had even seen Star Wars. He deserved a beautiful wife like Julia.

‘Good morning,’ she said brightly, as she knocked and went into his office. ‘Your last day before the wedding! Where would you like me to start?’

Tom looked up from the papers on his desk, and Imogen’s heart plummeted as she saw that his face looked as if it were carved out of stone.

‘You can start by cancelling the wedding,’ he said.

There was a catastrophic silence.

‘Cancel it?’ said Imogen, aghast, hoping against hope that she had misheard.

Tom nodded curtly. ‘Pull the plug on everything.’

‘But…what on earth has happened? Where’s Julia?’

‘On her way back to New York.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Probably taking off right now.’

‘She’ll come back,’ said Imogen, thinking that Julia would have to turn round as soon as she landed to get back in time for the wedding. ‘It must just be last-minute nerves.’

‘She doesn’t want to get married,’ said Tom flatly. ‘No, that’s not quite right,’ he corrected himself. ‘She does want to get married, just not to me.’

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

Imogen had been standing as if rooted to the spot, but at that she turned to close the door and, without waiting to be invited, sat down across the desk.

‘Are you sure there hasn’t been some kind of mistake?’ she asked carefully. ‘Is it possible you’ve misunderstood what the problem is?’

Tom gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. ‘Oh, no, she was crystal clear. I misunderstood the whole situation, it turns out, but not what she wants to do now.’

He couldn’t bear to be pitied. Swinging his chair round so that he wouldn’t have to look at the sympathy in Imogen’s face, he stared out of the window at the bleak February morning. It suited his mood exactly.

‘All of Julia’s family and friends are over for the wedding, and she’d arranged to spend the evening with them, so I wasn’t expecting to see her. But she turned up at my door at ten o’clock and said that we had to talk,’ he told Imogen. ‘It wasn’t the easiest of scenes. She said that she was sorry, but she couldn’t marry me because she was going to marry Patrick.’

‘Patrick?’ Imogen felt completely lost. This was all so unexpected it was difficult to grasp what he was telling her. ‘Who’s Patrick?’