‘Of course,’ he said, as brusque as ever. ‘I’ve got plenty to do.’
‘You’re not really going to work, are you?’
‘What else is there to do?’ he said and even he could hear the bleakness in his voice.
Imogen came back a little while later with coffee and a couple of biscuits.
‘I never eat biscuits,’ said Tom, glancing up from his computer screen as she set them solicitously at his elbow.
‘You should have something to eat.’
‘I’m not an invalid, Imogen!’
‘You’ve had a shock,’ she said. ‘You need the sugar.’
‘I don’t need anything!’ The suggestion of neediness always caught Tom on the raw and he glared at Imogen. ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ he snapped. ‘There’s no need to treat me as if I’m about to faint or burst into tears.’
‘Eat them anyway,’ said Imogen, who thought it might be better if he did.
Tom Maddison was a difficult man to help. What was the point of pretending that you didn’t have feelings? He had retreated behind an even more ferocious mask than usual, bottling it all up inside, and was clearly going to lash out at anyone who dared to suggest that he might be hurt, or angry, or in need of comfort.
Well, she would just have to be lashed, Imogen decided. She had been spared Tom’s public humiliation, but she knew what it was like to realise that the person you loved didn’t love you back and never had. It hurt. It hurt a lot and, although no one could endure it for you, it helped to have someone by your side to see you through it.
Tom would never admit that he needed anyone, but he did.
Imogen wished she knew more about his private life. If only there was a friend she could call, someone who would come and be there for Tom, the way Amanda had been there for her. But it looked as if it was just her.
She transferred her notebook from under her arm and flicked it open. For now, she would stick with the practicalities.
‘I’ve spoken to the Castle, and cancelled all the arrangements there. I’m afraid that, at this stage, there’s no question of any refunds,’ she added apologetically.
‘God, what a waste of money!’ Tom threw himself back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of the cost. He hadn’t begrudged paying for Julia’s increasingly extravagant ideas, but what had been the point of it all? He had let Julia have whatever she wanted.
He hadn’t realised the only thing she really wanted was Patrick.
‘Then there’s the honeymoon…’
Imogen hesitated about raising the matter of the honeymoon, but that had been booked and paid for too, and Tom would have to make some decision. The cost of Coconut Island was phenomenal. It would make a dent in even Tom’s bank account, surely.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Tom, taking a biscuit without quite realising what he was doing. ‘You said it was somewhere you’d love to go,’ he reminded her.
Imogen squirmed. ‘I’m sorry it turned out to be so expensive.’
But really, how was she to know Julia would turn her back on the wedding of her dreams, the holiday of a lifetime and a man like Tom? Julia must really love Patrick to give up all that, she reflected. ‘I’ll see if it’s possible to get some money back, at least.’
If it had been her own holiday, she would have taken out insurance, but it had never occurred to her to think it would be an issue for Tom.
‘I’ll get on to the agents and see what the cancellation terms are,’ she said.
‘Don’t do that,’ said Tom, brushing biscuit crumbs from his fingers and making up his mind. ‘I don’t want you to cancel the trip.’
Imogen looked at him in concern. Surely he wasn’t planning to go anyway? It would be a disaster. Every time he turned round he would be reminded that Julia wasn’t there.
‘I’m not sure it’s a great idea for you to go on your own,’ she said cautiously.
‘I’m not planning to go on my own,’ he said. ‘You’re coming with me.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve wasted enough money on the wedding. I’ve spent a bloody fortune on that island, and I’m not going to waste that too. You said you’d like to go there. Well, now’s your chance.’
‘But…it’s booked as a honeymoon,’ stammered Imogen. ‘Everyone would assume that we were married.’
‘Who’s going to know, or care?’ Tom countered. ‘They’re only interested in my money. It’s not as if they’re going to ask to see the marriage certificate when we check in.’
‘Well, no, but…’ Imogen looked at him despairingly. Couldn’t he see how awkward it would be? ‘I booked it as a honeymoon, so they might make a fuss when we arrive.’
‘Let them,’ said Tom. ‘Surely the whole point of the exercise was that we would have complete privacy? This isn’t some B&B where we’d have no choice but to share a bed. At least, it had better not be for the price I’m paying for it!’ he added caustically. ‘OK, we may have to bluff it on arrival, but after that we should have a whole island to ourselves and no one will know that we’re not spending our whole time having sex.’
Imogen was mortified to feel her cheeks burning. Honestly, anyone would think she had never heard the word sex before! But somehow Tom talking about it made it all too easy to imagine Tom doing it.
She forced the image aside, not without some difficulty.
‘You make it all sound so reasonable,’ she protested.
‘Because it is reasonable. It’s a practical solution to the problem, and would be a good thing for both of us. What’s not reasonable about that?’
Imogen fiddled with her pen and tried to imagine what it would be like to go on holiday with her boss. ‘It would still be a bit…intimate,’ she said at last.
‘I don’t see why—’ Tom stopped as it occurred to him, somewhat belatedly, that Imogen might have a personal life of her own. He knew that she wasn’t married, but there might be a man on the scene, and that might complicate matters.
He frowned. ‘Are you worried about what a boyfriend might think?’
‘It’s not that,’ said Imogen. ‘There isn’t anyone else at the moment.’
‘Even better then,’ said Tom, relieved. ‘That means no one has any excuse to feel jealous or upset.’
‘Maybe not, but there’ll be plenty of people who’ll speculate about why we’re going on holiday together.’
Tom scowled. ‘Who on earth is going to care?’
‘The entire staff of Collocom for a start, I should think.’
‘What business is it of theirs what we do?’
‘None, of course, but that’s not going to stop them wondering. I’d wonder what was going on if my boss and his secretary disappeared to a tropical island for three weeks!’
‘Tell them it’s a business trip,’ Tom said indifferently.
‘Oh, yes, like they’ll believe that!’
‘Frankly, I’m not concerned with what they do and don’t believe,’ he said with a dismissive gesture. ‘The fact is that it will be a business trip. We’ll have a whole island between us. We can take our