Scandal In The Spotlight: The Couple Behind the Headlines / Redemption of a Hollywood Starlet / The Price of Fame

Once he’d covered her mouth she’d tried to concentrate on all those questions, all those very valid points of his, but his voice had been so soft and so low that she’d felt hypnotised and she rather thought she couldn’t have said a word even if his hand hadn’t been in the way.

In fact, the only things that had stopped her tearing his fingers away and launching herself at him right there and then had been the presence of the taxi driver and her distaste of exhibitionism.

Imogen sighed again and gave up, because there was little point in denying it. She wanted him and had done from the moment they’d met. He’d certainly been right about that.

Not that it mattered one way or the other any more, she thought, scowling up at the ceiling. There she’d been, going all soft and swoony, coming to the realisation that struggling to control the desire racing through her body was like trying to paddle against the current, and wondering if giving in would really be so bad, and he’d been planning his escape.

Which with hindsight was completely understandable. Her behaviour, rattled by the effect he had on her and the events of the afternoon, had been unbelievably deranged and if she’d been in his position she’d have done exactly the same.

Imogen screwed her eyes tight shut and pulled the duvet over her head as if that might somehow obliterate the memories and the images because all in all the whole evening had been mortifying and she’d give anything to be able to forget every ghastly second.

The only reason she wasn’t going to give in to the temptation to barricade herself in her bedroom for the next ten years was the knowledge that she had no need to lay eyes on him ever again.

Something was wrong, thought Jack the next day, running a finger around the inside of his collar, and shifting on his chair as he tried to concentrate on the menu.

Very wrong.

Maybe he was coming down with something. A cold. The flu. Pneumonia perhaps. Whatever. Something had to account for the achiness and the restlessness that had invaded his body some time during the night.

Usually he had no problem sleeping. Usually he crashed out the minute his head hit the pillow and fell into a deep dreamless sleep. But last night he’d slept terribly. He’d tossed and turned, then prowled and paced around his bedroom until he’d finally given up and gone to the office.

However, given that he’d been in since six, he’d achieved remarkably little. All morning he’d been feeling on edge. He’d growled at his secretary, when he never normally growled, barked unfairly at one of his traders, and had made some stupidly rash investment decisions.

Eventually, unable to stand the four walls of his office and the tension any longer, and realising he could do some serious damage to his funds—and his team—if he stuck around when he was in this perplexing mood, he’d called Luke and dragged him out for lunch.

‘So what’s up?’

At the sound of Luke’s voice, Jack jerked himself out of his dark thoughts and glanced up to find his friend staring at him with avid curiosity.

‘Nothing’s up,’ he said. ‘What makes you think anything’s up?’

‘Well, the fact that you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying for the past five minutes is a bit of a clue.’

God, had it been that long? ‘Sorry,’ Jack muttered and frowned.

What was going on? He never felt like this. Never lost track of conversations. On the contrary, his ability to stay focused at all times was legendary. It was what had made him millions. And he never normally had such trouble ordering off a menu, either.

Hmm. Maybe he ought to grovel to his secretary and ask her very kindly to make an appointment with the doctor, because he couldn’t go on like this. He’d drive himself demented and his business into the ground. ‘I was miles away.’

‘Clearly,’ Luke said. ‘Visiting anywhere interesting?’

Feeling distinctly uneasy at the glint in Luke’s eyes, Jack pulled himself together. He had no intention of discussing his symptoms. He’d sound nuts. Besides, it was probably nothing. Everyone had a bad night once in a while, didn’t they? He was just suffering from lack of sleep and overwork. That was all. And he’d have the steak.

‘Nowhere at all,’ he said, snapping the menu shut and fixing the easy life’s-a-breeze smile that he’d mastered from an early age to his face. ‘So what were you saying?’

‘Just checking you’re still on for Saturday.’

Ah. At the thought of Saturday and Daisy, Jack’s smile turned genuine. In a moment of recklessness he’d offered to babysit his god-daughter while Luke and Emily went to a wedding in Cornwall.

What he thought he’d been doing he had no idea. He had zero experience of looking after three-year-old girls and had no desire to do so on any kind of a regular basis. But Luke’s parents were out of the country, and Emily’s sister was busy, and when, with a slightly desperate note to her voice, Emily had told him that she didn’t trust anyone else but him, he hadn’t been able to resist.

Personally, Jack thought her trust in him was highly misplaced, but, although he’d never admit it, he’d do pretty much anything for Luke and Emily, and sacrificing a Saturday night for his gorgeous god-daughter wasn’t exactly a hardship. ‘Of course I’m still on for Saturday.’

‘Because if you had other plans,’ said Luke conversationally, ‘I’m sure we could work something out.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘OK.’ Luke grinned and turned his attention to his own menu. ‘But if you change your mind all you have to do is let us know.’

‘Thanks, but I won’t.’

‘Just offering you a get-out clause if you need one.’

Jack fought the urge to grind his teeth. What the hell was this? He didn’t need a get-out clause. He might have his faults, but backing out of an arrangement—especially one that concerned the only two people in the world whose loyalty and friendship he could count on—wasn’t one of them.

And Luke knew that, which meant that this conversation had some sort of agenda.

‘If there’s a point you’re trying to make, Luke,’ said Jack, sitting back and bracing himself, ‘why don’t you come out and make it?’

‘Fine.’ Luke grinned and looked up. ‘I was just thinking that if you wanted to take a certain Imogen Christie out on Saturday night instead of babysitting Daisy, all you have to do is say. I’m sure we can make other arrangements.’

Jack went still, any semblance of relaxed ease evaporating. ‘What makes you think I’d want to take Imogen Christie out on Saturday night?’

‘Only that this morning Emily had a call from a friend of hers who spotted the two of you at an art exhibition last night. Chatting and then getting into a taxi and looking extremely cosy.’

Cosy? Cosy? Cosy was the last thing it had been. This friend had clearly missed the ‘victim devouring’ comment. ‘I see.’

‘Apparently she was after all the gory details.’

‘There aren’t any.’

Luke arched an eyebrow and grinned. ‘That I find hard to believe.’

Jack shrugged. As far as he was concerned, Luke could believe what he liked. ‘Why are you so interested?’

‘You’re my oldest and best friend. Why wouldn’t I be interested?’

Ah, thought Jack wryly. How could he have forgotten? Of course Luke would be interested. Ever since he’d married three years ago, he’d been dropping not very subtle hints that Jack should think about following his example and settle down himself.

Hah. As if. As much as Luke and Emily might wish otherwise, the last thing he wanted was what they had. They had each other, and Daisy, and another baby on the way. Which was great for Luke, but that kind of family set-up wasn’t for him. Never had been, never would be.

‘So Emily put you up to this?’ he said, stifling a shudder at the thought of settling down.

‘She asked me to get the low-down,’ said Luke, completely without shame.