Breaking the Boss’s Rules

Imogen expelled a sigh of relief as she heard Joe’s drawl, and then she looked up and saw the glint of anger in his eyes. She spotted the set jaw and something thrilled inside her.

Get some perspective, Imo.

For a start she was quite capable of looking after herself, and had had a perfectly good self-defence plan. Plus, Ivan was planning a Langley buy-out—that was what she needed to be thinking about. Instead of going all gooey because Joe was being protective.

The interior designer spun round and held his hand out. ‘Joe. My friend. How are you doing? Imogen and I were just—’

‘I can see exactly what you were just doing, Ivan, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do it again.’

Ivan’s grey eyes flicked from Imogen to Joe. ‘You calling dibs, my friend?’

Imogen gave a small gasp. Please let it have sounded like outrage, not hope.

‘No.’ Joe stepped forward, his lips curling in a smile that held no mirth whatsoever. ‘But if you want to talk about Langley deal with me. Not anyone else.’

The interior designer gave a toss of his dyed blond hair and stepped backwards. ‘I’ll do that. I’ll get my PA to call your PA and set something up. I’m very interested in a buy-out.’

With that he turned and walked away.

‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ Imogen waved away his look of concern. ‘Ivan Moreton is a sleazebag, and if you hadn’t turned up he’d have been on his way to A&E with a stiletto through his foot.’

This time Joe’s smile was real, and Imogen’s stomach rollercoastered, all focus leaving the building.

‘It’s time for the presentations,’ Joe said.

So not the moment to discuss the impossibility of an IMID buy-out; plus, it would best to do that out of Ivan’s range.

‘I’ll text Richard.’

‘Why? What happened to the romantic Parisian getaway?’

‘Nothing. He wants to show his support so I’ve arranged for him to be video conferenced in.’

‘Great idea? Yours?’

There was that warmth again at his words … She needed to stop being so damn needy of people’s approval. Just because praise had been a rarity in her childhood it didn’t mean she had to overreact to it.

‘Thanks,’ she said, as coolly as she could, and quickly bent over her phone to hide the flush of pleasure that touched her cheeks.

A minute later her phone vibrated and she glanced down at it and blinked. Read the words again and gave a small whoop under her breath.

‘Good news?’

‘Yup. Look. That’s Richard. He and Crystal have bought a place in Paris and they want us to pitch for the job of doing it up.’ She continued reading. ‘He wants us—you and me—to meet him in Paris on Friday.’

Joe and Imogen off to Paris. Be still her beating heart.

Polite applause broke out around them as the first speaker mounted the podium.

‘That’s excellent news. You’d better book some tickets on the Eurostar, then.’

Was that all he had to say? Was she the only one all of a flutter here? Of course she was. After all she was the one with the dream problem.

Turning away from him, Imogen stared resolutely at the speaker and tried to focus on his words. For the rest of the evening she would focus on interior design. Not on the man sitting beside her.

‘Paris?’ A pyjama-clad Mel stared at her in sheer disbelief. ‘You are going to Paris with Joe McIntyre?’

‘Yes.’ Imogen snuggled back on the sofa and cradled her mug of hot chocolate. ‘Ironic, really. I practically begged Steve to take me there, but he wouldn’t. Said it held too many memories of Simone.’

She took a gulp of hot chocolate and pushed away memories of just how much time she had spent choosing a cruise that didn’t contain any locations holding any memories of Simone. There was real irony for you. Because right this minute now Steve and Simone were on that luxury cruise, paid for with her hard-earned money, creating new memories.

‘I’d rather go with someone hot like Joe than Steve,’ Mel said musingly.

‘That’s plain shallow,’ Imogen said. ‘Heat level isn’t everything in a man, you know. There are other attributes that are way more important.’

The sort of traits she looked for in a partner: kindness, stability, loyalty, security. More irony—how had she misjudged Steve so badly?

Mel shook her head, blonde curls bobbing. ‘Not if you’re on a jaunt to Paris.’

‘It’s not a jaunt. It’s a business trip. We’re not even staying overnight. Joe is out of the office tomorrow, I’m meeting him at St Pancras Station on Friday late morning, then we’re coming back straight after our meeting.’

‘Tchah! Why don’t you book the wrong tickets by “mistake”? Then you could end up staying in a romantic hotel and …’

‘I’d end up fired.’

Though for one stupid, insane moment her imagination had leapt in … She could see the hotel silhouetted on the Parisian horizon …

Imogen drained her mug. ‘I’m for bed.’

‘Oh!’ Mel gave a gasp. ‘I was so gobsmacked by Paris I forgot to tell you. Your mum called—she said it was urgent. Not that sort of urgent,’ she added hastily, seeing panic grip her friend as she imagined the worst. ‘But she did say you needed to ring her back, no matter what time it was.’

Imogen sighed. This wasn’t what she needed right now, but Eva Lorrimer hated being made to wait.

Grabbing her mobile phone from the floor, she dialled her mother. ‘Hey, Mum. It’s me.’

‘Finally.’

‘Sorry. The awards ceremony finished late.’

‘I only hope you going means you’ll keep your job, Imogen. You make sure you impress Joe McIntyre. Somehow. Good PAs are two a penny, and now you’ve managed to lose Steve you will need to support yourself and—’

‘Mum. Mel said it was urgent?’ Surely reciting all Imogen’s shortcomings couldn’t be classed as imperative at past midnight. Even by Eva’s standards.

‘It is urgent. Steve has proposed to Simone on that cruise he’s taken her on. They’re getting married.’

Breath whooshed out of her lungs; surely this was some sort of joke. ‘How do you know?’