‘Fair enough. But why not go for it all? Security, shared goals and great sex.’
Imogen blinked, as if the idea had never even occurred to her as a possibility, and then she shook her head and sipped her champagne. ‘Honestly? I think a dynamite attraction would fuzz my brain and my perspective. I don’t want physical desire to affect how I think and reason, or cause me to make stupid decisions. I’ve seen how that works out. My mother married my father because she fell in lust—and, believe me, their marriage is everything I don’t want mine to be.’
The vehemence in her voice twanged a chord of empathy in him. ‘Yet they’ve stayed together, haven’t they?’
Perhaps Imogen knew the answer as to why two unsuited people stayed together despite every reason in the world to separate. An image of his own parents came to his mind and he felt the familiar gnarling of emotions in his gut. Frustration, confusion, anger, bewilderment.
Max and Karen McIntyre—good-looking, rich and devoted to each other. Or so they had appeared to Joe. Because he’d seen what he’d wanted to see or what they’d wanted him to see? Little wonder that he’d been sent to boarding school—he could only imagine the strain the pretence must have cost his parents.
‘Yes,’ Imogen said. ‘They have. I think it’s because in some dreadful way they’ve become codependent. So used to the shouting and the arguments and the bitterness they can’t imagine leaving. They’ve made a mess of it and I don’t want that—I certainly don’t want that for my children. So I think I’ll stick to my tick-list and keep sexual attraction off it. It’s not a big deal.’
Given her earlier responsiveness, her sheer uninhibited enjoyment, that was hard to believe. And anyway … ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but clearly the tick-list didn’t work with Steve.’
‘Noooo. But the principle is still sound. All I need to do is amend the list to make sure I avoid men who are still hung up on a previous girlfriend.’ A small sigh escaped her lips. ‘You’d think that would have been obvious, wouldn’t you? Instead I was sure I could be the one who’d help him get over her—be there for him, build up a relationship. Hah!’
Joe frowned as he considered her words. ‘You’re telling me Steve left you for his ex?’
‘Yup. It’s even worse, in fact.’ Her hands clenched round a fold of red sheet.
‘What happened?’
Jutting out her chin, she gazed at him almost defiantly, her blue-grey eyes daring him to feel pity. ‘I gave Steve tickets for a cruise for his thirtieth birthday a few months ago. He took Simone instead of me and proposed to her on the cruise. They’re getting married in a couple of months.’
‘For real?’
‘I don’t think you could make that up.’
‘Well, I’d like to say I’m sorry. But I’m not. The man sounds like an absolute tosser and you’re way better off without him.’
Imogen’s lips curved up in a sudden smile. ‘So no sympathy?’
‘Nope.’ He topped up their glasses and raised his. ‘I think it’s more a cause for celebration. To a new start.’
The chime as crystal hit crystal was oddly significant, and as if feeling it Imogen wriggled backwards to lean against the graceful curve of the headboard.
Shaking away the emotion, Joe took her empty plate from her. ‘You done?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Because I have some excellent ideas for what to do with the strawberries and cream.’
She moistened her lips. ‘Care to share?’
‘Oh, yes. I have every intention of sharing. Now, come here. And drop the sheet.’
Batting her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated fashion, she pushed the sheet down in one fluid movement. ‘Your wish is my command,’ she murmured, and the hot rush of desire swept away all other thoughts.
Imogen opened her eyes and for a heartbeat confusion fuzzed her brain—until the twinge of hitherto unused muscles brought back a flood of glorious memories. Memories that culminated in finally falling asleep wrapped in Joe’s arms, her cheek nestled against the smattering of hair on his chest.
Rolling over, she realised her only bedmate now was the finger of light that filtered through the slats of the blinds to hit the rumpled, cold red sheet.
A sense of bereavement socked her, and Imogen gritted her teeth. No! The night was over and waking up naked in bed together was not the way forward for the professional day ahead. Joe at least had had the sense to realise it.
Yet how could she erase those memories that still buzzed through her veins and exhilarated her body. Surely she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t regret the bone-deep knowledge that she’d never plumb the depths of lust as deeply again? For the first time ever she truly understood exactly how her parents might have got carried away by a tornado of passion. How they might have believed that if their bodies were so in tune so must
their minds be.
Well, Imogen knew differently, but it was probably just as well not to put that knowledge to any further test.