Honeymoon with the Boss. Jessica Hart
she said with careful restraint, ‘you didn’t.’
She was only his temporary PA, but he might have told her, she thought. Subsiding onto the chair, Imogen studied him across the desk as he scanned another letter and wondered what his fiancée was like.
Thin, no doubt. And probably beautiful, she decided glumly.
Funny how men with millions to squander never chose to spend them on average-looking girls who could do with losing a few pounds, wasn’t it?
‘Well…congratulations!’ she said brightly. ‘When did all this happen?’
‘At New Year.’ Tom looked uncomfortable with the personal turn of the conversation.
‘When you were in New York?’ Imogen asked, surprised. He had certainly gone on his own—she knew because she had booked his ticket—and he didn’t seem the type to spend a romantic weekend with a stranger, let alone rush into marriage.
‘I’ve known Julia for nearly a year,’ said Tom, as if reading her mind. He signed the last letter and sat turning the pen between his fingers with a brooding expression, giving a very bad impression of a besotted lover. ‘But we didn’t get together until just before I came back to London four months ago.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’
‘There didn’t seem to be any need. We weren’t going to get married until next year. Julia is a financial analyst, and she obviously has to sort out what’s going to happen about her job if she moves over here, so I thought we had plenty of time.’
‘Oh.’ Imogen wasn’t sure what else to say. It certainly didn’t sound like a mad, passionate love affair, but perhaps Tom was different behind closed doors.
With a mouth like that, it would be a shame if he wasn’t.
‘So when are you getting married?’ she asked after a moment.
‘In six weeks.’
‘Six weeks!’ Maybe it was a mad, passionate affair after all! ‘Gosh, that’s not long.’
‘I know.’
Tom could hear the glumness in his own voice, and pulled himself up. He ought to be sounding more enthusiastic at the prospect. After all, getting married had been his idea.
It had made perfect sense at the time. Julia was a high-flyer, like him. She was beautiful, intelligent, successful. Independent. To Tom, she had seemed everything he wanted in a woman. Their relationship had been mutually satisfying, with neither making any demands on the other, and Tom couldn’t imagine ever meeting anyone who would fit into his life with so little effort.
But that was before he had asked her to marry him and wedding fever had gripped her, transforming her in an instant from a cool, competent businesswoman into a neurotic fiancée, obsessed with dresses and guest lists and flowers and fuss. It was all very alarming, and Tom just hoped that once the wedding was over, Julia would revert to normal.
‘Julia has set her heart on getting married at Stavely Castle,’ he told Imogen, who was obviously wondering what the rush was. ‘We just assumed it would be a year before we could book it, but it turns out that they’ve had a last-minute cancellation, so Julia jumped at the opportunity.’
That cancellation had thrown out all Tom’s calculations. He had planned his proposal with care, just as he planned everything. He preferred his life under strict control. He didn’t do spontaneous. So he had thought it all out, weighed up the advantages and disadvantages and prepared exactly what he would say to Julia. He had expected her to say yes, and she had.
What he hadn’t expected was her excitement. He had assumed that they could carry on much as before for a while, with Julia’s job in Manhattan and his work in London. There was no hurry. They could have a year or so to get used to being engaged and plan the perfect wedding with precision.
But Julia had thrown his plans into disarray. She had thrown herself into planning the wedding with alarming enthusiasm, her ideas becoming more and more extravagant by the day, and once she had heard that the castle would be available so soon, there was no stopping her.
Tom couldn’t understand it at all. He had thought that Julia shared his pragmatic attitude to marriage. She had certainly seemed to agree that they could have a successful relationship based on mutual respect, admiration and attraction. It wasn’t as if she was a silly, romantic girl expecting him to start gushing about love and all that hearts and flowers stuff. Which just made her enthusiasm for the wedding all the more baffling.
‘It’s all very exciting,’ said Imogen encouragingly.
‘Yes,’ Tom agreed, but he knew that he didn’t sound very excited. It was all right for Imogen. Her life hadn’t been thrown into disorder.
‘Julia is coming over next week to start planning the wedding,’ he told her. ‘She’ll be dividing her time between here and NewYork, so she may need your help arranging things.’
‘Of course,’ said Imogen. ‘Whatever I can do to help.’
‘You can sort out this honeymoon business for a start,’ said Tom, flicking open a file, evidently having had enough personal interaction. ‘Julia’s dealing with the wedding, but she tells me it’s up to me to organise the honeymoon.’
‘It’s traditional for the groom to do that,’ Imogen agreed, wondering a little at the undercurrent of irritation in his voice. Poor Julia. She wondered if his fiancée had any idea of just how unexcited Tom was about his wedding.
‘I don’t know anything about honeymoons,’ he was grumbling.
‘It’s not that hard,’ said Imogen with just a hint of asperity. ‘It’s just a holiday. You’ll want a chance to relax after the wedding, so all you need to do is find somewhere romantic where you can be alone.’
Tom frowned. ‘What do you mean by romantic?’
Imogen only just stopped herself from rolling her eyes in time. ‘That depends on you. Everyone’s got a different idea of what’s romantic. What does romance mean to you?’
‘It’s no use asking me,’ he said unhelpfully. ‘I haven’t got a clue.’
Well, there was a surprise!
Imogen sighed. ‘Just choose somewhere relaxing, in that case.’
‘It’s got to be “special”.’ Tom used his fingers to put hooks around the word, barely able to contain his discomfort with the idea. ‘I can’t just book it as if it were a normal holiday. Julia is obviously expecting me to arrange something fabulous.’
‘I expect she is.’
‘I haven’t got time to research fabulous holidays,’ Tom objected.
He studied Imogen with critical grey eyes. When he had first arrived at Collocom Imogen had been assigned as his temporary assistant until he appointed a PA of his own.
At first sight, he hadn’t been impressed, Tom had to admit. She was younger and infinitely more casual than any secretary he had had before, and she had no experience of working at a senior executive level. As far as Tom could work out, she had drifted into secretarial work and was utterly lacking in ambition. It was symptomatic of the failing firm that the best assistance they could offer their new Chief Executive was a temp whose only relevant experience was a two-week assignment in Human Resources, he had thought disapprovingly.
With that wayward brown hair and relaxed approach to the dress code, Imogen always seemed faintly messy to Tom. Her desk was an absolute disgrace, for instance, and in spite of her temporary status she appeared to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of every member of staff’s social life. If Tom hadn’t had his hands full taking over the reins of a company whose shares were plummeting in value on a daily basis, he would have insisted on a more professional PA, but stopping the slide and turning Collocom round was his priority for now.