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‘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—’
