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CHAPTER FIVE
IMOGEN SWEPT A sideways glance across the limo that Richard had insisted they use and shifted on the seat, nerves jangling. Joe’s whole body pulsed with contained anger and had done ever since they had said their goodbyes to Richard and Crystal. It wasn’t her fault that Richard had come up with this mad idea, so she could only assume that his irritation was at the situation—not her.
Sod it. The brooding silence was getting old. ‘So,’ she said brightly, ‘isn’t it generous of Richard to say he’ll pay for any clothes and things that we need to purchase? And to have booked us a table at one of the poshest restaurants in Paris?’ She glanced down at he
rself. ‘Do you think this is all right to wear to eat in a French restaurant? Probably not.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference to me whether you wear a sack,’ he said, the words rasping in the regulated air of the limo. ‘So don’t waste your time or Richard’s money on a seduction outfit.’
‘What?’ Confusion tangled her vocal cords. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t like being played, Imogen.’
‘Still not with you.’
‘I don’t trade business favours for sexual ones.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The kiss.’
Her neck cracked as she swivelled on the plush leather seat to face his grim expression. The dusk had harshened the angles of his face further. ‘Are you for real? You think that was for business reasons?’
‘You wouldn’t be the first to try it. You said yourself you would do anything to save Langley. Maybe you’re hoping to persuade me to drop the buy-out plan, give your friends their jobs back.’ He leant back against the padded leather. ‘So if you had seduction plans for later cancel them.’
‘Believe me, Joe, I’d rather seduce …’ Hell she couldn’t think of anyone low enough. ‘Ivan …’
‘Maybe that’s your plan B. Though I can’t help feeling sorry for that poor sap of a boyfriend you’ve got at home, waiting to propose. The man who satisfies your crazy tick-list. Does Steve know you go round kissing people in cafés? Sitting on their laps and—’
‘Stop!’
Imogen wondered if it were possible to explode with rage. If so, she damn well hoped she took Joe with her. Anger ignited, heated her veins. How dared he?
‘You arrogant, stupid schmuck! For your information, Steve and I split up six weeks ago.’
He snorted. ‘More lies, Imogen? Why didn’t you tell Richard?’
‘Because I felt such a damn fool. I raved about Steve to Richard, about him being The One. I was too embarrassed to admit I was wrong.’
As the limo glided to a stop outside a shopping mall tears of sheer rage and mortification threatened. How could Joe tarnish a kiss that had made her blood sing and her head spin? Made her feel attractive and desirable and wanted? Palliated the sting of Steve’s parting words?
Now it turned out he believed she had engineered that kiss because she was a gold-digger, a spy or a cheat. Good grief—if she wasn’t so furious she’d laugh. Because one thing she knew: Joe had been just as much into that kiss as she had.
‘I think you’re forgetting something, here. That you kissed me!’
‘Imogen …’
‘Just leave it, Joe.’ She shoved the car door open, nearly tumbling the chauffeur over as he waited to open the door for her, and set off across the car park, her rage spiking further as she marched, feet pounding the tarmac, and realised he wasn’t damn well even going to follow her.
Fine.
Anger heated her veins, seethed and simmered as her brain formulated a plan.
She’d show him. She’d show him exactly what he was missing. There wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell she’d seduce him, but she was damn well going to make him wish she would.
Sanity tried to point out that maybe Joe had been a little misled by the fib she’d told Richard. But that wasn’t the point! He could just have asked her before jumping to such insulting, stupid conclusions.
An hour later Imogen stared at her reflection, relieved that rage still buoyed her because she knew otherwise there was no way in heaven or hell she would be able to carry this off.
