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‘I’m sorry I tried to put you in the villa and gave you all those evil vibes. I know what it looks like, but I’m really not interested in Joe. I love my husband. It’s just …’
‘Just what?’
Leila sighed. ‘I suppose I was so caught up in this story I’d concocted, about being the woman Joe would never be able to get over, that it was a bit of a shock to hear about you and then see that he is genuinely happy. But I’m glad he’s found real love—truly.’
‘Leila, I—’
‘No, really. I know he doesn’t love easily, but I can see how much he adores you. I’m glad he’s found the happiness that I have. I do love Howie, so very much. And that’s why I’ll tell him the unvarnished truth. After the honeymoon!’
Leila winked and rose to her feet, and Imogen couldn’t help but smile as she followed her out of the room.
Once back on deck, Imogen found a secluded spot and leant against the railings as Leila approached Howard, had a quiet word with him, and then kissed him with a long, lingering embrace before she headed over to Joe. Minutes later the two of them headed off the deck.
Imogen turned and faced out to sea, hoping that the long overdue conversation would help Joe to cut himself a little slack. The sound of the waves lapping against the yacht made her heart suddenly ache. Giving up surfing must have been tough for Joe, and it made his insistence that she try out that art lesson make way more sense.
For a while she lost herself in a daydream, trying to imagine a younger, more carefree Joe, master of the waves, travelling to different competitions, sponsored, fêted, and doing something he loved.
But he’d given that dream up—and done so without martyring himself or making his sisters feel bad. He’d done what Eva Lorrimer had been unable to do—how could she not admire him for that?
The hairs on the nape of her neck rose to attention: a sure sign that Joe was in the vicinity.
‘Hey.’
The warmth of his body was right next to her as he leant back against the rails so he was looking directly at her.
‘Hey.’ She smiled at him tentatively ‘How did it go?’
Joe opened his mouth and closed it again, poleaxed by the sheer beauty of her smile. The reddish-orange of her kaftan dress was vivid in the dusk, her eyes bright with a warm, questioning look.
‘It was … great.’ He felt as though he’d shed a weight he’d barely even known he carried. ‘Thank you. Leila told me what you said in there. If you hadn’t championed me we’d both have gone on looking back from a skewed angle. Now we’ve sorted out the good memories and got the bad ones into perspective—and that feels good. So I’ll say it again. Thank you.’ He paused. ‘I take it I’m off the Katrina hook as well?’
‘Yes.’ She blew out air and b
rushed her fringe from her forehead. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that’s exactly what Simone did to get Steve back. Turned up at some party with another man on her arm. He made a beeline for her. Worst thing is, I trusted him—thought he was aiming for closure. Turned out the only place he was aiming for was the bedroom, and I didn’t realise. He two-timed me for months and I didn’t have a clue. When Steve finally told me the truth he told me I was monochrome, grey, whilst Simone lit up his world.’ Slim shoulders hitched. ‘But it doesn’t mean I should have painted you the same colour!’
‘Then he must have been blind. You aren’t grey and you aren’t monochrome. You’re Imogen Lorrimer, smart and beautiful—hell, you practically light up the yacht. I promise.’
For a long moment she stared at him, and his heart twisted as he saw doubt wrestle with her desire to believe him. His feet itched with the urge to get hold of Steve and kick him round the town for what he’d done to Imogen, undermining whatever self-belief her mother had left her with.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
Awareness flickered into being. The strains of music and the raised voices faded and all there seemed to be in the world was Imogen—so beautiful, so damned kissable. Snap out of it, Joe.
He forced a smile to his lips. ‘Hey, we could start a mutual admiration society.’
Imogen blinked as if to break the spell. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
‘I can take a hint. Hold that thought.’
Joe glanced around and waved at a passing waiter, who came over with a champagne-laden heart-shaped tray, decorated with a photograph of Leila and Howard, arms around each other on a beach.
Seconds later they clinked crystal flutes. ‘To mutual admiration,’ Imogen said.
A silence fell. Not awkward; more thoughtful.
And then … ‘Joe?’
