‘You think I can’t do adoring?’ he asked.
‘I’m finding it hard to imagine.’
‘Watch and learn, Imogen. Watch and learn.’
His cool broad fingers grasped hers and Imogen bit her lip to hold in her gasp. It was their first contact in days and her skin reacted like a parched plant in the depths of the Sahara to rain.
A little flicker of envy ignited in her as they approached Leila—even the stunning photos that graced the celebrity mags hadn’t done her justice. Long blonde hair shimmered under her veil, exotic green eyes lit up as they rested on Joe, and her smile demonstrated the slant of perfect cheekbones and the curve of glossy provocative lips.
‘J!’ she exclaimed in a melodious yet husky voice that fitted the setting perfectly.
Any second now birds would swoop from the sky and land on her and everyone would break into song.
Not that Imogen cared. Much. So who knew why a mixture of jealousy and mortification seared her insides as Leila threw her arms around Joe before stepping back and raising a hand to cup his jaw?
‘It’s so very good to see you, J. I do appreciate you coming.’
Imogen tried not to clench her nails into Joe’s palm and made an attempt to access the voice of reason. Leila was the bride—no way was she hitting on Joe. Or should she say J? All ex-girlfriends didn’t have an agenda to win back their boyfriends. This was closure. Yet … damn it … she wasn’t imagining that proprietorial look on Leila’s face.
Joe stepped back and put an arm around Imogen’s waist, squeezed her against him. ‘Good to see you too, Leila—and congratulations. This is Imogen.’
Imogen blinked—was that Joe’s voice? Low and tender and … well … adoring? As if he were introducing someone special and precious?
The bride’s perfect smile froze a touch—she was sure of it.
‘Imogen. I am so happy to meet you. You and I must have a proper girl-to-girl chat at the reception.’
Well, wouldn’t that be fun? ‘Super,’ Imogen said, managing a smile as they moved along to stand in front of Howard.
‘Joe. My man.’ The groom slapped Joe on the back with what looked like excessive force. ‘Thanks for coming along, dude,’ he said. ‘It means a lot to Leila—which is why I told her of course I didn’t mind. Oh, and from one surfing dude to another—make sure you take your board out while you’re here.’
Joe’s lean body tensed next to hers and Imogen glanced up at him. Surfing dude? Joe was a surfing dude? Could Howard be mixing him up with someone else? There was nothing in Joe’s face to indicate his thoughts; his features could have been carved from granite.
‘Imogen.’ Howard grasped her hands. ‘It is so very nice to meet you and to know that Joe is in good hands. Hope you like the yurt?’
‘It’s—’ Before Imogen could reply she saw Leila’s head turn.
‘But I put Joe and Imogen in the villa, sweetie.’
‘I changed the plan, sugar puff. Paid a bundle for that yurt—shame for it to go to waste.’
A small frown creased Leila’s brow before she smiled her radiant smile. ‘Wonderful idea.’
‘It’s incredible,’ Imogen chipped in, before they moved along to where the bride’s and groom’s parents awaited.
‘Phew …’ She whistled as they walked away from the line. ‘I don’t think you’re exactly Mr Popular—with Howard’s family or Leila’s.’
‘No big surprise, given the way I treated Leila.’
Imogen frowned. ‘I’m not sure that’s the problem.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I get the idea they’re worried that Leila still has feelings for you. To be honest, if I was your real girlfriend so would I be.’
Come to that, even as his fake girlfriend she wasn’t happy about the idea.
Joe shook his head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. This is Leila’s wedding day—she hasn’t seen me in seven years. And, believe me, she can’t possibly have any good memories of how we parted.’