“I’m sorry. Recently?”
“When I was seventeen. With her best friend.” She shook her head, pain ripping through her. “My mum went from being this incredibly confident, funny, forthright, intelligent woman to such a shadow. It killed her. She started to question everything about who she was and what she said. I’ve never seen such a transformation. I wouldn’t have thought it possible until then.”
“She stayed with him?”
“She loves him.” Imogen turned and began walking, her head dipped low, her eyes studying the uneven footpath at their feet. “And she loved him even through that. He claimed it was a mistake, but it had gone on for a long time.”
“And has their relationship recovered?”
Imogen fixed him with a level stare; a stare that belonged to someone at least twice her age. “How can a relationship recover from that kind of dishonesty? Her best friend. It was awful.”
Something like a cascade formed in his mind. “You told me you couldn’t go to university for personal reasons. This? This is why you stayed at home?”
Surprise briefly glimmered in the depths of her ocean-blue eyes and then she nodded stiffly. “I was worried about my mum. Worried about him. Through the whole mess of the affair, all that screaming and shouting and fighting, they would try to be normal around me. The more I was around, the more normal they were, until finally, they almost seemed to be my mum and dad again.” Her smile was bleak. “But I don’t know if that was the right decision, really. Maybe they should have broken up. I don’t know.”
“It’s not your decision to make,” he pointed out, but his voice cracked with sympathy. “And certainly not your cross to bear.
“I know.” She forced a bright smile to her face even when her heart was back in the past, aching with the pains it had carried for so long. “Do you see your dad often now?”
“Sure.” His shrug hid a world of betrayal; the pain of neglect. “I took over the family business but he’s a control freak from way back. We have brunch a couple of times a month.”
“Brunch?” Her smile was droll. “How very grand.”
“Quite.” He softened the pronouncement with a wink that made her toes curl.
“And does he know about me?”
“No.” Theo slowed his pace, his head tilted downwards. “Let’s get through my mother first, mmm?”
“Is that something I need to brace myself for?”
His smile was lopsided. “She’ll be civilized.”
A shiver of apprehension ran down Imogen’s spine but she covered it with a smile. “What’s she like?”
He tilted his head to hers, his eyes seeing everything she didn’t say. “She’s a product of her upbringing.” He turned his attention back in front of them and, as a car came rushing past, braced Imogen with a hand around her hip, clamping her protectively to his side.
Sparks simmered out from his touch, and it wasn’t long before they were cascading into a full-blown electrical meltdown. It was hotter than flame and far more imperative; it licked hungrily at her insides, demanding acknowledgement. Response. Release.
“I keep telling myself I can’t feel like this. I can’t want you,” he said thickly, lifting a hand to her hair and stroking it, as she’d hoped he would when she had chosen to leave it loose. “So why can’t I stop thinking about you?”
“It’s like that first night.” The words were hollow, her eyes enormous as unconsciously she swayed towards him.
“It can’t be.” He cupped her cheeks, his strong fingers stroking her gently, tentatively, with a sense of wonder that made her tummy backflip again and again. “I want to protect you. To look after you.”
Her smile was a small flicker but her body was too distracted to provide anything further. “I think this would qualify.”
His expression hardened and she knew he was fighting a losing battle.
“You’ve already kissed me once,” she pointed out, wrapping a hand around his back and pressing it tight to the warmth of his flesh, marveling at the illicit pleasure of the contact.
“And you told me you don’t want this.” A plea. A hoarse need to be released from her limitations. “You told me we can’t do this.”
“You’d just offered me money in exchange for … well. I don’t know. I was angry.”
“The money was not an exchange. It’s my responsibility.”
“I don’t see it that way.” Her eyes clashed with his and the need to kiss him was as fierce and strong as if she’d been punched.