‘I’VE BEEN THINKING about what you said.’
Jasper came striding down the path towards her and Imogen halted in her pegging out of George’s tiny clothes, momentarily transfixed. The back garden was a riot of shrubs, palms and flowerbeds, but none of that could hold a candle to the man moving with such easy grace towards her.
He carried George in his arms, completely at ease as if he’d been born to it. The image of a little baby held against a pair of broad, sigh-worthy shoulders—all of George’s small helplessness contrasted with Jasper’s power and strength—had the potential to do crazy things to a woman’s insides. Protectiveness and nurturance all wrapped up in a single glorious package. Was there anything more attractive—?
She broke off, realising that Jasper was staring at her expectantly. She tried to click her mind into gear. ‘You’ve been thinking about what I said?’ she parroted, hoping she didn’t look completely at sea.
‘About Emily.’
She eased back to survey him more fully. ‘About the possibility of her being in trouble?’
He nodded.
She glanced at George, currently fascinated by a bird singing in a nearby shrub, before turning back to Jasper with his serious grey eyes and mouth that was made for smiling but so rarely did. She was becoming too invested here, but how could she not? The way these two had bonded in the last couple of days amazed her. They adored each other. And it made her fear for them both.
She swallowed. ‘And…?’
‘I have a favour to ask.’
Her heart leapt. Which made no sense. She bent down to retrieve a tiny pair of shorts from the laundry basket. ‘Okay.’
He took the shorts from her and handed her George. ‘I need your help.’
‘Okay.’ She focussed on the variety of romper suits, bibs and singlets that waved in the breeze like colourful bunting and tried to get her racing pulse under control.
He pegged out the shorts and then reached into the basket for a bib and pegged it out too. She wanted to tell him that she was paid to do the laundry, but didn’t because…well, he was the boss and she guessed he was also paying her to hold the baby.
‘Does that mean you’ll help?’
‘Of course I will.’ A woman could be in trouble, and there was a baby involved. How could she refuse?
And just maybe the warmth from a pair of grey eyes as they rested on her didn’t hurt either.
That’s shallow, Imogen. Seriously shallow.
But Jasper’s eyes weren’t shallow. They hinted at depths she found intriguing…fascinating.
He reached out and clasped her forearm in silent thanks. The heat of his touch penetrated through skin, muscle and sinew, making her want more. She sucked in a breath as the ground beneath her feet shifted. It took her so off guard she didn’t have time to hide her reaction. His gaze narrowed and his nostrils flared. She recognised the same need and hunger coursing through his eyes.
Everything inside her clenched. She forgot to breathe.
He stepped back, distancing himself behind a mask of stern calmness, and she gulped in a breath, reminding herself that he was her employer and she was his employee. And even if that weren’t the case she wasn’t getting involved with someone who’d marooned himself on a desert island.
She had plans. Lauren was relying on her. She was relying on Lauren. As soon as she left here she was throwing herself wholeheartedly into those plans. If she didn’t she and Lauren would lose everything they’d worked and saved so hard for—it wasn’t just her money they were risking, but Lauren’s too. They’d made a solemn promise to give this new business of theirs every chance they could—to give it their very best efforts. She squared her shoulders. She wasn’t letting Lauren down, and she would prove the naysayers wrong.
Tesoura was idyllic for some holiday R & R, but there was no way she’d ever live in a place like this.
Not that he’d ever ask her to.
Which was exactly as it should be.
She retreated to a nearby stone bench and busied herself bouncing the baby. Tried to quieten the clamour flooding her veins.
‘I didn’t realise how much laundry a baby could generate.’
Jasper surveyed George’s clothes flapping in the breeze, obviously not finding it difficult to move on from thoughts of touching her. Well, she could move on too—with the same super-duper ease. She pasted on a bright smile, which admittedly was a little difficult when she was gritting her teeth, and tickled George’s stomach. ‘Messy little tyke, aren’t you?’
Jasper continued pegging out the clothes. She kept her gaze trained on a nearby hibiscus flower in bright red.
‘Is there a trick to it?’
Jasper, with the now empty basket clasped to his side, stared at her. She moistened dry lips. ‘A trick to what?’
‘Washing George’s clothes.’
She tried to stop her eyes from staring. ‘You want to do the laundry?’
‘Want is too strong a word, but you said you’d teach me everything I needed to know. I want to know how to do it all. And it doesn’t seem fair that you get landed with all the boring, mundane bits.’
That was the problem. Right there. In that one gloriously generous sentence. He said something like that, and it turned her to mush. He acted all lord of the manor one moment, and then…and then the opposite of that. It could knock a girl sideways if she was taken unawares. She did what she could to stiffen a backbone that wanted to melt. ‘Jasper, stuff like doing the laundry is what you’re paying me for.’
‘But if something were to happen to you or Katherine—say you both got a tummy bug—or were simply busy with other things, I’d need to know how to do something as basic as wash George’s things.’
She knew he came from a privileged background, but surely he knew the fundamentals. ‘You, um…have done a load of washing before, right?’
He looked momentarily horrified, and then he laughed. ‘It’s true that my family had household staff when I was growing up, but seriously, Imogen. Your aunt was my family’s housekeeper for nearly twenty years. What do you think?’
She bit back a grin. ‘I expect she made sure you and your sister learned a few life skills.’
‘Precisely. I know how to operate my washing machine. I do my own laundry when your aunt takes her annual leave.’
Why hadn’t he granted her leave at Christmastime? The more she learned about him, the more of a puzzle that became. She couldn’t imagine him denying her aunt any request for leave.
Which maybe meant Katherine had lied to them. It maybe meant her aunt hadn’t wanted to spend Christmas with her family.
She swallowed.
‘Imogen?’
She shook herself. ‘The only difference is in the laundry powder. We use a milder detergent for George’s things. A baby’s skin is more sensitive than an adult’s.’ She led him into the laundry room where she pointed the relevant washing powder out to him.
He nodded. ‘Okay, got it.’
The laundry was generous by laundry room standards, but far too small to be confined in with Jasper and her own see-sawing hormones. Especially when he leaned in close to take George from her arms. The scent of warm spice invaded her senses. She took a hasty step back and spun on her heel to lead the way into the kitchen. ‘So how can I help? What’s this favour you want to ask?’
‘I want to set up a fake social media account. I’ve spent the last two days trying to contact Emily, but with no luck. It could be that she’s simply wanting to avoid me.’
The worry in his eyes belied that, though, and it tugged at her heart. ‘You think you’ll be able to reach her via social media?’
‘It’s worth a shot. I suspect Aaron monitors all her phone calls and social media accounts. He’d never allow her to friend me or anyone associated with me.’
She still wasn’t a hundred per cent sure what this had to do with her.
‘But he probably wouldn’t look twice if she received a friend request from Jupiter Collins, who attends the same gym.’
The penny dropped. ‘You want me to pose on social media as Jupiter Collins.’
‘Complete with a profile pic, history and a social calendar filled with all the things young women your age like to do.’
‘I already have social media accounts, though. My picture is already out there in cyberspace. Won’t that…’ she lifted her hands ‘…cause problems, blow our cover?’
‘I have computer programs that will help with that. When I’m finished with your picture, you won’t recognise yourself.’
‘Okay, let’s do this.’
They left the baby with Katherine. Once in his office, the first thing Jasper did was position Imogen against a wall without windows, so there was no possibility of the view giving away their location, and took a photo.
She watched in amazement as he hunkered down at the computer with her image before him on the screen and changed her dark brown hair—all wild curls—to a sleek blonde shoulder-length bob. Her hazel eyes became blue and he lightened her skin tone. She tried not to grimace as he then did odd things, like lengthen her face, widen her smile and enlarge her eyes.
She pressed her fingers to her face, to reassure herself that everything there was unchanged. ‘Me, but not me. It’s amazing.’
Jasper studied the image on his screen. ‘I like the real you better.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she snorted. ‘She’s thinner, has beach-blonde hair and big baby blues. And is a gym junkie!’
Jasper laughed, and for a moment it felt as if she were catching a big wonderful wave that rolled you gently all the way to shore. ‘While you’re sassy, funny and cute. And a surf junkie.’
He thought she was cute? Really?
She tossed her hair. ‘Sassy is just another word for “lack of subservience”, right?’
He chuckled again, his fingers typing away furiously. ‘I’m not all that interested in subservience, Imogen. Your good heart is of far more value to me.’
Don’t melt. Don’t melt.
He suddenly froze. ‘This—’ he gestured to the screen ‘—isn’t some weird male fantasy of mine. I wouldn’t want you thinking that this is a… I mean…’
She took pity on him. ‘That’s good to know, Jasper.’
He eyed her uncertainly and then turned back to his computer. ‘I made up a short bio for our Ms Collins last night.’
Jupiter Collins’s biography appeared on the screen, and Imogen leaned in closer to read it.
‘I have her living in a neighbouring Sydney suburb to Emily, and she goes to the same gym. I made her five years younger so they can’t be old school friends.’
She read the bio, and something tugged at her. ‘Give her a baby too.’
‘Why?’
‘So, we can tell her how George is doing.’
He swung to her. ‘That’s a really nice idea. Boy or girl?’
‘Girl.’
‘Name?’
‘Georgia,’ she said immediately. ‘Georgia… Jas…’ She tried to think of a feminine version of Jasper. ‘Jasmine! Georgia Jasmine.’
He huffed out a laugh but sobered almost immediately. ‘A baby will provide another point of contact. They both go to the gym and have babies of a similar age. Jupiter’s friend request shouldn’t raise Aaron’s suspicions.’
His fingers flew across the keyboard. They looked sure and capable and she’d never realised before how sexy a man’s hands could be. The thought of those hands on her body—
Heat exploded through her and she had to look away.
Inappropriate. Seriously inappropriate.
‘How…um…?’ She cleared her throat. ‘If you and your sister are estranged, how do you know what gym she goes to?’
‘I rang her best friend yesterday.’
He’d been busy.
‘Aaron hates Prue. Has forbidden Emily from having anything to do with her.’
Imogen’s nose curled. ‘I really don’t like this man.’
‘I hate him.’
He slumped as if all the energy had drained from him at that admission. Imogen found herself reaching out to clasp his hand.
‘You’re doing what you can. You’re keeping George safe and you’re giving Emily a way to contact you if she needs to. One step at a time.’
His hand tightened about hers. ‘I shouldn’t have leapt to conclusions so quickly—shouldn’t have been so caught up in my own bitterness that I discounted the possibility that she might be in trouble.’
He glanced at their joined hands and then released her so fast it made her blink. She pulled her hand into her lap, her heart starting to pound. ‘What matters is that you’re doing something now.’
He went back to his typing, his mouth set in a straight line. ‘Emily and Prue accidentally bump into each other every once in a while. Prue makes sure of it. She agrees with you, by the way. She said the only reason Emily would send George away was if something was wrong.’
And he’d immediately leapt into action to help a sister who hadn’t spoken to him in two years.
‘I’m giving Jupiter three months’ worth of history.’
‘How on earth can you do that if you’re only creating the profile today?’
He glanced at her from beneath his brow. ‘It’s probably better not to ask.’
Right.
‘Any suggestions for things Jupiter might’ve posted?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely.’
The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘You didn’t hesitate.’
‘I’m a very social person. I have a phone full of photos that I’ve shared on social media.’
‘Social, huh?’
‘I take pictures of movies I’ve seen, books I’m reading—usually for my book club—pictures of my toes after I’ve had a pedicure. Cocktails make great pictures to share. And the beach. I share oodles of pictures of the beach. And my softball team’s scores.’
‘You play softball?’
‘Yep. It’s off-season at the moment, but I’m a halfway decent hitter and—’ she waggled her eyebrows ‘—I’m third base.’
‘You don’t say?’ Those delicious lips curved upwards. ‘You lead a full life.’ The smile faded and his brow knitted together. ‘You must hate it here.’
What on earth…? ‘Of course I don’t hate it. Tesoura is paradise, and Aunt Katherine is here. It’s the perfect spot for a mini-break.’
‘But you’d never settle in a place like this for good?’
‘No way. I’d holiday here again in a heartbeat. But I couldn’t live the kind of life you do, Jasper. I love my softball team and my book club. I’d miss my family and friends too much. I love my life. Why would I give all that up? Even for an island paradise?’
* * *
I love my life. Imogen’s words rang through Jasper’s mind. Had he ever loved his life?
The answer came swift and sure. No.
He’d been fiercely glad when, at the age of eighteen, he’d broken away from his father’s control. In retaliation, Keith Coleman had refused to pay for his son’s university studies, had refused to introduce him to the so-called ‘right people’ and had refused to put his name forward at his exclusive gentlemen’s club. Jasper didn’t regret any of it.
He’d used the modest legacy his grandmother had left him to help fund his studies. He’d worked part-time and had flat-shared with three other guys. He’d got by just fine.
He’d loved being free of his father. But he hadn’t loved his life. His victory had been bittersweet. Neither his mother nor Emily had ever managed to escape, despite all of his begging, despite the detailed plans he’d given them to prove they could make it work. He’d had to continue watching from the sidelines as his father had directed their lives with a filthy temper and an iron fist.
At the age of twenty-five he’d invented a universal print drive that had made him millions. He’d renewed his petitions to his mother and Emily to come and live with him, or to let him buy them houses of their own away from Keith and Aaron. He’d promised them money and whatever else they needed, had sworn to protect them. But again, they’d both refused.
And then everything had blown up in his face and…
And he’d come here.
Luckily he’d had the means to do that!
But while he’d been free, he hadn’t been happy.
His money meant he’d been able to put together a crack team of computer programmers. His company made some of the market’s bestselling computer games. That gave him satisfaction. There’d been a couple of women he’d imagined himself in love with over the years. Those affairs had been exciting. But he’d never experienced the kind of bone-deep contentment with his life that Imogen evidently did with hers.
And while a part of him envied it, he also suspected a life like that could never be his. A person needed a better childhood than he’d had to achieve that kind of happiness—the sense of security that such happiness could last and was worth investing in.
It was a timely reminder of the gulf that lay between him and his intriguing part-time nanny. He was in danger of finding her too interesting, too…desirable. And he needed to annihilate all thoughts in that direction. Mentally girding his loins, he glanced across to find her scrolling through pictures on her phone.
‘I can’t use photos you’ve already uploaded to social media,’ he felt bound to point out.
‘But there are oodles and oodles that I haven’t used. I took some of the gardens in the local park.’
They’d be suitably generic. Jupiter could be interested in gardening. Excellent.
‘Here’s a lovely glass of Sémillon.’
She liked Sémillon?
‘Wait, what was that?’ He touched her wrist as a couple of photos whizzed past.
She went back and a picture of a formal dress appeared. ‘This?’ She turned the screen more fully towards him. ‘We’re not sharing that. It’s one of my new designs. I’ve been snapping the odd shot to share when I open my school in May.’
He sat back. He didn’t know why he was so shocked. ‘You’re a designer?’ On some level he’d always known she wasn’t actually a housemaid, but… ‘You’re opening a design school?’
‘I’m a dressmaker,’ she corrected. ‘And it’s more a sewing school than a design school. We’ll teach sewing, dressmaking, pattern making and so forth. We’ll also offer a bespoke dressmaking service.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re hoping it’ll keep us busy.’
‘Us?’
‘A girlfriend and I are going into partnership.’
‘Why are you waiting till May? Why not now?’
‘The premises we’ve leased don’t become available until then. And Lauren is on contract in the UK until March, so…’
He didn’t know what to say. ‘I had no idea.’
‘There’s absolutely no reason why you should.’ That cheeky smile peeped out, making things inside his chest fizz like champagne. ‘So maybe now you can see why I have such a problem with subservience. I actually want to be the big kahuna.’
She winked as she said it, though, and he knew she was simply teasing him. But… ‘Launching a brand-new business. It’s—’ He snapped his mouth shut.
None of his business.
Those green sparkles in her eyes dimmed as if she knew exactly what he was going to say. ‘Why aren’t I back home frantically preparing for the launch of my school?’ She started flicking through her photos again, but her knuckles had turned white. ‘Lauren and I have been working towards this launch for two years. We’ve got everything in place, ready to go. I’ll be back home in March, maybe sooner, to do all the pre-launch stuff.’ She glanced up as if she was going to say more, but then shrugged. ‘This will be my last chance for some R & R for some time to come, I expect. I mean to enjoy it while I can.’
But she wasn’t getting R & R, was she? She was working as a maid and nanny. He glanced at his watch.
The woman opposite him gurgled back a laugh. ‘Is there somewhere you need to be?’
He liked her laugh, and he liked it when he could make her laugh. He pulled in a breath—mentally pulling back. He had no intention of getting too used to that laugh. It was a temporary treat, like ice cream or cake.
When was the last time you had ice cream?
He rolled his shoulders. That didn’t matter. It just proved how easy it was to give up unnecessary treats—like ice cream, cake and a woman’s smile—and not miss them. And he had no intention of missing Imogen when she was gone either.
In one sudden swift movement, she pushed away from his desk. ‘Oh, you probably are busy! Probably have video conference calls planned and all manner of things. I—’
‘Not today,’ he assured her. ‘I just wanted to make sure we weren’t running late for your daily swim.’
She eased back down into the chair. ‘You don’t have to work that into your schedule, Jasper. It’s my job to work around yours.’
She was already going above and beyond. And he didn’t like the thought of her swimming on her own. He didn’t say those things out loud. He simply said, ‘George enjoys his time on the beach.’
She looked as if she wanted to say something but turned back to her phone instead.
‘What were you going to say?’
The green lights in her eyes caught the sun pouring in at the windows, and it made him suddenly glad that he’d chosen to live on a tropical island rather than some frozen rock in the North Sea.
‘Just that we can take it in turns if you like? Swimming, I mean. You have this amazing beach at your disposal. Why not take advantage of it? It’s way more fun than laps.’
For the past two years he’d exercised—hard. But he’d chosen the gruelling and effective over the fun. He hadn’t felt like having fun. But today her suggestion appealed. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’
Luscious lips broke into a broad smile. ‘Would I mind sitting on the beach, here in paradise, playing with George while you have a dip in the ocean?’ She shook her head. ‘You’re a seriously hard taskmaster, Mr Coleman, but I’m up for that particular challenge.’
He tried not to grin. And failed.
She rested her chin on her hands and pursed her lips. ‘I don’t have the subservient thing down, but you don’t really have the boss thing down either, do you?’
‘My philosophy is to hire the best people, tell them what I want, and then leave them to get on with it. I find that works ninety-nine per cent of the time.’
‘Nice philosophy.’
She gazed at him with frank admiration and it made perspiration gather at his nape. ‘It doesn’t mean I can’t pull rank when I need to.’
‘I already know this about you.’
Damn. Was she never going to let him forget that unfortunate morning when he’d growled at her? He opened his mouth to apologise—again—when he recognised the teasing laughter in her eyes and something inside him eased. ‘Very funny, Ms Hartley. Now if you’d be kind enough to send me some of those photos…?’
She turned her attention back to her phone. ‘I’m sending them with captions.’
‘Because you don’t think I can manage a twenty-five-year-old woman’s voice?’
‘Because it’ll be quicker, and I want to get down to the beach.’
‘That definitely wasn’t subservient.’
He was rewarded with a tinkle of delighted laughter as he watched his email program and waited for the first of her photos to come through. They hit his inbox in quick succession. Her captions were short and sparky and the voice was better—younger—than he could’ve ever managed.
‘So?’
She stared at him with an angled chin, evidently waiting for feedback. He was a firm believer in giving praise where it was due. ‘These are perfect.’
‘I should’ve been a writer.’
For a fraction of a second, he stilled. Did she know Katherine’s secret? Had her aunt finally confided in her? Whether she had or hadn’t, it wasn’t his place to give the game away. ‘It’s not too late,’ he said instead. ‘Though you might be pressed for time with the opening of your new school.’
‘Yeah, nah.’
His lips twitched. ‘Was that a yes or a no?’
‘It’s a maybe.’
She’d gone back to her phone and an influx of new pictures arrived, along with suggestions for status updates. All spot on and useful. He suddenly frowned. ‘Would it be asking too much for me to have a look at your profile?’
‘Friend me.’
Not a good idea.
Her fingers stilled. She glanced up. ‘You don’t have a profile on social media, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Of course he doesn’t,’ she murmured, before gesturing to his keyboard. He opened another browser window and handed the keyboard over, careful to glance away when she typed in her password. Her feed promptly appeared on his screen and as he scrolled down it, he found it as fun and vibrant as the woman herself.
He let out a breath. ‘You and Jupiter don’t sound anything alike.’ It was the reason he’d wanted to check her account.
Liar. You wanted a voyeuristic glimpse into that life she loves.
‘You made it pretty clear you didn’t want anyone being able to trace Jupiter to me—or to link us together in any way.’
‘I wish some of the people I work with were as quick to read between the lines as you.’
‘Ooh, do I sense a promotion to Marketing Manager?’
‘Not a chance.’ He channelled his best Captain Von Trapp impression to counter the overwhelming desire to reach across and slam his lips to hers. ‘Way too much trouble for the abbey.’
She didn’t laugh as he’d expected. Her gaze was focussed on the computer. She pointed. ‘That’s my family. At Christmas. The holiday is a big deal for us.’
She had a big extended family. And every person in the photograph wore a big grin and a silly paper hat—the kind that came from Christmas crackers. There were pictures of huge platters of king prawns sitting either side of a baked ham that held pride of place on a table groaning with baked vegetables and salads. There were pictures of a game of backyard cricket and a water fight. It was about as far from the Christmases of his childhood as one could get.
He thought of George and his heart burned. What would his nephew’s future Christmases be like?
‘Of course, Aunt Katherine wasn’t there, which put a bit of a dampener on things.’
Katherine hadn’t been there? Why not? She’d told him—
He gulped the question back and glanced up to find Imogen… Well, she wasn’t actually glaring at him, but it was only one level away. There was definitely puzzlement in those eyes, and a lurking resentment.
Katherine hadn’t been at the Hartley family Christmas.
And Imogen blamed him for it. He’s difficult and demanding.
‘What do you do for Christmas, Jasper?’
‘Nothing.’
She straightened. ‘What, really? Nothing? No roast turkey or ham or…or a plum pudding or presents?’
‘Nothing,’ he repeated, a bad taste coating his tongue.
‘You don’t have your bachelor buddies come to stay or…or…?’
‘Nothing.’
The single word sounded stark.
It was stark.
He glanced back at the photographs on the screen. All that laughter and fun… He could never re-create that in a million years—he wouldn’t know where to start—but in the future he could at least make an effort. He had to. For George’s sake.
‘What happened to you, Jasper?’
He glanced across at her whispered words. Her eyes had welled with such sadness he reached out to touch her cheek, aching to offer her some form of comfort. He wanted to tell her not to cry for him, but the words wouldn’t come.
He pulled his hand back and lifted his chin. ‘Nothing of any note.’ It’d be better for her to not get involved in his life. Much better. ‘C’mon, it must be time for that swim.’