The Couple Behind the Headlines (23 page)

Around the corner, and out of sight and earshot, Jack killed the engine and punched the steering wheel. Hard.

Damn it all. What had just happened there? And what had happened to his decision to put things right? Put things right? Hah. Things had imploded so spectacularly they couldn’t have gone any more wrong.

With hindsight he should
never
have acted on the reckless desire to sort things out with Imogen once and for all and head straight here after his drink with Luke. He should have gone home and given himself the evening to perfect his plan.

Although, while it might have been a bit hastily cobbled together, in all honesty he didn’t think the proposal he’d put forward could be much more perfect. Imogen had made it clear that despite not wanting anything permanent she’d wanted more than just sex, so his suggestion should have been ideal.

So why had she turned it down? Why did he get the feeling
that he’d somehow disappointed her? And how had things descended into that ridiculous argument?

Jack raked his hands through his hair and scowled out into the darkness as he tried to figure it out.

Had her objection really only been down to trust? Because if it had then why hadn’t he simply told her he loved her? She’d asked for a reason to trust him, and surely that was an excellent one. Why had he hesitated? Had it simply been the fact that he’d been stung she’d even had to ask, or was it that he’d realised that perhaps she had a point because how could she trust him when, having never been in this position before, he had no idea if he could trust himself?

But that was absurd. Of course he could trust himself. He loved her. Insanely. So insanely that the idea of going off with another woman made him shudder with revulsion. Although not as much as the idea that she might meet someone else did.
That
concept made him feel as if he’d swallowed a bucket of battery acid.

A nice American who could give her what she wanted? Hah.

And then Jack’s heart stopped and he froze in the darkness.

He played back what Imogen had said about her nice American word for word and his head went fuzzy. What she’d said would imply that
he
could never give her what she wanted. Which was nuts. If he only knew what it was she wanted, he’d willingly give it to her.

But perhaps he did.

He went even stiller as the look he’d seen in her eyes just before he’d told her about his workable solution, the one he hadn’t been able to identify, hammered at his brain. What had it been? Resignation? Frustration? Anger? Or had it been hope?

He snapped up straight as the penny finally dropped. Hell. It
had
been hope. But for what? More? Had Imogen in fact wanted more from him than he’d assumed?

His head pounded and his heart thumped as questions battered him on all sides, followed swiftly by a thundering stream of answers. He’d been a blind, stupid fool. Imogen hadn’t wanted things to be over. She’d wanted everything. And what had he done? Suggested a long-distance affair. And he was an idiot, because he’d thought he’d offered her exactly what she wanted, but in truth he hadn’t offered her nearly enough.

Right, thought Jack, suddenly straightening and firing up the engine. Enough was enough. Imogen wanted more from him? She wanted a reason to be able to trust him? Well, he’d give her plenty.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
AKING
an eight-hour flight when she was feeling so miserable was the last thing she needed, thought Imogen numbly, stepping onto the bridge that led to the plane and the next three years.

It had been two weeks since Jack had stalked off, and time hadn’t healed a thing. If anything time had simply made things worse. She missed him terribly and, even though she’d been frantically busy making arrangements to leave, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. She hadn’t been able to stop wondering if she’d made a colossal mistake and whether she should have taken what she could from him when she’d had the chance.

As she’d expected, he hadn’t been in touch—although that hadn’t stopped her foolishly hoping he might—and he hadn’t shown up at her leaving party. Which was no great surprise seeing as she’d stuck to her guns and hadn’t sent him an invitation, but even so, she’d still harboured the secret pathetic hope that he might gatecrash it, if for no other reason than to say goodbye. All night she’d waited and hoped, the revelry going on around her a cruel contrast to the growing despair inside her, but to no avail. He hadn’t come and she’d felt miserable. Since then it had only got worse.

But now she was about to board, Imogen didn’t know why she hadn’t just cancelled the flight altogether. Every minute
of the journey to the airport had felt as if she were on her way to the gallows. Every step was like wading through treacle and she had to force herself to carry on and not give in to the urge to turn round and go home.

Even being told at the boarding gate that she’d been bumped up to first class hadn’t made her feel any better, because what was the point of first class if you didn’t have anyone to drink champagne with? What was the point of having plans and dreams if you didn’t have anyone to share them with?

In fact, without Jack in her life, what was the point of anything any more?

Blinking rapidly against the sudden sting of tears, Imogen pulled herself together. It
would
get better, she told herself firmly, glancing down at her boarding pass and then checking the numbers above the seats. It had to. She just had to be strong. That was all.

Stopping at the seat she’d been allocated, she tightened her grip on her suitcase and hauled it up, her vision blurring at the thought that there really was no going back now.

‘Would you like a hand with that?’

At the sound of the deep, dry, achingly familiar voice, Imogen froze and dropped her case, suddenly feeling so weak that all thoughts of strength evaporated.

‘Jack,’ she murmured, thinking dizzily that if her imagination had resorted to conjuring him up—which it must have done because he couldn’t possibly be here—she was in a worse state than she’d thought.

But just in case it hadn’t, he could and she wasn’t, she blinked away the tears and focused on the man getting to his feet from the seat beside hers. And nearly passed out because there he was, real and solid, looking serious and gorgeous and definitely not a figment of her imagination.

With her stomach in free fall, she could only stare at him in shock as he bent his head and brushed past her, then took
her suitcase and deftly stowed it in the overhead locker. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she said hoarsely.

Jack glanced at her and gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘Flying to New York, I should think.’

Her heart slowly turned over. ‘But why?’ Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence. Surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

‘Why don’t you sit down?’

Imogen stayed standing, mainly because she was so thrown by his presence she didn’t know what to do. ‘I’m not sure I want to spend the next eight hours sitting next to you,’ she said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

But to her astonishment Jack merely grinned and folded himself into his seat. ‘No?’ he said, glancing up at her and then turning his attention to his seat belt. ‘Oh, well, if you want to go back to economy be my guest.’

How did he know where she’d intended to sit? Imogen frowned. ‘Are you responsible for my upgrade?’

‘Yes.’

Telling herself not to read anything into it because what with the way her brain was disintegrating she’d only get it wrong, she said, ‘Thank you. I think.’

‘You’re welcome. I was hoping to have the pleasure of your company for the flight, but if you really don’t want to sit here, that’s fine.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘After all, what’s eight hours when we have the rest of our lives?’

For a moment Imogen thought she must have misheard because Jack had turned his attention to a magazine and was now idly flicking through it as if he had no idea he’d just rocked her world. ‘What?’ she said, sinking into her seat when her legs finally gave way. ‘What did you say?’

‘Shh,’ he murmured as a faint whirring noise came from the flickering screens embedded into the seat backs in from of them. ‘It’s the safety demonstration. Pay attention.’

Pay attention, thought Imogen dazedly.
Pay attention?
How could she possibly pay any attention to anything when
bewilderment and shock were taking up every molecule of her brain? She’d thought that the terrible effect relentless misery had had on her heart and her appearance was bad enough, but it appeared that her reason had also suffered because for the life of her she couldn’t work out what Jack could possibly mean.

Or could she?

Her heart began to thump. Did she dare hope—?

No. She could stop that kind of thinking right now because she couldn’t afford to get it wrong again. He was probably flying to New York on business.

She was so busy trying to remain calm and convince herself that this was indeed the case that she was barely aware of the engines roaring into life, or the air stewards drifting down the cabin to check seat belts. And she was even less aware of taking off.

‘I love planes, don’t you?’

What? Imogen blinked and noticed with some surprise that they were in the air and climbing. She swallowed to make her ears pop and wished she could do the same to her brain, because what was he talking about now? ‘I’ve never really thought about it,’ she muttered.

‘You should, because you know the best thing about them?’

‘I can’t imagine.’

‘There’s no escape.’

Imogen twisted round to face him, her eyebrows lifting. ‘And that’s a good thing?’ She wasn’t so sure.

‘I think so. Even better, there’s absolutely no possibility of anyone storming off.’

She went still. Oh. This wasn’t a conversation about a love of planes. This had subtext. Her senses switched to high alert and her heart began to pound. ‘Good point.’

‘Thank you. In fact,’ he added, turning to look at her, ‘as neither of us is going anywhere for quite a while, we have plenty of time to hammer this out.’

Something about the intensely serious look in his eye made her mouth go dry. ‘Hammer what out?’ she said a little breathlessly.

‘You and me and those assumptions and misconceptions we seem to specialise in.’

Imogen swallowed hard. ‘Wouldn’t a phone call have sufficed?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘Oh. Well. Like you said, I’m a captive audience. Hammer away.’

Jack shifted in his seat to lean closer to her, and as the familiar scent of him hit her brain, she went dizzy. ‘Imogen, I’m sorry about the offer I made. It was crass and stupid. You were right. A long-distance relationship isn’t the answer. At least not for us.’

Yes, it is! she suddenly wanted to yell, but clamped a lid on the urge. ‘I understand why you made it,’ she said instead and took pride in her mature approach.

He tilted his head, the gleam in his eye turning quizzical. ‘I don’t think you do.’

‘No?’

‘No. You know, you were wrong when you accused me of being afraid of commitment.’

Her heart thundered as the hope she’d been struggling to contain suddenly broke free. ‘I was?’

He nodded. ‘I might have had a few issues with rejection and abandonment and things but I’m not afraid of commitment per se. In fact,’ he added with a slow smile, ‘I’ve recently discovered I’m all for it.’

‘That’s great,’ she said warily.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ He paused. ‘But not to just anyone.’

‘No? Well, imagine what would happen to your reputation …’ She tailed off because she was riddled with so much hope and longing and yearning for him she couldn’t think straight any more.

‘I don’t give a damn about my reputation. Or my many issues. I’ve spent far too long focusing on both. The only thing I’m interested in right now is you.’

Imogen’s stomach swooped as if the plane had plunged a thousand feet. ‘Me?’

‘That’s right.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Here’s the thing, Imogen. When I said I cared about you I should have been more specific.’

‘In what way?’ she said, but it came out almost as a whisper.

‘What I should have said is that I love you.’

He looked deep into her eyes and she went dizzy. ‘You love me?’ she echoed, barely able to believe it.

Jack nodded and gave her the ghost of a smile. ‘To distraction. I have done for weeks. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.’

‘So why didn’t you?’ She thought of all the misery she’d had to endure and her chest tightened.

He shrugged. ‘When you said you couldn’t trust me, it kind of blindsided me. I didn’t know what to do.’

Guilt spun through her and Imogen knew that she’d deserved every second of that misery. ‘I’m so sorry about that,’ she said, her cheeks reddening with shame. ‘I didn’t mean it. I was hurting and it was a cheap but easy shot.’