Scandal In The Spotlight. Kimberly Lang
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fact that you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying for the past five minutes is a bit of a clue.’
God, had it been that long? ‘Sorry,’ Jack muttered and frowned.
What was going on? He never felt like this. Never lost track of conversations. On the contrary, his ability to stay focused at all times was legendary. It was what had made him millions. And he never normally had such trouble ordering off a menu, either.
Hmm. Maybe he ought to grovel to his secretary and ask her very kindly to make an appointment with the doctor, because he couldn’t go on like this. He’d drive himself demented and his business into the ground. ‘I was miles away.’
‘Clearly,’ Luke said. ‘Visiting anywhere interesting?’
Feeling distinctly uneasy at the glint in Luke’s eyes, Jack pulled himself together. He had no intention of discussing his symptoms. He’d sound nuts. Besides, it was probably nothing. Everyone had a bad night once in a while, didn’t they? He was just suffering from lack of sleep and overwork. That was all. And he’d have the steak.
‘Nowhere at all,’ he said, snapping the menu shut and fixing the easy life’s-a-breeze smile that he’d mastered from an early age to his face. ‘So what were you saying?’
‘Just checking you’re still on for Saturday.’
Ah. At the thought of Saturday and Daisy, Jack’s smile turned genuine. In a moment of recklessness he’d offered to babysit his god-daughter while Luke and Emily went to a wedding in Cornwall.
What he thought he’d been doing he had no idea. He had zero experience of looking after three-year-old girls and had no desire to do so on any kind of a regular basis. But Luke’s parents were out of the country, and Emily’s sister was busy, and when, with a slightly desperate note to her voice, Emily had told him that she didn’t trust anyone else but him, he hadn’t been able to resist.
Personally, Jack thought her trust in him was highly misplaced, but, although he’d never admit it, he’d do pretty much anything for Luke and Emily, and sacrificing a Saturday night for his gorgeous god-daughter wasn’t exactly a hardship. ‘Of course I’m still on for Saturday.’
‘Because if you had other plans,’ said Luke conversationally, ‘I’m sure we could work something out.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘OK.’ Luke grinned and turned his attention to his own menu. ‘But if you change your mind all you have to do is let us know.’
‘Thanks, but I won’t.’
‘Just offering you a get-out clause if you need one.’
Jack fought the urge to grind his teeth. What the hell was this? He didn’t need a get-out clause. He might have his faults, but backing out of an arrangement—especially one that concerned the only two people in the world whose loyalty and friendship he could count on—wasn’t one of them.
And Luke knew that, which meant that this conversation had some sort of agenda.
‘If there’s a point you’re trying to make, Luke,’ said Jack, sitting back and bracing himself, ‘why don’t you come out and make it?’
‘Fine.’ Luke grinned and looked up. ‘I was just thinking that if you wanted to take a certain Imogen Christie out on Saturday night instead of babysitting Daisy, all you have to do is say. I’m sure we can make other arrangements.’
Jack went still, any semblance of relaxed ease evaporating. ‘What makes you think I’d want to take Imogen Christie out on Saturday night?’
‘Only that this morning Emily had a call from a friend of hers who spotted the two of you at an art exhibition last night. Chatting and then getting into a taxi and looking extremely cosy.’
Cosy? Cosy? Cosy was the last thing it had been. This friend had clearly missed the ‘victim devouring’ comment. ‘I see.’
‘Apparently she was after all the gory details.’
‘There aren’t any.’
Luke arched an eyebrow and grinned. ‘That I find hard to believe.’
Jack shrugged. As far as he was concerned, Luke could believe what he liked. ‘Why are you so interested?’
‘You’re my oldest and best friend. Why wouldn’t I be interested?’
Ah, thought Jack wryly. How could he have forgotten? Of course Luke would be interested. Ever since he’d married three years ago, he’d been dropping not very subtle hints that Jack should think about following his example and settle down himself.
Hah. As if. As much as Luke and Emily might wish otherwise, the last thing he wanted was what they had. They had each other, and Daisy, and another baby on the way. Which was great for Luke, but that kind of family set-up wasn’t for him. Never had been, never would be.
‘So Emily put you up to this?’ he said, stifling a shudder at the thought of settling down.
‘She asked me to get the low-down,’ said Luke, completely without shame.
‘Well, you can tell her to tell her friend that there’s nothing to report. Imogen and I met at the gallery and had a conversation, which continued in a taxi. Then I got out and she carried on to wherever she was going. That was it. End of story.’
‘OK, great.’ Luke grinned and sat back, his mission clearly accomplished. ‘Because if you weren’t up for babysitting, I’m not sure what we’d have done.’
Which only went to prove how subtly Jack had been finessed. Not that he cared about that at this particular moment. The sudden contraction of his muscles had nothing to do with being skilfully finessed. Nor did the pounding of his head and the rocketing of his heart rate.
No. The cause of all that was the thought now ricocheting around his brain to the annihilation of everything else: what if it wasn’t the end of the story?
Jack went hot, then cold, and felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as the idea stopped racing round his head and began to take root.
Wow, he thought, his stomach churning. If it wasn’t and he did in fact consider Imogen unfinished business, then that would certainly explain his unease and his restlessness over the past twelve hours. Was it a coincidence that he’d started feeling like this the minute he’d left her? He didn’t think so.
As realisation dawned all the thoughts his subconscious had been keeping at bay broke though the fragile barrier it had erected and rained down on him.
If he’d done the right thing by getting out of that damn taxi last night, why had it felt the exact opposite? Why had he marched down that street towards his flat feeling as if he had hundred-tonne weights attached to his ankles? Why had the broken dreams he’d had during the moments of sleep he had managed to snatch been filled with such erotic images? Why did his blood heat and desire race though him at the mere thought of her? And why couldn’t he get the memory of her sprawled against him as the taxi had pulled away, her mouth inches from his and her hand clamped to his thigh, out of his head?
Oh, yes, he thought grimly, that definitely sounded like unfinished business.
‘But I can’t help wondering why.’
‘Why what?’ said Jack, dazed by the intensity with which he ached to finish what he’d started with Imogen.
‘Why you aren’t seeing her again. I’ve heard she’s very pretty.’
Imogen was more than pretty. She was beautiful, contrary, fascinating and as sexy as hell, and there was no point in denying it. A wave of heat rocked through him and he shifted on the chair to ease the pressure building in his lower body. ‘She is.’
‘Then