The Couple Behind the Headlines Read Online Free PDF Page A

socialite. The kind of pointless woman who did nothing but flit from party to party and hit the headlines with her antics. The kind of pointless woman his mother was.
So what if during their brief conversation she’d made him laugh? So what if she’d made his body respond so intensely that all he could think about was how much he wanted to wrap her round him and keep her there for hours? She was the sort of woman he despised, the sort he’d spent most of his adult life avoiding, and if he ever bothered to look back on this evening he’d be grateful he’d had such a lucky escape.
That was what the sane, logical part of his brain was telling him.
However, another louder, more insistent part of his brain, the part that housed a deeply ingrained, deeply hidden craving for approval, and the part that would, if he let it, wonder what was wrong with him, demanded to know why she’d said what she had and why she’d changed her mind.
Not because he wanted to change it back. No. Now he was finally listening to that warning voice inside his head, he had no intention of pursuing her. He just wanted to know what she thought gave her the right to be so rude, and what exactly it was that she had against him.
There was no way he was allowing someone like Imogen Christie to just waltz off with the last word and no explanation, he thought grimly, watching her push through the door and disappear into the night. No way.
So forget the gold-streaked hair that made him want to tangle his hands in its silky softness. Forget the eyes of such a deep brown that looking into them was like falling into a vatof molten chocolate. Forget the curves that his hands itched to caress. He really didn’t need the distraction.
What he needed were answers, and he’d get them, whether she liked it or not.

CHAPTER THREE
W HAT an idiot, Imogen told herself for the hundredth time as she stood on the street and shivered in the chilly February breeze.
What on earth had possessed her to say that ? Why, oh, why hadn’t she just smiled serenely, told Jack she had a boyfriend or something and left it there?
Whatever had happened to her decision to stay cool and collected at all times? To do absolutely nothing that might attract the attention of the press? It was a good thing she hadn’t given in to temptation and flung that glass of champagne all over him. That really would have been the pits.
Maybe the whole Connie/Max engagement thing had affected her more than she’d thought, because the way everything inside her had merged into one hot seething tangle of emotion and then swooped up, seizing control of her brain and her senses, had been weird.
How could she have been so rude ? she asked herself yet again, stamping her feet in an effort to inject a degree of heat into her body and scouring the shadowy, empty street for a taxi. Jack might be everything she detested in a man—well, aside from his considerable physical attributes, of course—but that was no excuse. She was never rude.
Imogen winced with shame as her words flew back into her head. What had she been thinking ? OK, so she’d barelybeen thinking at all, let alone rationally, but that was no excuse, either.
Not that there was anything she could do about it now. She couldn’t rewind time and she could hardly go back and apologise, could she? An apology—even assuming he’d be willing to listen—would lead to conversation and undoubtedly a request for an explanation, and she really didn’t want to go into the reason for her temporary mental meltdown.
No. All she could do was hope that Jack had written her off as bonkers, slope off home, open a bottle of wine and forget all about the entire excruciating afternoon.
If her brother and his family had been around she’d have invited herself over for supper and let herself be plied with wine and sympathy, clambered all over by her niece and nephew, and maybe let herself not feel quite so lonely and messed up for a while. But unfortunately they were