Page 28 of The Retreat
‘If she’d asked me there and then, I would have said no,’ Imogen said.
Talia tensed.
‘I don’t pick up people at work,’ Imogen said with a laugh. ‘That’s how you lose your medical license.’
Everybody laughed again. Talia relaxed.
‘She was professional to a fault,’ Talia said, meeting Imogen’s eyes briefly. ‘But I could tell she wasn’t totally immune to my charm.’
‘Charm is a strong word,’ Imogen muttered under her breath.
Talia smiled wider. ‘Anyway, I waited until the next day to find her again.’
Celeste looked delighted. Daniel leaned in. ‘Wait, you went back?’
‘Nothing too stalkerish,’ Talia said. ‘I just left a note at the hospital reception. And she texted me later that week.’
Imogen gave a small shrug, like it was no big deal. ‘I thought she was, well,interesting,and one drink couldn’t hurt. One drink turned into dinner. Dinner turned into... I’m sure you can imagine.’
‘The rest is history,’ Talia finished, her tone pitched just right.
Celeste was grinning. ‘Eyes meeting over a stethoscope... Very cute.’
There were nods, approving looks, a little ripple of warmth around them. The story had landed. Imogen was breathing a little easier. Talia could feel it in the line of her shoulders. She hadn’t flinched, hadn’t tripped. She’d nailed it.
‘Me and Lara met at a spit roast,’ Daniel said. There was a small silence, during which Lara shot him a look like she was going to kill him. ‘Sorry, I mean ahogroast,’ Daniel said quickly, laughing. ‘Jesus, baby, can you imagine?’
Lara looked like, no, she really couldn’t. Celeste looked away from it all.
Talia leaned in while Daniel droned on about their meeting, her voice low enough for only Imogen to hear. ‘Nice.’
Imogen didn’t look at her but nodded, a small glint of something in her eyes now. Nerves, yes, but maybe pride, too.
Talia turned back to the conversation, that same steady smile in place. This was only the first test. But it hadn’t been a disaster.
And Imogen, it turned out, was a better liar than she gave herself credit for.
Eighteen
The reception had begun to take on the feel of a typical office gathering: laughter, clinking glasses, polite grins worn thin around the edges. Imogen stood near one of the long tables, feeling tired. She needed a breather. This shit was wearing.
Talia approached with two glasses in hand: her smile smooth, distant. ‘Thought you might need this,’ she said, handing one over.
Imogen took it. Their fingers brushed briefly. Though it wasn’t the first time they’d touched hands today, it made Imogen’s arse clench every time.
But she wasn’t supposed to be clenched. She was supposed to be comfortable going skin-to-skin with Talia Knox, so she smiled quickly. ‘You know me so well,’ Imogen said, in case of rogue ears.
They stood together, angled just slightly away from the rest of the party. It would look right, Imogen thought. From a distance.
‘So,’ Talia said after a sip, ‘how’s the whole… charming-the-firm thing going?’
‘You tell me,’ Imogen replied.
Talia threw her one quick, real look. ‘I’m not unhappy,’ she said.
Imogen thought that was pretty close to a compliment coming from Talia. She was about to respond when her eyes caught the label on a nearby bottle set beside a plate of sugared almonds. She stilled.
The wine was a deep gold; the bottle stamped with a silver-inked heron. She knew that label. Too well.
