Page 36 of Craving Her Christmas Boss

She took a deep breath. Waited ages for the beep—before realising the beep had already sounded and she was leaving a stalker silence and heavy breathing for him.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ryan. It’s Imogen. I didn’t hear the beep. Um…’ She cringed, breathed, ploughed on. ‘I missed you today. I didn’t get to say goodbye. But I got your card. And your… The heart. Ryan, I wish I could talk to you. I wish I could see you.’ She was whispering now. ‘I wanted to explain. You’ve always said this is simple, Ryan, and I’ve always said it isn’t. But that’s because I’m scared. It’s hard admitting that, when you’re so sure and confident in everything. I’m not sure about where this is going, and whether you really want what I want. But I went about it wrong and I pushed you away, and now you’re gone, and the stupid thing is it’s too late for me anyway. Because I do… I really have… Fallen in lo—’

The beep was harsh, followed by another series of beeps signalling disconnection.

Imogen screwed up her face. Doubt and a sense of futility mounted. He’d probably forgotten her already. Worse, he might call her back and try to let it down gently—admitting that all he had wanted was a brief affair.

And then all her emotion erupted—hot rivers of rage and mortification and despair engulfed her. Long before she could think, she threw the phone over the railing.

It sank into the Water of Leith below.

TEN

‘Imogen, we needto have a meeting.’

Imogen looked up from where she’d been staring blankly at a computer screen. She wasn’t quite crying into her coffee, but she wasn’t far off.

‘Now?’

‘Yes. Let’s go downstairs.’

Into the shop? Unable to muster the energy even to ask why, Imogen just stood and followed Shona. It was only when they went right to the basement and into the exclusive beauty salon there that she gave her manager a questioning look.

‘It’s a tradition of mine every Christmas Eve,’ Shona said. ‘I see no reason to change it.’ She turned to the beautician. ‘You have our appointments?’

‘But Shona—’

Shona winked and followed the beautician to the big comfortable chairs behind the gleaming tables. ‘Half an hour away isn’t going to sink the books, Imogen. We’ve both been working very hard. I’ll settle it with Ryan if there is any problem. But I’m sure there won’t be.’

Imogen sat and studied her nails. It was the first time his name had come up between them since the day Shona had given her his card, and she still wasn’t about to talk. Instead she gave herself over to the luxury of being pampered. Given how busy the instore salon was at the best of times, Shona must’ve booked this months ago to get them in today.

Twenty minutes later, as she watched the beautician put on polish with skilled, short strokes, she accepted the inevitable. She was going to have to leave. Everywhere she looked, just being in the store, she thought of him. And, as heart-breaking as the thought of leaving was, the thought of staying was devastating.

‘What colour did you go with?’ Shona asked from where she was seated at the table behind hers.

‘Christmas red.’ Actually, it was more like hussy red, but Imogen liked it and had decided to wear it on the outside for once—not just underneath. She had the jade shirt on—could pretend it was Christmas green. All she needed now was some light up novelty earrings and, hey presto, seasons greetings. If only she could jolly up her insides just as easily.

Hours later, some soprano was trilling her way through ‘All I want for Christmas’, and there was an infinite queue of people wanting their last-minute presents wrapped. Imogen worked fast, glad of the business that kept her mind and body occupied. She didn’t want the evening to end—didn’t want the store to close. Because then she’d have to go home and face the reality of a lonely Christmas. So she kept her head down, folding paper and pulling ribbon, smiling hard as she handed each present over to each excited shopper.

Less than an hour to go and she was hot—and her happy day façade was starting to disintegrate.

‘Excuse me, please.’

She jumped, eyes up, instantly alert. Had she just heard—?

Ryan?

She watched as he pushed his way to the front of the queue.

Weird how the music seemed to fade out and everyone around her seemed to stop still. Even Kristin, one of the not spotty students, stopped wrapping and stood staring—as did her customer.

Only Ryan could have such an impact on the world. And Ryan looking like this was of course impossible to ignore.

She’d never seen him look so scruffy. Black jeans, a crumpled black tee shirt, rumpled hair. So damn gorgeous. So damn dangerous.

Because he made her heart stop. Then it slammed in her chest. She shuddered with the thud of it. Gripped the scissors as though determined to take them to the grave with her.

‘Did you mean it?’ He sounded as if he hadn’t spoken in days, or maybe as if he had done nothing but for months—his voice was worn out and raspy. ‘Did you mean what you said?’

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