Campaign.
Yet in the past two days he had more than once, more than twice, more than … too many times … found himself looking for Imogen or noticing her when there’d been no need to. Caught by the turn of her head or a waft of her delicate flowery perfume.
Exasperation surfaced again and he quelled it. Just because her appearance had somehow got under his guard it didn’t mean there was a problem. He knew all too well the associated perils of letting personal issues into the boardroom. That was what his father had done and the result had been a spiral of disaster—a mess bequeathed to Joe to sort out.
So there was no problem. All he had to do was recall the grim horror of working out that his family firm was bankrupt and corrupt. Remember the faces of the people he’d been forced to let go, the clients whose money had been embezzled.
Enough. The lesson was learnt.
His computer pinged to indicate the arrival of an email; one glance at the screen and he groaned. Another email from Leila. Every instinct jumped up and down—he was no expert on the intricacies of relationships, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t normal for an ex to suddenly surface after seven years, invite him to her wedding and then email him regularly to give him advice he hadn’t asked for.
Resisting the urge to thump his head on the desk, he looked up as the door rebounded off its hinges and Imogen entered.
No. She didn’t enter. It was more of a storm … A vivid red tornado of gorgeous anger headed straight towards him and slammed her palms down on the glass desk-top.
‘Something wrong?’ Joe asked, trying and failing to ignore the sleek curtain of hair that fell straight and true round her face and down past her shoulders to the plunging V of her dress. Surely there was more V than material?
Continuing his look downward, he took in the cinchedin waist and the flouncy skirt that hit a good few centimetres above the knee. Her legs were endless, long and toned, and ended in a pair of sparkly peep-toe sandals.
Stop looking. Before you have a coronary.
He tugged his gaze upward to meet a fulminating pair of grey-blue eyes.
‘Yes, there is something wrong.’
Her breath came in pants and Joe clenched his jaw, nearly crossing his eyes in an attempt to remain focused on her face.
‘I know I shouldn’t say anything. I know I shouldn’t put my job on the line. But I’ve just come from seeing Harry and Peter in the hospital and they told me that you’ve got rid of Maisey in Accounts and Lucas in Admin. How could you? It’s wrong.’
The fury vibrating in her voice touched a chord in him, aroused an answering anger to accompany the frustration and self-annoyance already brewing in his gut.
‘No, Imogen, it isn’t wrong. It’s unfortunate. Streamlining Langley is the only way for the company to survive. I’d rather a few people suffer than the whole company collapse.’
She huffed out air and shook her head, black hair shimmering. ‘But don’t you care?’ she asked. ‘It’s like these people are just numbers to you.’
The near distaste in her eyes made affront claw down his chest. ‘I do my very best to minimise the number of people I let go and I certainly don’t take any pleasure in it.’
She stood back from the desk and slammed her hands on her hips. ‘You don’t seem to feel any pain either.’
Her words made him pause; sudden discomfort jabbed his nerves. It was an unease he dismissed; feeling pain sucked, and it didn’t change a damn thing. This he knew. Hell, he had the whole wardrobe to prove it. So if he’d hardened himself it was a good thing—a business decision that made him better at his job.
Aware of curiosity dancing with anger across Imogen’s delicate features, he shrugged. ‘Me sitting around crying into my coffee isn’t going to enable me to make sensible executive decisions. I can’t let sentiment interfere with my job.’
‘But what if your executive choices hurt someone else?’
‘I don’t make choices to hurt people.’
‘That doesn’t mean they don’t get hurt. Look at Graham. I happen to know he has a large mortgage, his wife is pregnant, and now you’ve made the choice to snatch his job from under his feet. Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘No.’ To his further exasperation he appeared to be speaking through clenched teeth. ‘The bottom line is I do the best for the company as whole. Overall, people benefit.’
‘Have you ever watched Star Trek?’
Star Trek? Joe blinked. ‘Yes, I have. My sisters are avid fans.’ Repeats of the show had been a godsend in the devastating months after their parents’ death; Tammy and Holly had spent hours glued to the screen. Blocking out impossible reality with impossible fiction.
‘Joe? Are you listening to me?’
‘For now. But only because I am fascinated to see what pointy-eared aliens and transporters have to do with anything?’
‘You know how it works—they say they believe in sacrificing the few for the many. But they don’t really mean it—somehow in real life they end up knowing that it’s wrong and they go back to rescue one person, risking everyone, and everything is OK.’
Was she for real? ‘The fatal flaw in your reasoning is right there. Star Trek isn’t real life. It’s fiction.’
‘I get that—but the principle is sound.’
‘No. The principle sucks. If you run around trying to please everyone, refusing to make tough choices, then I can tell you exactly what happens. Everyone suffers.’ He’d got another wardrobe to prove that. ‘In real life Kirk would go down, and so would the Enterprise.’
‘That is so …’
‘Realistic?’
‘Cynical,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t understand why you can’t see reason. The main reason Langley is in difficulties is because of Harry’s ill health. He’s the one who understands finance. Peter doesn’t. Once Harry’s on his feet everything will go back to normal. Surely you should be taking that into consideration? Trying to think of some way to salvage everyone’s jobs.’
The jut of her chin, the flash of her eyes indicated how serious she was, and although he had no doubt his decisions were correct, it occurred to him that it was a long, long time since anyone had questioned him, let alone locked phasers with him. Apart from his sisters, anyway …
It was kind of … exhilarating.
Even more worrying, his chest had warmed with admiration: Imogen was speaking out for others with a passion that made him think of a completely different type of passion. His fingers itched with the desire to bury themselves in the gloss of her dark hair and angle her face so that he could kiss her into his way of thinking.
For the love of Mike … This was so off the business plan he might as well file for bankruptcy right now.
Curving his fingers firmly round the edge of his desk, he adhered his feet to the plush carpet and forced calm to his vocal cords. ‘My job is to make sure that Harry has a viable company to come back to. I am not out to destroy Langley. That’s not how I operate.’
‘That’s not what your reputation says.’
Disbelief clouded her blue eyes with grey and the disdain in her expression caused renewed affront to band round his chest.
‘Imogen, there are some companies that even I can’t salvage. But if you study my track record you will see that most of the companies I go to sort out get sorted out. Not shut down. My reputation is that I’m tough. I’ll make the unpopular decisions no one wants to make because they let sentiment and friendship cloud their perspective. I