Those Summer Nights

Mandy Baggot

Description

Sunshine, soft white sand and a sizzling hot millionaire – you don’t get trouble in paradise, right?

Imogen Charlton is sorted. Dead-beat husband? History. Dream job? Application sent. But then her impulsive brother, Harry, spends every last penny on a Greek restaurant in Corfu, and is determined to run it himself. It’s up to Imogen to bring him to his senses.

When sexy millionaire Panos Dimitriou offers to buy back his family taverna, Imogen wonders if all her prayers have been answered (and all her fantasies are about to come true). But Harry won’t budge, and his enthusiasm is infectious.

As the sparks of passion fly between Imogen and Panos, is Imogen having second thoughts on selling the restaurant? And will she have to choose between love and a new dream?

Originally published in 2016

Sujets

• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Billionaires
• Siblings
• Women
• Corfú
• Contemporary history
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Billionaire
• Sibling
• Corfu
• Woman
• The Women
• Summer
• Holiday
• Contemporary
• International
• Greece
• Family Life
• Romance
• Corfou
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 27 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785139512
• Langue: English

Extrait

THOSE SUMMER NIGHTS


MANDY BAGGOT
To the G.A., with all my love, the G.N.
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Epilogue


Letter From Mandy

More from Mandy Baggot

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1
SOUTHAMPTON, ENGLAND

‘I’ve bought something.’
Imogen Charlton’s breath caught in her throat, and her hand, under strain from a Gut Buster Breakfast Special, started to tilt forward. Baked beans swam their way to the edge of the plate. Her brother Harry’s statement had the café noises fading away. Local radio playing the latest from Olly Murs, banter from the truckers, fierce sizzling from the griddle in the kitchen and Old Joe’s bronchial cough – it all slipped into the distance as her brain caught up with the three-word sentence.
Steadying the plate, she looked her brother in the eye. It was a bloody boat. She knew it. A speed boat. Some hideously expensive Sunseeker he’d got for a bargain price from someone at the pub. She scrutinised him closer, wondering if she stared hard enough she might be able to see details of the purchase written on his face. How much money he’d thrown away. How many horsepower and what colour – the listing on eBay when it was confirmed a dud and not good for anything but parts.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?’ Harry asked in a sing-song tone.
Imogen came to, looking at the plate of sausage, bacon, egg and those watery beans on a slide. She tightened her grip on the china and brushed past Harry, heading for table five. Harry was hot on her heels like an eager, untrained puppy. If he started to pant they really were in trouble. Panting had happened before, just prior to him telling her he had bought a trailer tent.
‘Here we are, Brian, sorry about the delay.’ Imogen slid the plate onto the Formica table near the window in front of their resident hairy biker.
‘Out of Daddies here, darlin’.’ Brian held up the empty bottle of brown sauce.
Imogen smiled at her customer. ‘Can’t have a fry-up without Daddies. I’ll be right back.’ She about-turned, pushing stray strands of her blonde hair back into place and heading off to the kitchen.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry’s smile drop. ‘Why do I get the distinct impression I’m being ignored?’ he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and looking affronted.
Imogen turned back to him, feeling bad. The sparkle in Harry’s blue eyes was fading, his floppy blond hair slightly losing its bounce. She wiped her hands down the front of her apron and forced an upbeat look. She was betting, if it wasn’t a boat, it was something in bulk. She still had a hundred bottles of antifreeze ‘capable of thawing Antarctica’ in her garage.
Harry’s smile was back and Imogen braced herself. Not a boat. Not a boat .
‘I’ve bought a restaurant.’
Be a boat. Be a boat . Her first urge was to thump Harry squarely in the chest to stop him saying anything else. He couldn’t be serious. It would be something else. A joke. Or maybe it was Lego. Yes, wasn’t he constructing something serious with Tristan? They’d done the Millennium Falcon and everything in between. Now maybe it was time for a building-brick Harvester.
‘Lovely,’ she said, swiping up two finished mugs from table two. ‘How many hours is that going to take to complete?’
Harry blew out a breath, his arms folding behind his head, hands on the back of his skull. ‘Wow, I don’t know.’ His abdomen expanded as he bent his torso back. ‘I mean, you can’t tell everything that’s involved from the pictures.’
Imogen nodded. ‘And the instructions are always pretty useless too.’
She watched Harry’s brow furrow. ‘Well, I have had a couple of really detailed emails.’
‘From Lego?’
‘What?’ Harry laughed.
Imogen grabbed a bottle of Daddies sauce from table two and held it tight in both hands. It wasn’t Lego. He’d said the word ‘restaurant’ and he really meant ‘restaurant’.
‘Like this place?’ Imogen asked, waving the sauce bottle to highlight the tables and chairs and people eating their way to heart disease.
‘Oh no,’ Harry said, shaking his head. ‘Not like this place.’
What did that mean? She didn’t know what to say next. Brian’s waving became frenzied and Imogen rushed over to table five and handed over the sauce with a quick apology.
Coming back she took Harry by his plaid shirt-covered arm and tugged him over to the serving hatch where more orders were waiting for her. The scent of deep-frying wafted through the opening as she pulled a white slip off the door.
‘Harry,’ she begged. ‘The other week you said you were thinking of starting a local club for fans of Castle .’
‘I might still do that.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Maybe in the winter.’
Imogen shook her head. ‘You can’t have bought a restaurant.’
‘Why not?’ Harry asked, folding his arms across his chest again and looking close to defiant.
‘Because when people go down the pub they go for a drink… maybe a packet of crisps, or pork scratchings on a particularly rough day. And if they buy something from a dodgy bloke in a hoody it’s pirate DVDs or miracle anti-ageing face cream that turns out to be relabelled Swarfega.’
‘Who said I bought it down the pub?’
‘Harry, tell me what you’ve done,’ Imogen ordered, picking up two plates of scrambled eggs.
‘I have told you.’ Harry grinned again. ‘I’ve bought a restaurant.’
This was bad. He sounded genuinely serious. How could that be? She’d only spoken to him two days ago. They’d visited their mum, Grace. Imogen had brought two Jill Mansell books and the latest copy of Bella and Harry had brought pickled onion Monster Munch and ate them all himself. She knew, in between their mum’s talk about the weather – too hot one day, too cold the next – there had been no indication Harry was about to purchase a catering business.
Imogen deposited the scrambled eggs on table six and headed back to the hatch for the accompanying drinks.
‘Tell me it’s another sandwich van.’
Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Why would I want another sandwich van? Sandwiches are old school now.’
Shit . ‘Why would you want a restaurant?’ she responded, moving forward, stepping over Mrs Green’s bag of knitting in the walkway.
‘Because I need another job, Immy and…’ Harry began, following her.
Imogen looked over her shoulder at him as she delivered the coffees. He’d got Mrs Green’s pale lemon three-ply wool stuck in the Velcro straps of his trainers.
‘And…’ Harry started again.
‘Harry, just stop walking!’ She’d raised her voice just as the radio went quiet and forced a smile. ‘Please, just stop before you become part of a matinee jacket for Baby George/Georgina.’
Harry glanced down at his feet and the wool caught up in his shoes. ‘Oh dear. Sorry,’ he said, bending down to unravel himself.
‘Harry, don’t. Just…’ Imogen sighed. ‘I’m really busy. Just spit it out. Tell me about this restaurant in very short sentences.’
Harry stood up, a grin back on his face. ‘I’ve bought it.’
Imogen kept quiet, hoping she could sort this out, help him go back on the deal.
‘And I want you to run it with me.’
Double shit .
‘And you’re going to love this part the best!’
She felt sick.
‘It’s in Corfu! In Greece!’
Fuck . She was officially screwed.
2
SOUTHAMPTON, ENGLAND

‘It’s got so much space. There’s a separate function room out the back and a large flat above. It’s right on the beach. I mean, the view is to die for and in the summer it’s going to be packed with holidaymakers. It’s perfect.’ Harry grinned before shovelling in another mouthful of chips. ‘And it’s Corfu! It’s where Janie and I had our first foreign holiday together and three more after that before the children arrived. I can still smell those lemons on the trees and taste the ouzo.’
Harry had come back after the lunch rush and Imogen was huddled over a tuna jacket potato she had no intention of eating, looking at the restaurant details. The price said ninety-nine thousand euros and underneath was the word ‘Acharavi’ – presumably the place in Corfu this disaster was situated. The building looked far from her definition of perfect. With its roof resembling a pile of tiles a three-year-old had scattered randomly, smashed front windows and graffiti in the Greek alphabet on the outside walls, it looked like something from a warzone, not this appealing summer bistro Harry was describing. There was only one explanation. He was manic. He had to be suffering again and she had missed the signs. She needed to get him to his doctor. Depression was a heavy beast and, when things were at their worst, the whole family had gone through it with him. And he was talking about Janie as if everything was fine. He had never accepted the separation and Imogen wasn’t sure what their current position was.
‘Harry,’ Imogen said softly. ‘You haven’t paid any money out yet, have you?’
He laughed then, eyes shining like a happy Minion. ‘Of course I have. The deal’s done. I’ve been working on this for weeks.’
Had she really taken her eye so far off the b