The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights

by Sarah Lefebve

  “Cool.” Nick’s grin widened at the approach of the flight attendant, smiling pinkly.

  “Sit down, please – um, sir.”

  The seatbelt lights pinged off, but Nick was bored now. He made a move to go back to his seat. “Catch you later,” he said loudly, drowning out the disembodied voice of the co-pilot regaling passengers with details of the cruising height and the ground temperature in Boston.

  Towards the end of the flight Alex looked down at Maggie. She’d fallen asleep. Her head had dropped onto his shoulder, but he hadn’t dared wake her.

  Where had the Maggie who wore bright colors gone? She’d been replaced by a sophisticated looking interloper. Alex gritted his teeth, trapped in his seat by a gently snoring Maggie.

  Ten years ago she had made a big crack in the armor he wore like a theatrical mask. He’d chosen LA over following his heart. He’d blocked out everything he loved about London when he’d given up on his dream. That included Maggie.

  He looked at her face, her long lashes. Her wavy hair had escaped from its ponytail. It brushed softly against his cheek. She smelt delicious. Every time he inhaled, her wild-flower-meadow fragrance floated up his nose. Her mouth was full. In a good way. Not an LA trout pout. Her skin glowed.

  Awkward!

  He couldn’t help thinking about the last time she’d slept right next to him. She belonged to a time and place pre-TV. Before things had changed completely. He’d lived and breathed Mercy of the Vampires for ten years – and loved every minute of it. But ten years was enough. When he’d pulled the plug on the show, Nick had been incandescent. He still hadn’t got over it. Too bad. Alex intended to move on, lead his own life – not a default version of his brother’s.

  Nick had been depending on him since the miserable night Drake had left their mother twenty-four years ago. Older by just twelve minutes, Alex had gradually become more like a substitute dad to his twin. They’d been alone watching a cartoon while his parents argued, shouting at the top of their lungs. Alex had protected Nick, getting him to stick his fingers in his ears, until he could find the remote and turn the volume up full. He’d drowned out the frightening sound of his parents’ anger. He’d been putting Nick first ever since.

  Maggie shifted in her sleep. She still rated ten out of ten on his hot-ometer. He’d happily pick up right where they’d left off. It would make the next couple of days a lot more interesting.

  Being near her was like breathing fresh air. It had to be down to her impossible-to-ignore curves. The gentle rise and fall of her breasts drove him crazy. This close, and at this angle, he had an attractive view of her cleavage. Her black top gaped slightly and he caught an unintentional glimpse of deep-pink shimmering silk. Lovely. Who’d have thought that the new understated Maggie would be wearing pulse-raising underwear in a magenta shade that matched her name?

  With his free arm he stretched down and picked up Maggie’s in-flight blanket, which had slipped into a scrunched-up ball between their feet. Awkwardly, he tried to cover her without disturbing her.

  He dragged his eyes back to her face. She had freckles, as if someone had dipped a paintbrush in caramel and flicked it across the bridge of her nose. He didn’t remember that about Maggie. A stab of shame lanced him. He didn’t remember because he’d blanked her out.

  The cabin crew announcement ping sounded. “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has started our descent into Boston Logan International Airport, please fasten your seatbelts, make sure your seats and tray tables are in the upright position and switch off any electronic equipment.”

  The saccharin voice shook Maggie out of her sleep. Her creamy skin turned pink. Alex watched the blush travel up her neck from the dip of her top.

  Sexy.

  “I nodded off.”

  “Am I that boring?”

  Her lips curved teasingly. “Yes, very.” Her hazel eyes shone. She removed the elastic holding what was left of her ponytail and shook loose her hair. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.” He deliberately held back a smile. “It was just like old times – apart from the snoring.”

  “Flipping Nora. I didn’t, did I?” Maggie sat up straight and clicked on her seatbelt. “Alex Wells. I do not snore, and you know it.”

  “I only have limited experience of your sleeping habits, Maggie.” Exactly that kind of meaningless banter had landed them in bed together once before.

  Maggie’s mysterious eyes shot him down. For the first time in several hours she didn’t have the perfect reply on the tip of her tongue.

  He’d better snap out of it. He weighed up the possibilities. Temptress Maggie? Professional Maggie?

  Face it, Wells. She’s way off limits.

  Flirting with her was a mistake. He’d been bored. It was what he did. Playing on the vampire thing. Still, he shouldn’t have gone there with Maggie.

  He’d better come up with an action plan. He quickly formulated a strategy, of sorts.

  Be civil.

  Put up with wearing tweed.

  No flirting – definitely no flirting.

  Wish her luck and wave goodbye.

  5? There was no number 5. Four points should cover it.

  What would he do if he’d never met stylist Magenta Plumtree before? Truthfully? He’d be tempted to explore her possibilities. She’d be just the thing to take his mind off Nick and the promo treadmill.

  “I’ve got a driver waiting at the airport. Can I offer you a ride to the hotel?”

  Her freckly nose wrinkled. “Oh … no … Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll get a taxi.” She waved a neatly manicured hand dismissively. The new Magenta had a neutral image. The peculiar-shade-of-blue nails, and the enticing underwear, reminded him of sparkly Maggie. The rest of her sophisticated appearance – all designer black and grey – slapped him in the face like a cold kipper; a reminder, although he didn’t need one, that time had changed everything.

  “Don’t argue, Maggie. Just say yes.”

  Chapter Three

  I. Am. Actually. With. Him.

  Alex took control at the airport. He heaved Maggie’s bags off the carousel. “Good grief. You’ve got a lot of baggage.” She really did. Literally – because she’d brought things with her for the shoot. And figuratively. She trembled inside, wondering if her procedure at the clinic had worked, and if today would be too soon to test.

  He queued with her in the passport check lines, placing a hand in the small of her back and ushering her forward in a way that made her feel like she wasn’t just with him by accident. The pressure of his hand meant more than it should. He’d branded her with his delicious heat.

  Turning heads every step they took, he towered over Maggie. His stop-you-in-your-tracks eyes were masked with dark sunglasses, but people recognized him anyway; and even if they didn’t they still looked. Recognition didn’t fizz on Alex. But awkwardness prickled through Maggie. She noted the stares, the admiring glances, the nudgings and finger pointings. Not to mention the phone-photo moments.

  In the arrivals hall a young woman thrust a camera into Maggie’s hands. She and her mother draped themselves either side of a stony-faced Alex.

  “Take a photo! Would you mind?”

  Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Do you mind?”

  “Be my guest.” He hooked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his jacket and looked into the camera, suppressing a scintilla of a smile. It was the look he was famous for. The fans expected it. Maggie’s legs turned to jelly. She took the picture and handed the camera back.

  “Thank you so much,” the women chorused. “You’ve made our day.” They raced off, dragging their cases with nippy little wheels behind them, ready to waylay Nick and repeat the photo opportunity.

  Through the flurry of attention Alex located his driver and whisked Maggie out of the airport. He held the car door for her while the driver dealt with the bags.

  “Nick and I have different drivers. In theory we attract less attention that way.”


  “If all the drooling damsels and general purpose nut-jobs back there are anything to go by, different cars isn’t going to do it. What you guys need is separate planets!”

  Lips set in an unflinching line, a muscle twitched in his cheek. “We’re working on it.”

  His body brushed hers when he slid into the car. Being around Alex over the next few days would be so much easier to cope with if he came with a button and an instruction manual telling her how to turn his infernal sex appeal off.

  She couldn’t afford to indulge in swoony fan moments. She had a job to do. This Boston shoot was nothing more than a slot blocked off in her diary. Styling Alex would be easy. He’d rock any look she threw at him.

  Maggie tugged at her seatbelt. It had jammed. She tugged again.

  “Need a hand?” Alex leaned across. Mmm… Spiced man. His unshaven jawline was so close she wondered how it would feel against her skin. Any more of these moments, or – heaven forbid – incidents like the one on the plane and she would melt like microwaved chocolate. She needed to come up with a self-preservation plan, something to keep her one step ahead of Hot Vampire Guy.

  One deft movement unjammed the seatbelt and he passed it into her hands, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. There was a knowing quirk of an almost-smile on his lips when he pulled back and settled into his half of the back seat to snap on his own seatbelt.

  Her heart fluttered, hormones sky-high. If she could roll back time she’d make sure her one not-so-stellar night with television’s dreamiest man played out very differently. That Christmas, before Alex went off and got famous, Layla had teased her about her missed opportunity and bought her a pack of fluorescent, glow-in-the-dark condoms to keep handy just in case she ever got so lucky again. She didn’t. She’d been wearing blinkers when she met Marcus, moved in with him, started making long-term plans. What a mistake. The words “man” and “plan” might rhyme, but they were otherwise utterly incompatible.

  The car pulled away from the terminal. Boston didn’t look very welcoming. A misty rain was falling, wrapping the whole place in gloom; the streets, the sea, the sky and everything in between looked grey.

  Now that he wasn’t being scrutinized by any members of the public, a flirty smile lit up Alex’s features. His much-too-blue eyes twinkled, the corners creased.

  “When do you start ripping my clothes off, Maggie? Tomorrow, is it?”

  His deep voice did things to her that a girl in the back of a chauffeur-driven car should be ashamed of. How in heaven’s name was she going to get through the next few days if she couldn’t get her berserk hormones under control? She fidgeted, smoothing the grey fabric of her skirt under her palms. To stop herself, she locked her hands, as if she was praying, only to end up rubbing one thumb over the blue varnish on the other as if doing so might erase the color.

  “The day after,” she replied primly. “And the general idea is to get you in clothes, not out of them. If it was a naked photo shoot you’d hardly need a fashion stylist.”

  Alex laughed. He ploughed the fingers of one big hand into his jet-black hair. There was silence and then he hit her with a bombshell. “For the record, I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

  She gulped. Her throat felt tight as if she’d tried to swallow a peach stone. “Oh, it’s no biggie.” She whooshed a hand through the air, as if sweeping his words away. Her heart thudded as if it had been surgically removed and replaced with a piece of rock. She wanted to kick herself. Not a biggie? Of course it was a biggie. It was the biggest biggie of all time. She’d been crushed.

  “I should have called,” he insisted.

  “I really truly didn’t expect you to.” She babbled out the brush-off. “I mean, I rang your mobile a couple of times.” Six – at least. “You had things to do.” She’d got voice mail and hadn’t known what to say. When she’d tried him that final time, Nick had answered Alex’s phone. She’d told him to give Alex her love and wish him luck. He’d promised he would.

  A shiver ran through her as though someone was trailing icy fingers along her spine. When he hadn’t called back, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Her grandmother had warned her to keep her expectations of the male species extra low. It was safer than having shattered hopes. She hadn’t believed her. She’d gone into the adult world with an open heart. And she’d been hurt. Twice.

  Although she was controlled on the surface, her mind was paddling like a duck’s feet underneath. She’d thought she and Alex shared something special. They almost had. Only he’d kept his feelings locked away. Maybe allowing her to get that close had been a step too far. He’d always been out of reach.

  After the holidays everyone was buzzing with the news that he’d dropped out to make Mercy of the Vampires. At the time she’d ached, knowing that he wasn’t coming back to London. The disappointment had been excruciating, but she’d clung on to a thread of consolation. He hadn’t just dropped her. He’d dropped his entire life.

  “It’s ancient history.” She gave a nonchalant shrug and a bright smile. She’d had an airy- fairy notion that, in spite of her grandma’s professed wisdom on the non-existence of soul mates, she might prove her wrong. She and Alex simply weren’t meant to be.

  Then along came Marcus and she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her. She’d come back a day early from working away, turned the key in the lock, and walked into her home to discover her fiancé getting down and dirty with someone he’d picked up at the pub. She wasn’t even that attractive and she was at least ten years older than Maggie. Maybe twelve. The gut-wrenching shock had turned her cold.

  “Anyway, I called you, remember? You were busy and Nick answered. I told him to wish you all the luck in the world, and … well, anyway … c’est la vie, as they say.”

  One hand on his perfectly hewn-in-granite chin, an inscrutable shadow darkened his gaze.

  “I apologize,” he rumbled. “It was inconsiderate.”

  “It’s okay.”

  She’d been miserable. She’d felt cut off and abandoned, but she’d understood. Like she’d understood why her dad had left her mum pregnant, and why her mum had left for Spain without her when she was only eight years old. Understanding why people left each other behind was what she did. It was practically a talent. And one that had come in handy when she’d walked away from Marcus. Bouncing back from the heartache was another matter, but she’d become quite good at that too. She’d dreamed up a foolproof method for guaranteeing that she’d never have to bounce back again.

  The car sped towards downtown Boston. She turned away, feigning interest in the grey city they’d landed in, all the while scraping at one nail with another so that some of the blue peeled away revealing a pale streak. It was high time they put this clearing the air of Alex’s behind them. She decided to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

  “I gather Mercy of the Vampires is going out with a bang.”

  “About time too. The show has been running my life for a decade.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve caught episodes in hotels all over place. I’ve watched Jarvis and Jago wreak havoc in German, French, Italian, and Spanish.”

  “You’re a fan of the show?”

  “It’s kind of impossible to avoid it, frankly.”

  “Well, it all ends in hellfire just before Christmas, you’ll be glad to know.” Maggie refused to let herself look at him. She kept on staring out of the car window.

  “Rumor has it you go out in the sunlight with a string of garlic wrapped around your neck and Nick, I mean Jarvis, strangles you and then rams a stake through your heart, just to be sure he’s finished you off.”

  “It could happen,” he joked. “And I don’t mean in the TV world. Nick’s not best pleased with me at the moment. In fact, that’s an understatement. He’s furious. We’ve got a day of back-to-back promo here in Boston tomorrow. And the same again in New York next week. If he can find a string of garlic that’s long enough, I think he’d happily throttle me.”

&nb
sp; Maggie knew she’d detected an atmosphere between the brothers. “Best strike Paris off your promo tour list. They use a lot of garlic there.”

  “Nick had better watch it. It might turn out that Jago’s the one who can’t be trusted with a string of garlic.”

  The deep rumble of his laugh gave her tingles. When she’d agree to style Alex and Nick, she’d been fascinated, and a smidge nostalgic. Part of her had wanted to prove that he was just someone she used to know. Only he was turning out to be a whole heap of fantasticness more than that, and she wasn’t at all sure how to deal with that.

  Play. It. Cool.

  She splayed her fingers and looked at her hands. She’d paint her nails sunshine yellow next.

  Alex steeled himself the minute the car pulled up in front of the hotel. The driver opened the car door and he stepped out, throwing a quick glance about to see if Nick had arrived yet. Knowing him, he’d probably taken a spur-of-the-moment detour. Loyalty to his family came first, but the conversation he’d just had tugged at the frayed edges of his stoicism. He’d gone to LA for Nick, put his own life on hold, and forgotten all about Maggie. Something inside him sparked the moment she stepped onto the plane. She was lovely – with hints of the bubbly, colorful girl who stood out from the crowd he used to know. She’d changed, though. He couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but she’d become sort of buttoned-up.

  He automatically glued on his sunglasses, despite a heavy sky and grey pavements slick with rain. He summoned a bellhop to take care of the luggage and stood back to play the gentleman, guiding Maggie into the all-mirrors-and-marble lobby with his palm placed protectively in the curve at the base of her spine. Despite the long flight he crackled with energy at her scent of wild flowers. A wicked knot tightened his gut. It would be tempting to see if he could unbutton her, prove that he could have the exact opposite of the soporific effect he’d had on her ten years ago.

  The hotel was old and elegant with a smooth, marble floor, a grand carpeted staircase, and a glittering chandelier, which cast a welcoming glow over the lobby, where a clutch of smart Japanese tourists had gathered on bygone chic sofas and chairs, chatting animatedly over their cameras and shopping bags.