The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights

by Sarah Lefebve

  “I’m going to have to kiss you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Um – no. Where did that come from? “I’m not your leading lady,” she joked.

  “Oh yes you are.” Now that the photos were done he was smiling his big relaxed smile as if he’d reserved it for her and her alone. “Thanks for your message.”

  What message? “Oh, I see.” She got where he was coming from. He’d put the clock back. He was talking about the message she’d left with Nick ten years ago wishing him luck and love. “You can’t turn back time.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  He tightened his arms around her and her bones dissolved. There was no way they could close the gap, but she went with the flow. Her hands flew up and linked about his neck pulling his head down until his lips met hers in a perfect kiss. Awed by the strength of his body holding hers and the sweet magic of his mouth, Maggie’s heart soared and a flame of longing uncurled inside her. She tangled her fingers in his hair, loving the soft warmth of his clean-shaven jaw against her skin, exploring his soft mouth, craving with each moment just a little bit more heat. Tasting, touching, taking their time, they lost themselves in each other’s spell.

  Slowly, oh so languorously, they broke from the kiss.

  Still reeling from Alex’s heat, Maggie shivered incongruously. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. “Here,” he said. “You wear this.” She shrugged her arms into the sleeves, luxuriating in the leather, imbued with Alex’s warmth.

  Kisses like that are all in a day’s work for Alex! He was an actor, for heaven’s sake. He could produce kisses to order like he could weep buckets on cue, or do his own stunt work.

  Back inside the temporary base at the cottage, after their blast across the beach, a reality check kicked in. He was a temporary fixture in her work life. Still, she couldn’t wait to see Layla’s face when she told her all about Hot Vampire Guy on a Harley. On second thoughts, maybe she’d keep it to herself. It had been a moment when she’d taken leave of her senses. Why in the world had she kissed him? So much for figuring that she and Alex could be just friends again. That was a giant fail. What was she playing at? One thing was certain. He might be too sexy to resist but she’d fallen for him once before and she wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon. Scratch that. She wouldn’t be falling in love again – ever.

  No matter how great the chemistry, what they’d had before was gone. They had new lives.

  Maggie busied herself checking all the clothes. They were mainly press samples and she wanted to return them in good condition. She ignored Alex, tried to appear absorbed in her work, but it was obvious that he could tell she was avoiding him.

  His eyes burned the back of her neck. Uncomfortable. They’d agreed to wipe the slate clean. It should be easy. Only he’d gone and kissed her, and she’d kissed him back, and now she was all over the place.

  The atmosphere was dynamite. It was crystal clear to everyone that Alex and Nick weren't speaking. They had cooperated with each other during the shoot, just about. As soon it was over, a car had come to collect Nick and he’d left after a luvvy-fest of team hugs, but without a word of goodbye to Alex.

  Maggie sighed. Since she’d kissed Alex on the beach she’d been like a cat on a hot tin roof. He was a distraction she didn’t need right now. She wanted to know if her AI procedure had worked. A baby would make her life complete. The perfect man she could live without. A family of her own she could not.

  The day her mum ran off, she collected Maggie from school, gave her a big hug and a fancy art kit full of paints and pencils in every color under the sun, and left. Maggie drew pictures until it was time for tea, designing clothes that she thought her mum would like. Only teatime came and went and she didn’t come back. From age eight Maggie had lived with her grandmother. When she’d died the only strong branch on the family tree had gone.

  She hadn’t been able to bring herself to do the pregnancy test. She lacked the courage. Something was wrong here. She couldn’t face making this very personal discovery so far from home, and in the midst of a bunch of strangers.

  And Alex.

  This was a one-woman project. Maybe she should have kept it that way. The best thing would be to wait until she got back to London to do the test. Or better still, go to her cottage in Cornwall and do the test with Layla there for moral support. She’d prefer not to find out alone in a faceless hotel room.

  She was desperate to know, but she wasn’t ready to find out. It didn’t make any sense. She needed to relax. There’d be no harm in waiting a couple of days. She’d go on her whale-watch, then she’d fly home and find out if she was pregnant. She still had a feeling it was going to be a yes. Only the doctor at the clinic had advised her not to get her hopes up. She’d said it might take more than one attempt. It was something to do with sperm motility.

  “Frozen sperm get lazy.” Like a madwoman she whispered the words aloud to herself as she carefully folded a butter-soft leather biker jacket around some tissue paper.

  “Pardon?”

  “Oh my giddy aunt. Did I say that out loud?”

  “Yes. You did.” Alex’s eyes glittered. They reminded her of sun on snow under a blue sky. They had a charm all of their own. “It’s alright.” His tone was husky and mockingly conspiratorial. “I think I’m the only one that heard.”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking.” The clothes that the models had worn for the shoot were piled up around the place. Maggie folded and hung and organized methodically, ticking each item off on her check-list as she did so.

  “Does this mean you’re not?”

  “Good grief.” Maggie made no effort to hide the fact that she was rattled. Alex had made his feelings about her trying for a donor-sperm baby clear, but she’d thought they’d got past that. “It doesn’t mean anything of the sort. If you must know, I didn’t do the pregnancy test.”

  “Maggie? Don’t tell me you’re procrastinating!”

  “Of course not,” she lied, laughing as if it was some tiny insignificant detail, rather than the heart-swelling course of her future. “I’m just putting it off.”

  “Very funny.”

  She was out of sorts. Alex had no right to pry. Anybody would think it was his baby the way he kept going on about it.

  “Have dinner with me tonight? We can celebrate or commiserate – whichever.”

  “I’m not doing the test. I’m waiting until I get back to London.”

  “Have dinner with me.” His deep drawl gave her tingles and wore down her resistance. They could go back to Boston right now and never see each other again. She didn’t want that. On all sane levels she knew that kissing Alex had been a mistake. In theory. In reality? Oh. My. Gosh! That kiss was dreamy.

  She needed to focus. She wanted to say goodbye to Alex properly this time, and having dinner with him seemed like a good way to do that. Anyway, she didn’t fancy another meal on a tray in her room with one eye on her laptop.

  “Okay.” Heart-stopping kisses aside, styling the Wells twins had been amazing; and it wasn’t going to do her CV any harm.

  The more time she spent with Alex, the more Hot Vampire Guy and the friend she’d been close to merged into the same man. Her heart told her not to let that happen. Too late. It had happened. For years he’d vanished into thin air, replaced by an impostor who inhabited television screens and newspapers. She’d begun to see through that, and she liked what she saw. Dinner couldn’t hurt, but it was high time they stopped messing about. “We’d better lay down some ground rules.”

  “It’s dinner. Not a space mission.”

  She was determined to nail this friends thing. That’s where they’d started out a decade ago and that’s where she wanted them to finish. “I need to make something clear,” she insisted.

  “Shoot.” A lazy smile curved across his lips. Darn it. There’d been a sticking plaster on the crack in her heart from his half a seduction and desertion, but she’d been over him
for a very long time. She’d flirted with him, and it had been lovely. She might be star-struck and hormonal, but her heart was rock solid. She needed to set out some conditions, because so far her resolve to Alex-proof herself hadn’t really worked.

  “No cheesy lines and no dodgy vampire moves.” Alex laughed and his smile grew impossibly wider. “It’s not like it’s a date. Just friends?”

  “Cheese is off the menu,” he promised. “But I can’t make any promises on the vampire moves.” He quirked an eyebrow. “After ten years of Jago they’re part of my DNA.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m a cheap date, huh?”

  They were sitting in a wharf diner. Reflected light glowed on the dark water. Headlamps from planes landing at the airport punctuated the night sky.

  Ketchup, mustard, and a napkin dispenser sat neatly at the ready on the formica table.

  “You’re not a date. You’re … just Maggie.”

  “I’m not sure how to take that.” Her eyes were full of challenge.

  “Take it as a compliment.”

  He’d kissed her because he wanted to. He shouldn’t have. He thought he could find something he’d lost, recapture a feeling he couldn’t name. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

  “Right. Okay. I’ll do that.” She lifted the laminated menu card.

  “Were you expecting a swish restaurant?” He watched her face for a reaction. He’d been working on it, but it was impossible to forget that they’d very nearly been lovers. Their failed night together had left him wondering what if? He’d overstepped the mark. That kiss had smashed his no-action plan to smithereens.

  “Well, yes, I suppose I was.” She paused. “Only because of who you are now. Actually, I like this place. It’s very ‘old Alex’.” She smiled. Kissing her on the beach had fired up a chain reaction of attraction and temptation, flickering in his heart like the frames of an old celluloid cine film.

  “Whatever that means? There isn’t an ‘old’ me, or a ‘new’ me.” They only existed in her head, two versions of the same person. “Not unlike yourself.”

  “Meaning?” Her greeny-brown eyes glimmered.

  “The new Maggie’s very stylish.” Alex was treading on eggshells. “The old Maggie wore more color.”

  “I went off color,” she said sharply. “Neutral colors suit my work. They give me a professional look. I blend into the background and all my fashion focus goes on my clients.”

  “I get that it’s all about Brand Magenta, the only color is in the name. Surely you can relax on the dress code in your downtime?”

  “I could; I just choose not to.” Actually she had eased up a little, he realized. She’d put on a graphite t-shirt with an asymmetric neckline and a swirly butterfly print etched on it in a lighter shade of grey. “I stopped liking myself in color.”

  “I like you in color.”

  He lifted his hand to his chin. He’d been clean-shaven for the photo shoot earlier. Now his skin was rough with a day’s growth of stubble. He wanted to reach out to her, only he didn’t know how. Something about her was closed off, a guardedness she’d let go of at the beach. Was this image thing more about hiding than looking professional?

  “Hannah recommended this place,” he said, changing the subject. His fingers brushed her soft hands as he took the plastic menu from her and put it back in its holder. “Her uncle owns it. It’s a breakfast joint. But it happens to have a spectacular view. She said if I asked nicely …” He lowered his voice to a whisper. And paid handsomely. “…Uncle Marvin would open up and cook lobster.”

  Maggie’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “Just for us?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Is lobster à la Uncle Marvin any good?” There was a cheeky glow in her not-exactly-green-not-exactly-brown-eyed gaze.

  “Apparently so. Let’s find out.” Not being on a date felt quite good. No reading between the lines. No expectations. Just Maggie. With her freckles. And her lips. And that sparkle in her eyes.

  Over the last two days her curves had been infinitely distracting. A necklace with a bright amber stone dangled in the dip of her top, tempting his gaze into the out-of-bounds zone. He’d resigned himself to not doing inappropriate stuff like thinking about the color of her underwear. He needed to work on the “just friends” thing, although kissing her at the beach had been a knock-out detour.

  Not in the habit of having to resist temptation, trying not to want to seduce her had turned things upside down, inside out, and every which way but straightforward. What’s more, he was interested in her. Too interested. He didn’t need to know why she was using a sperm bank to have a baby, but he wanted to understand.

  The waitress came and stood at Maggie’s shoulder, notebook in hand and pen poised. Alex looked up. He recognized her gawp. He’d seen that look on so many faces. He knew what was coming next.

  “It is you, isn’t it?”

  Just a second, I’ll check. He shot an apologetic glance at Maggie. She smiled back. Her eyes twinkled. “Yes, it is,” he told the waitress.

  “I knew it!” On the verge of an incomprehensible prattle, the woman physically wobbled, as if standing on the edge of a cliff. He’d been here before – numerous times. “I said to Marvin, it’s him. It’s got to be. It’s that vampire guy – Jago,” she trilled, delighted. “Some of the customers said you were in town, taking press photos, or something, so I knew it could only be you.” She drew breath. Alex waited for her rush of enthusiasm to die. “Marvin’s not a fan of Mercy of the Vampires. He’s clueless. But as soon as he said Hannah sent you and that he was opening up specially, I put two and two together and sure enough …” She stared at Maggie, apparently displeased that she wasn’t another celebrity. “Where’s your brother? Is Jarvis not with you tonight?”

  We’re not joined at the hip. Maggie must have read his mind. She was stifling a giggle. He opened his mouth to reply but the waitress was not to be interrupted. “So, what do you say? Can I get an autograph?”

  This had happened on countless occasions and he knew exactly what to expect. “Where would you like it?”

  The waitress pouted flirtatiously and looked down at her cleavage. Oh dear. These moments used to amuse him – not any more. He was jaded from too many tussles with girls and marker pens. Fortunately, she opted to hand him her notepad. “To Lynette,” she dictated. “Two e’s, two t’s.”

  He scribbled his name as legibly as he could, and risked adding an x, although experience had taught him that Lynette might be inclined to ask for it in kind. The marker-pen-ladies of this world weren’t backwards in coming forwards.

  Thankfully, no kiss was required. Lynette brought Alex a beer and an orange juice for Maggie. Marvin cooked the lobster, and for the rest of the evening they were left in peace.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” He pushed his paper plate away. It wasn’t easy eating lobster with plastic cutlery. “Flying back to London?”

  “Going on a whale-watch,” Maggie was still doing battle with the lobster. “Why? D’you want to come with me?”

  “I’d love to.” There was a siren call in the invitation. He’d said yes without thinking. He’d been planning to hole himself up at the hotel and work on Hamlet. The lines wouldn’t learn themselves. And he needed to work on his received pronunciation. The critics would be baying for his blood when he took on the iconic role in London next month. They’d shoot him down in flames if he murdered Hamlet with a mid-Atlantic twang. The last thing he needed was to spend a day at sea, but he couldn’t remember when he’d actually taken a day off and done something different, just for the hell of it. His diary had been crammed with agent meetings, promo and rehearsals for months. Doubt flickered on her face. “Was that the wrong answer?”

  Since he’d be in London for a while, and since she’d like to be friends again, he was trying to be chivalrous. Only their latent electricity was definitely still there, and bad as that was it was the main reason he’d said yes please to the whale-watch.


  She narrowed her eyes and scrunched her freckled nose. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Not until Friday, then I have to be in New York for a movie premiere.” He looked at his watch to check what day it said. Sometimes living out of a suitcase, doing PR, he forgot. “It’s only Wednesday.”

  “Flipping Nora. Your plans make mine sound like watching paint dry.”

  “Come to New York with me.” He locked eyes with her. Confusion clouded her features. “You can be my date.” Her eyebrows shot up. “My not-a-date?” The idea had popped into his head out of nowhere. It was good getting to know her again. It would be a chance to make it up to her for treating her so shabbily in the past. He could do this “friends” thing. He could.

  He’d have to keep his libido on lockdown.

  “That’s impossible. I’m flying home on Friday.” She looked away, staring transfixed at the streaks of light on the water around the harbor.

  “Change your plans. I’ll do you a deal – your whale-watch for my movie premiere.” He paused and threw in, “And a makeover when we get back to the UK.”

  “How does that work?” She turned back to him. A mischievous smile had replaced the puzzled look on her face.

  “Easy. We change your flights and you come to New York for the weekend.”

  “In return for you coming with me to watch whales?” She folded her arms across her chest, unselfconsciously tightening her cleavage.

  “Correct. Plus a re-style. I need you to fix my image.”

  “I can’t drop everything and go to New York.”

  “What’s to drop? Have you got plans for the weekend?”

  “Sleep.” Under any other circumstances, he’d have assumed she meant with someone.