Alex nodded, showing Nick nothing but the back of his head. “Uh-huh.”
“If you and Maggie have moved on too far in life for there to be any chance of getting together, what exactly is she doing here with you in New York?”
Alex laughed. Good question. “We’re just friends.”
Back on a path through trees, the brothers jogged in silence until Nick stopped suddenly. He pulled off his baseball cap and pushed his shades up onto his blonde head. Running on the spot, Alex caught a glint in his brown eyes. It wasn’t the usual mischief.
“What if ‘just friends’ just isn’t enough?”
“I’ve no intention of wrestling with the ‘what if’ factor. Just friends will have to be enough. We’re networking.”
“If you say so,” Nick called after him as he ran on, leaving his brother in his dust. Alex didn’t see the disbelieving smile on his twin’s face, but he sensed it. Right now Maggie was in his hotel suite getting red-carpet-ready. So what if the attraction was still there? He could control it, even if he didn’t want to.
He still wanted to ask her for some style advice, get her to make him over. He could trust her not to dream up anything too bizarre. She’d be a reliable person to have on his side.
He shouldn’t have kissed her on the beach. He’d been selfish. He’d done what he felt like in the moment, exactly as he had the last time he’d been with Maggie. Reality had kicked in. She’d been hurt. She was having a baby. She deserved to find the man of her dreams – a guy who’d be in it for the long haul. Apparently she didn’t want to. Whatever. The last thing she needed was a fling with him.
He’d locked down how he used to feel about her. He was in no danger there. Since the whale-watch trip his concern for her had deepened. Her ex had erased the color from her life – quite literally. And the memories that started creeping in when she did the pregnancy test, reminding him of how his mother hadn’t coped with being a single mother, were alarming. Darn it. He didn’t want to have to worry about her.
Alex’s suite in the exclusive Manhattan hotel was bigger than Maggie’s London apartment. She felt out of place in the splendid luxury. From the huge beds and the rich-mahogany dining table, to the furnishings, upholstered in sumptuous shades of gold, the overdose of showy comfort made her uncomfortable. The view was awesome; she had to give it that. It looked out over the treetops of Central Park. There was a telescope in one of the windows. She’d tried it out when they arrived. Meant for looking at the view, she’d used it to spy on people in the park.
Self-consciousness prickled through her, as if she was the one being inspected with a powerful telephoto lens. When she’d realized just how little time she’d have to get into tip-top style shape for the premiere she’d agreed to Alex calling in reinforcements.
Edwina Charles, uber-confident New York stylist was the result and she had Maggie quaking in her boots. She came with her own hair and make-up people. And they made a formidable team, all three looking as if they’d just stepped out from between the pages of a glossy magazine. They were totally look-at-me types, the antithesis of Maggie’s personal blend-into-the-background ethos.
When Edwina had arrived at Alex’s hotel suite with a bellhop in tow carrying four meticulously packaged designer dresses to choose from she’d been excited. When the wrappings were off and she’d taken in the fact that her request for an LBD had been ignored? Not so much. All four were red! Wearing red to a red-carpet event was notoriously difficult. There was a risk of clashing. Her confidence in her own styling beliefs whizzed right out the window. It was Alex’s choice. Maggie’s heart skittered and then her stomach churned as the fear of forcing herself out of her shell hit home.
“Oh. My. Giddy. Aunt. It’s red, red, red. Or red!” She didn’t try to hide her dismay. “I don’t do color.”
“You do now.” Edwina, herself an artful combination of geometric-print trousers, an orange and purple top, and a bang-on-trend jacket, complete with platform shoes, dangly earrings, bangles, and a big, blingy ring, held two of the stunning dresses up close to the window and examined them in the daylight. “The question is … which shade of red will work best for you?”
She hung one of the dresses back on the rail. “I’m thinking not the tomato.”
Maggie resisted the urge to debate the pronunciation of the word tomato and break into song. But “Let’s call the whole thing off” was on the tip of her tongue.
It was fine for Alex. He’d come jogging in, jump in the shower, and throw on a penguin suit. Done. The upside to this experience – if there was one – was that now she could identify with her clients, now she appreciated how much trust they put in her when they allowed her to plan their image, choose their clothes.
Instead of screaming “I hate me in red” and taking off on a jog around the park, she opted – albeit reluctantly – to go with the flow. She’d choose which dress she liked best and steer Edwina towards that. It would be a bit like doing her job in reverse.
“What do you think of this?” She pointed to the one she liked least.
“Hmmm.” Edwina devoted her consideration to the short, sexy, diamante-encrusted red- velvet confection. It reminded Maggie of an upscale version of the Santa Girl outfit that Alex and Nick had teased her about in Boston. She didn’t want to wind up wearing that.
“I like it.” She crossed her fingers behind her back that Edwina would go for one of the other two.
Edwina narrowed her eyes and looked her up and down. Maggie crumpled inside. She felt like a worn-out cotton frock in the bottom of the laundry hamper.
“For a Christmas party – maybe, but it’s September, so we’re not there yet. Tonight’s premiere requires something subtle, sophisticated. I want to get this right.”
Maggie relaxed. She’d been scared of Edwina at first, but she was starting to feel intrigued about letting go of her style control. She could live with it – just this once.
“Which will it be?” Edwina eyed the dresses. The bangles on her wrist jingled as she ran her hand gently over the fabric and fluffed out the skirts, sizing up the two different shapes.
“They’re both much too long.” Maggie pointed out unhelpfully.
Edwina smiled sympathetically. “These gowns were designed for a six-foot model, not a five-foot-something stylist. Not to worry. We’ll get around that.”
Noticing the label of a designer she loved, Maggie’s heart hammered. She’d used Amandine Kendal occasionally for her own clients; never ever dreaming that a day would actually come when she’d be wearing her herself. She held her breath. Both the dresses were gorgeous, but she really hoped Edwina would agree with her on this one.
“I wish I was in your shoes, Maggie. Which one do you prefer?”
“They’re both lovely. But if it’s up to me to choose, I’d pick the Amandine Kendal.”
“Bravo.” Edwina clapped her hands together. Her bangles jangled. “Good choice. My work here is done.”
Maggie hugged her. “You’re a twenty-first-century fairy godmother. I feel like Cinderella.”
Edwina swept a jingle-jangle arm through the air grandly. “You shall go to the ball, my dear. There’s just a little matter of a makeover to do before I send for a pumpkin and turn it into a carriage. By the time Alex gets back to the suite we’ll have transformed you into a paparazzo’s dream.”
Hours later Maggie’s usual trendy nail color had been replaced by a classic red. According to Edwina, it complemented her gorgeous designer gown magnificently. Her make-up was fabulous too. She’d insisted on keeping the lipstick as understated as a red could be. But since the words “red” and “understated” didn’t really work well together, she’d drawn a deep breath and was going with the girly theme and praying that she didn’t look like a man-eater. She couldn’t believe what they’d done with her hair. She felt like a completely different person. The hair stylist had scattered a few sun-bleached highlights through her mop to terrific effect. Then she’d piled it up on her head, all so
ft and wispy, as if one breath of a breeze would send it tumbling, only it was so skillfully done and secure that nothing would shift it.
Finally it was time for the dress. She adored it. From the intricately detailed embroidered lace of the sculpted bodice to the contrasting floaty silk skirt, it was the dress of Maggie’s dreams. Only normally, she’d never have dreamed of actually wearing it – for real, outside of her imagination. It was enough to know that she could make that happen for other people.
Edwina had thought of everything. She’d located wispily brief red-lace undies and brought a size up and a size down in everything to be sure of getting the perfect fit. Maggie stepped into the dress. It was magical going from stylist to styled. Edwina zipped the impossible-to-reach zip and presented her with an outrageous pair of skyscrapers to finish off the look.
“I can’t wear those.”
“You’ve no choice on this one, honey. There’s about a foot and a half too much dress as it is. Without those heels you’ll be trailing too much fabric.”
Maggie slid her feet into the shoes, feeling like Cinderella again. When she walked into the grand living room and saw Alex waiting for her, her heart missed a beat. Way more Prince Charming than penguin, she had to admit that he carried off a tux to perfection.
“Will I do?” she asked. “Safe to say, I’d never have styled myself this way in a million years.”
He looked at her with a lazy smile, as if Edwina and her girls weren’t there. “Wow.” He rumbled the word out on a long breath, adding with a cough, as if he’d suddenly realized they had company, “You scrub up well.” There was no disguising the flicker of get-a-room heat in his gaze.
We’ve got a room.
Chapter Ten
Maggie stood on the red carpet under the lighted canopy of the New York movie theater and breathed in. Flashes exploded all around. She felt for all the world like a princess. It was practically an out-of-body experience.
In her incredible skyscraper heels her head reached above Alex’s shoulder for once. Even so, when they paused to pose for the cameras, several inches of scarlet silk made a puddle at her feet.
Alex looked as unreal as she felt. At home on the red carpet, he sizzled – every inch a star. Presenters and journalists vied for the celebrities’ attention. Maggie fired off smiles in all directions, as if she’d been born to it. Inside, her heart was beating like crazy. The phrase “deer in the headlights” sprang to mind. It didn’t come close to covering how she felt behind the paparazzi-ready smile. What she lacked in savoir faire, Alex made up for. He had enough confidence for them both.
“Alex Wells, over here!”
Alex, Alex, Alex. His name rang in her ears. Devoted fans and vaguely interested passersby leaned across the barriers holding up phones, capturing him for their social media pages.
“Alex, Kerry Sheldon – Manhattan Tonight Show – can I have a word?”
Alex took Maggie’s hand and stopped in front of a television camera. His fingers touching hers sent waves of heat pulsing through her. She smiled affably as Alex chatted away, charming the pants off the presenter. Maggie’s fixed smile had started to make her feel like a Barbie doll, when all of a sudden the focus turned to her.
The presenter shoved a microphone in her face and shot a question at her. “Magenta Plumtree – who are you wearing tonight?”
“Me? Ohhh …” She glanced around in a daze. Oh my. “This is Amandine Kendal.” She struggled to hide the tremble in her voice.
“And tell me, Magenta, did you style yourself for this evening’s premiere?” A supercilious note in the presenter’s voice made her suspicious. “Red on the red carpet. That’s a brave look to pull off for a lady who’s never walked the red carpet before!” Maggie gulped. Was she being got at by this pushy woman? She’d smarmed the words out making her insult sound as if it had been intended as a compliment. Normally so far behind the scenes, Maggie had never had to deal with any of this mad palaver before. She hesitated, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.
That instant she felt Alex’s strong arm slide protectively around her waist. Feeling him close, helping keep her nerves steady, she floated on air. “I styled Magenta tonight,” he cut in, rescuing her just in time. “She’s here as my guest.” He glared directly into the camera with the full potency of his blue irises. “She looks fabulous.” He turned and moved away, his arm tightly banded around Maggie. “If you’ll excuse us, please, we’ve got a movie to see.”
As he swept her away from the cameras into the lobby, Maggie caught a glimpse of the presenter’s face. Stunned, she was now the one doing the goldfish impression. Alex dipped his head, his mouth so whisperingly close to her ear that she sensed the heat of his breath on her neck. “You look amazing.”
Inside, the place was a huge movie palace with chandeliers, gold trimmings, red walls, and plush red carpets. Who knew she’d blend so easily in red?
A waiter approached with a tray of champagne. Alex took two flutes and went to hand one to Maggie. She shook her head, shrugging apologetically.
“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” He put both glasses back and lifted two sparkling-water-filled flutes from another passing tray.”
“Good old fizzy water.”
“Cheers.” He clinked Maggie’s glass with his and smiled at her in a way that made her already wobbly stomach slosh like a washing machine on the delicates cycle. “Listen. We don’t have to stay, you know. We can do the rounds and slip off before the movie starts.”
“We can’t do that.”
“Yes we can. The stars will be doing it. They’ll do a little spiel at the beginning and by the time it’s over they’ll be happily downing cocktails in some hip bar, or halfway to LA, or London, or wherever they’re doing their next promo. Believe me, they don’t always stay to watch the movie.”
A weird, flat feeling befuddled Maggie. “Do you mean to say that I’ve spent virtually the entire day getting dolled up like a dog’s dinner just to step onto the red carpet and leave? I don’t even get to see the film?” Alex gave her a very sexy grin. “What?”
She could have sworn she heard him mutter “lucky dog”. She felt her skin start to glow in a shade that almost certainly matched her outfit perfectly.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll stay and watch the movie. I haven’t seen it yet. We made it about a year and a half ago. For all I know, the bit with me in ended up on the cutting-room floor.”
“Hardly,” she pointed out, “If you and Nick weren’t in it, they wouldn’t expect you to be here all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, now would they?”
“All what?” Alex laughed. “It’s not an animation, Maggie. I’m not some woodland creature.”
“Well, okay then, let me rephrase that – looking all sultry and sexy – the way you do. Better?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “It might be if I thought you meant it.”
“Well, I do mean it. Just not in a proactive, I want to go to bed with you, kind of way.” Liar! “More in a helping out an old mate who happened to need a plus one for a film premiere kind of a way – and he happens to be looking pretty flipping …” She couldn’t find an appropriate, non-committal, not-interested-in-that-way word. “Dapper.”
“Dapper!” Alex scoffed, over-doing the British accent. He glanced about the room furtively. “I say, old bean. Look at all these dapper chaps. Are we in a period drama? Spiffing!”
If it wouldn’t have put her in danger of toppling off her high heels, Maggie would have aimed a kick at one of his designer-clad shins. Fortunately an announcement distracted her.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The disembodied voice was very grand. “Please take your seats for the New York Premiere of The Magician of Arden.”
Exactly as Alex predicted, the stars of the movie introduced the film and promptly vanished. Maggie had styled many important clients, but being a guest at the same event as these one-hundred-per-cent million-dollar Hollywood people took her breath away – even if they did disappear in
a puff of smoke the minute the lights went down.
When the film began Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He and Maggie had been placed next to Nick and their co-star Ella from Mercy of the Vampires. Nick and Ella made an appearance towards the end of the movie, but Alex’s cameo came right at the beginning and he was dreading seeing himself on the big screen. The thought of having to view his performance under the scrutiny of a cinema fit to burst with celebrities and media people was excruciating. He totally got why the leading actors preferred to duck out early – quite apart from the brain freeze of having to watch their own movie far too many times than was good for you.
Stunning, Maggie looked the part – the perfect mystery hot date. He was glad she’d come to New York. She was easy to be with. She didn’t play games, manipulate. He could get to like this friends thing – if it wasn’t such a challenge to his libido. This weekend was about closing an unfinished chapter, not starting something new.
He wanted to be cool with her donor-baby decision. His own feelings, not knowing who his biological father was, colored his view. She didn’t believe in one man forever, but what if that changed? What if Maggie found The One? Would he love her child? Or would he be the baby’s dad on sufferance? He’d assured her that Mr. Right was out there. But what if he came along for a while, only to give up and abandon them like Drake had done. His mother had lost the plot, an emotional wreck, unable to haul herself back from a broken heart, incapable of being responsible for two small children.
He’d been watching the screen, taking in nothing that was happening up there as the whirlpool of concerns for Maggie spun in his head, when he twigged that this was his moment.
He leant close and whispered in her ear. “Okay, get ready, this is my bit.” Her hair looked different up. It brushed his face, as soft as the silken threads in the fabric of her way-too-sexy dress. Her signature perfume, wild flowers, stirred him.
She touched his forearm, reassuringly. “Brace yourself!” Typical. There was no hiding anything from her. She’d picked up on his lack of interest in watching himself. She’d always been good at reading him.
The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights Page 12
