The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights

by Sarah Lefebve

  She wandered barefoot into the sitting room. In spite of the scone feast, she was ravenous. She chose a green apple from a fruit bowl on the coffee table and plonked herself on the sofa, legs tucked up under her on the cushions. She bit into the apple. It hit her taste buds with a fusion of sweetness and tang. She set it on the coffee table and picked up the laptop.

  Quickly she typed Alex Wells and New York. The search brought up a stack of hits.

  “Oh. My. Gosh.” She uttered the words between hyperventilating breaths as she clicked on the first one, then the second, and the third. It was the biggest shock seeing herself on a celebrity lifestyle page described as “Cinderella of New York City”.

  Fresh from the bathroom Alex walked into the room. A towel wrapped tantalizingly around his waist, he rubbed at his wet hair with another one, pushing dark strands that had fallen across one eye out of his face.

  She made to close the screen. Too quick for her, he peered over her shoulder, halting her action by reaching over and closing his hand over hers. “Catching up on celebrity gossip?”

  She picked up the apple, took another bite, and gulped. “Uh-huh.” She ate the last mouthfuls of her apple and tossed the core into a bin.

  “Anything interesting?” The rumble of his voice and his half-naked body ignited new sparks of desire in her.

  “Not really.” She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice as she added lightly, “Just some guy who plays a TV vampire, or something.”

  Alex massaged her neck. “What about him?”

  “He’s been bonking his stylist.” He rounded the sofa and sat next to her. She passed him the computer. “Allegedly.”

  He scrolled through the photos. “That takes the biscuit.” Color drained from his freshly shaven face.

  Maggie gawped at the screen. “Is Jago the Daddy?” She’d only just found out that she was pregnant and there was a picture of her going into the charity event at the Empire State Building with a baby bump the size of a beach ball.

  “What the …?”

  “They’ve altered the photo. It’s the press’s current favorite trick.” He closed the laptop. “It’s best not to look. Try not to let it bother you.”

  She was out of her depth. “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “This isn’t rhino hide.” He pinched the skin on the back of his hand. “Sometimes it’s best to ignore stuff. Wait for it to go away.”

  Maggie gently touched his hand with the pad of her thumb, moving it in circles over the spot that he’d pinched. “That’s why I told the reporter you’re not the dad. I thought the story would go away if they knew I’d had donor insemination.”

  Alex pulled his hand away abruptly. “Evidently that’s not the story they wanted to run.”

  Unsettled by his abrasive reaction, she jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. In the shower she closed her eyes and turned her face up into the comforting warmth of the water. The streams trickled over her. Sadness clouded her mind like a storm spoiling a perfect day. Some crazy, stupid, mixed-up part of her wanted Alex to be her baby’s dad. It was a bigger fantasy than trying to convince herself that last night she’d been making love to a vampire. Who was she kidding? That notion had been a non-starter from the micro-second after the moment she’d dreamt it up, and so was this. She and Alex had both accepted that no matter how good this was, it had no future.

  She lathered her hair with an excessive dollop of the hotel’s freebie shampoo. The citrus aroma filled the shower cubicle. She tipped back her head and ran her fingers into her hair, rinsing out the sudsy froth with grim determination. She’d given in to one night with Alex. She remained in control of her life. She felt more for him than she’d wanted to believe at first. A lot more. He could turn her beliefs about the non-existence of The One upside down with just one word – if he wanted to. She was in love with him. But she couldn’t make him love her. And she couldn’t make him feel something he didn’t. She was okay with that. She had to be. She’d always known she’d never have him. There was something about him. Something isolated, remote. He was hers for now. She’d given herself totally to him and in doing so her heart hadn’t shattered into a zillion tiny pieces.

  She wasn’t like one of those airhead girls his character seduced on the show. She was still standing. In charge of her world. Mistress of her own destiny. And undeterred by an intrusive story on the internet.

  Suddenly she felt his body. Strong. Smooth. Hard. Like hot marble.

  Incongruous. And tempting.

  His arms closed round her, drawing her close against him so that his erection jutted against the curve at the base of her spine. Hot, wet and naked in the shower with Alex she was powerless; unable to resist his potent sex appeal, the deep sensuality of his lips on the back of her neck. She turned into his arms and kissed his solid chest, moving her mouth gently over his sun-golden skin. Water showered over them.

  Her body responded to his magnetism. On automatic.

  “Get a condom,” she urged. He did as she bid.

  Clear. Decisive. She knew her own mind. She’d make love to him one last time. And leave.

  His mouth, softer than before, slippery, deeply sensual, closed over hers. He cupped his hands under her bum and lifted her. She entwined him with her legs. Water pooled in her cleavage and trickled over her breasts. The contact of her nipples with his skin pushed her desire off the charts. He entered her. The concoction of wet, hot bodies was more than she could bear. A moan of pleasure formed low in her throat. Their bodies powered up in unison, driving each other higher. Towards climax. Locked in ecstasy. She came first. His release followed seconds after.

  “Alex!” The cry that had been building inside her escaped in a groan of supplication and satisfaction. “I have to leave.”

  They relaxed their hold on each other. Shadows darkened his eyes where blue light had danced moments before. He stepped out of the shower. She watched him from beneath lowered lashes, admiring his physical perfection.

  For the last time.

  He held out a plush bathrobe. She stepped dripping onto the tiles, slipped her arms into it and tied the belt. She grabbed a towel and made a turban. He undid it again, dried the ends of her hair, and threw the towel on the floor. He ploughed his hands into the long, damp strands and massaged her scalp, moving his fingers in sensuous circles. He touched her chin, his fingers firm, forcing her not to avoid his eyes. “Look at me.” His deep voice sent tingles rippling down her spine. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, lingered, and she ached to let it deepen. Except he broke away. “There’s no ‘have to’ about it.” His tone was direct, his mood electric. She opened her mouth to insist. He cut her off. “We’re going out.”

  “I’m not going anywhere but the airport. I need to rebook my flight.”

  He put a finger on her lips and replaced it with a light kiss. His mouth moved upwards, feathering first her nose then her forehead. Thrown by the tender gesture Maggie froze.

  “Stay,” he insisted huskily. “You’ve missed one flight today already. What’s the hurry? Besides, there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

  “Wh-Where?” All too ready to cave, she knew that staying would be like putting skates on her heart and allowing it to take off across the thinnest ice.

  “Broadway,” he announced. “I called in a favor. I’ve got us comps for a show.”

  His big break-your-heart-smile spread across his face so that creases hollowed his cheeks, like brackets. “You’re not leaving New York without taking in a show on the Great White Way. I won’t allow it.”

  She was topsy-turvy with doubt and desire. She’d had her one-night stand. She really didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t know if she could stay without blathering about her feelings all over the place. And that would make a terrible mess.

  The temptation was too much. Alex wasn’t going to happen to her again in this lifetime.

  “Oh, you won’t?” She rose to the challenge. “We’ll have to see about that.” She ran he
r hands over his broad, golden chest, skimming tauntingly downwards to where he’d tucked a towel around his waist. He groaned and halted the downward progress of her hands, circling her wrists with the gentle force of his big hands. His erection stood proud under the white towel.

  “You’ll pay for that later.” He spoke raspingly. The effect she had on his gorgeous body delighted her.

  “I’ll settle up now if it’s all the same to you.”

  With that she jumped into his arms, and wrapped her body in a tight tangle around his. Leaving wet towels scattered on the floor, he carried her back to bed. Living in the moment, she squealed with delight and gave herself over to a bout of delicious Alex-style pleasure.

  Resigned to the fact that she was about to set off for JFK, Maggie swooned a little as Alex shoved the big, stupid penguin with the silly fixed grin on its beak into the back of a yellow taxi outside the hotel where they’d spent another blissful night. The show had been great, but rather than risk any more run-ins with photographers, or worse still, would-be paps with their phone cameras, instead of heading for an upscale restaurant where New Yorkers go to see and be seen, they’d gone back to their suite and ordered room service.

  It was fine by Maggie. She was much happier alone with Alex than being seen out and about with him. After a night of passion and intensity, things had been left unsaid. What would have been the point in telling Alex how she felt about him? He couldn’t say he loved her back if he didn’t.

  Alex swept Maggie into his arms in a strong hug. It felt as if she’d melt there and then on the New York street and trickle down a drain, never to be seen again. She inhaled the freshly showered scent of his warm skin as his cheek brushed hers. It was over. She was clinging on to her self-control by a thread. If he asked her to stay any longer, she’d fall so hard for him that she’d never recover. She needn’t have worried. It was over for him too. He had a full day of press stuff scheduled and his taxi was waiting, engine running, an impatient driver drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Bye, Alex. It was nice …”

  “Nice?” Both eyebrows shot up.

  “Better than nice.” She climbed into the cab. “It was …” She searched for a word. Why did this have to be awkward? She sounded so prim. He watched her closely, mesmerizing her with his eyes.

  “… Wicked?” he supplied. His Jago hint of an almost-smile slotted into place.

  Maggie didn’t reply. She quivered inside, suppressing a bubble of emotion. She wanted to do this goodbye thing with the poise of an actress in a black and white movie.

  An irritable blast on the horn came from the taxi behind. “Time to go.” Alex closed the door of Maggie’s taxi and slammed his hand down on the roof, signaling to the driver that he could set off. “See you in London.”

  The words stung. She couldn’t bear to go down the road of imagining him in her life, loving him, relying on him being there. Through the open window she heard his voice boom theatrically. “I want you at my first night. And, don’t forget, I’m counting on you for a makeover.” As the taxi drove away he signaled with a thumb to his ear and his little finger to his mouth that he would call.

  Chapter Seventeen

  London had been grey since she’d flown back from New York. Grey sky. Grey river. Grey buildings. There hadn’t been a blink of sunshine in a whole week. And to make things more glum, the crazy stories about Maggie and Alex in the gossip mags and on the internet had had the opposite of the desired effect on her work. Instead of being more in demand, a television presenter who’d booked her for style advice prior to a big awards ceremony had cancelled. Maggie refused to let the greyness get her down.

  In the galley kitchen of her Battersea studio apartment she located her big jar of duty-free jelly beans. She took it down off a shelf crowded with assorted, pretty, mismatched crockery and shook it. She’d already picked out all the peachy-pie flavor. She started hunting out kiwi, extracting them carefully between an orange-tipped thumb and forefinger.

  She was steadfastly ignoring her mobile phone. Every time she picked it up it reminded her that she had three missed calls from Alex – deliberately missed.

  She cursed herself for failing dismally to separate emotion from sex in New York. She’d been a thrill-seeker to the hold his body had over hers, and entranced by the effect she seemed to have on him. She’d been a complete idiot. She’d allowed herself to become so wrapped up in him it hurt.

  She could delete his calls, go on avoiding him, but it wouldn’t make her feel any better. Facing up to Alex would be better than hiding from him, so after popping a small selection of jelly beans to fortify her she picked up her phone and pressed call.

  “Hey. How’ve you been?” Alex’s deep, smooth tone gave her butterflies.

  “Fine,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Doing this and that.”

  There was a moment of lead silence.

  “Any baby news?” He sounded like something was stuck in his throat, as if he too was scoffing jelly beans and had swallowed a handful in one go. “Have you had a scan? Or anything?”

  “Nope. Not yet.” She had an appointment in her diary for the following week. It was on the tip of her tongue to say so, but she held back. Alex wasn’t part of her baby plan. It would be a mistake to share any more details than she already had.

  “I’ve got a favor to ask.” Alex got straight to the point. “I want you to give me that makeover.”

  Maggie laughed. “You don’t need one.”

  “I need to make some changes. I want to lose the Jago look.” Now Maggie had a lump in her throat. She thought he’d got past stressing that he wouldn’t be taken seriously as an actor as long as he was associated with having played a vampire. “Please, Maggie.” Her heart flipped. “Say you’ll help me out. I need to change my image – fast. Frankly yesterday wouldn’t be too soon.”

  The misgivings in her head counted for nothing when an hour later she found herself sitting with Alex in a café, discussing ways he could tweak his appearance, and sketching out ideas on napkins in pencil; not because that was in any way necessary, simply to keep her fingers busy. She’d got a surprise when she first saw him. He was wearing a beanie and when he pulled it off she saw that he’d had his hair cut short in preparation for playing Hamlet. It suited him, accentuating his chiseled bone structure.

  “How have you got time for this?” she asked. Her pencil whisked deftly over a fresh paper napkin. When she looked down she’d doodled a wonky heart. She obliterated it with a criss-cross, coloring between the lines until it was an unrecognizable grey blob. “Shouldn’t you be busy with theatrical luvvy stuff?”

  “I’m not needed. They’re ironing out technical glitches.” He smiled a big, lazy smile. “I’m all yours.” His smile was infectious. She’d love him to want her. What he wanted was her expertise in the style department.

  Maggie stirred her hot chocolate. It smelt sweet and milky and soothing, and much better than coffee. She’d gone right off that. “You don’t have to leave Mercy of the Vampires behind, you know. In fact, the sooner you accept that it will always be with you, the better.”

  “Are you saying I can’t change?”

  Maggie leant her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand. “That depends. You can change your image. You’ve already started.” She flicked a glance at his haircut. “I like the hair, by the way.” She wondered how it would feel beneath her fingers. Aghhhh! Thoughts of that nature would be best avoided. She picked up her pencil again and aimlessly doodled. “I think you need to trust people more. There’s a world of difference between Alex Wells and Jago.”

  “He’s a fictional character – obviously. But sometimes it feels like the distinction between him and me gets blurred.”

  It hadn’t escaped her notice that a small gang of well-groomed ladies were giggling behind their coffee cups and sending furtive glances in his direction.

  “What exactly is it you’re trying to achieve? I can take you shopping. I can
advise you about what’s on trend. I can change your look. But I can’t change you.” She tried to rein her opinion in, but couldn’t help herself. “And really truly,” she added, “I wouldn’t want to. In ten years’ time Jago will be part of a whole range of work that you’ll have done. You’ve got to stop wanting to pretend that Mercy of the Vampires didn’t happen.”

  Alex ran a hand over his newly short hair. “Put like that it sounds like I’m ungrateful. I’m not. I’ve had ten amazing years.”

  “And here’s to the next ten!” Maggie picked up her hot chocolate and clinked it against his coffee mug. “Be proud of Jago,” she suggested gently. “And be grateful that he’s led you to where you are now. You did the right thing when you went to LA.”

  They hit the shops and time flew. Revamping Alex was a dreamy assignment, and with New York fresh in her memory, it was even dreamier. It was hard to keep reminding herself that whatever craziness had happened between them in those few out-of-this-world days they’d spent together, it wasn’t real, it had nowhere to go.

  And if he asked her to have dinner? Or go back to his apartment? What would she do? She’d better get used to it. The fantasy had ended. What happened in New York stayed in New York.

  While Alex was paying for his things, Maggie ducked into the nearest Ladies.

  She couldn’t walk past a toilet these days without needing to pee.

  She avoided the mirror, unsettled by the empty-shell reflection she’d glimpsed looking back at her. Uncertainty hit her hard. A man to love forever hadn’t happened for her. She’d like to love one. Could one love her back? Right now Alex was the only man on her radar and there was not a chance that he’d love her back. She was pretty sure that he was immune to twenty-four-seven love. Even her mother hadn’t been up for loving her all day, every day. The odds weren’t stacked in her favor. People weren’t meant to stay together forever. They went their own ways and did the things they wanted to do. That’s why she’d come up with her man-free family plan in the first place.