What If He’s the One. Kathy Jay
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“no action” plan. What he should be doing over the next few days was getting to know her again, not weighing up her fling-potential. She wasn’t fling material. He looked down at the big bags at his feet.
“Strictly speaking I guess some of this is my baggage,” he mused.
A puzzled smile twisted her rosy lips. Her eyes sparkled. Even after seven hours on a plane, she looked very kissable.
“I guess,” she agreed, crossing her arms defensively.
Back when he’d landed Mercy, he’d wanted to call her. Badly. But he’d been afraid that if he did, he might turn down a golden opportunity and disappoint his mother and Nick. Maggie might have been the girl who’d rather sleep than have sex with him, but she’d also been the friend who could read him like a play script. He couldn’t talk to her, because if he had done, he’d have risked convincing himself to fly back to London, finish drama school, and audition for serious roles; something that met with his father’s approval.
That would have been out of the question, no matter how badly he wanted to do it. Their mother pulling strings only got them so far. The studio required both Wells twins, and the publicity mileage that came with them thanks to their parents’ celebrity. Without Alex, there’d have been no contract for Nick. No way would Alex have let his brother down, but with each new series, each new contract signed, he’d become more entrenched in a role he’d been lukewarm about at the outset.
Now that he was standing next to Maggie, his blinkers were off. His crassness ate at him. He should have said goodbye. Saying sorry, like it was only last week and he’d just forgotten to call, seemed inadequate. Leaving everything behind to follow his brother’s dreams had been tough, so he’d confined her to a compartment labeled ‘past’, along with all the other stuff he’d failed to deal with.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened with a ping. Maggie stepped quickly into the corridor, looking down the line of numbered doors. Alex strode out after her, carrying the baggage.
“Which room?”
She glanced at her key. “It’s right here.” She pointed to the door in front of her. “This one. You can go, I can manage now.” She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “Thanks.”
Did she have to have such a sexy smile?
“Open up and I’ll lift this lot in for you. I don’t want you rupturing something and failing to turn up to the shoots. I need you.”
Maggie huffed out a breath and did as she was told. She was loaded with the irresistibility factor.
“You’ve gone all chivalrous knight,” she laughed. There was a smoky glint in her hazel eyes and curls of amusement tweaked the corners of her mouth.
“What were you expecting? I haven’t turned into my TV character. Jago might be mysterious and moody, but that isn’t me.” He hesitated. He wanted to add, “I shouldn’t need to tell you that”, except he thought better of it. The way he’d treated her was distinctly unchivalrous.
Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “I know that,” she said. “Please promise me you won’t forget to channel a smattering of mean and menacing for the shoots, though, because I’m quite sure the magazine isn’t expecting me to stick you in a suit of armor.”
“Vampires in shining armor?” he chuckled.
“That’s what I’d call a drastic makeover,” she laughed, “And one guaranteed not to get me any follow-up calls. I’d like to raise my profile, not bury it without trace. Anyway, you needn’t worry, the looks I’ve got planned are very cool.”
He captured her gaze and the urge to play with her reeled him in. “I’m yours to do with as you please.”
The devil in him wanted to feel her blue-nailed fingers tear his clothes off, and make stupid, crazy love to her with the finesse their last encounter had lacked. These rogue thoughts weren’t helping his no-action plan.
She looked him up and down slowly. “Now there’s an offer I bet not many stylists would refuse,” she joked. “I just might have to take you up on it and give you a revamp!”
“Funny one! I like what you did there.”
She smirked and he grinned back, itching to press his mouth to her smile. He wanted to crush her lips, feel her mouth open beneath his, their bodies meld like molten metal. Forget the tea party. Boston could turn out to be Party Central. She was a whole decade more attractive right now than ever. Perhaps she’d turn out to be his party girl after all.
His? Where had that come from?
Arms crossed, she chewed her bottom lip, measuring him up. Was it wishful thinking to imagine she was mentally undressing him?
Reason set in and he grasped his case. “I’d better go. See you anon.”
Outside, on the safe side of Maggie’s door, Alex stepped quickly back into the elevator. He needed to find his room, and then he’d find the gym. Every muscle in his body had tensed. He hadn’t expected to have feelings for Maggie, good, bad or indifferent. He’d been hoping to make sure their almost-sex-disaster-fest incident was all in the past. There was more than enough animosity between him and Nick without adding awkwardness with the stylist into the mix. The attraction that had flared up between him and Maggie was infernally inconvenient.
“Madly busy” summed up Maggie’s first day in Boston, which was just as well because it took her mind off Alex. Far from clearing things up and proving that they were both entirely different people at different places in their lives, meeting him again had given her an uneasy feeling that he wasn’t out of her system. She could fight it all she liked, but she’d been craving a little bit of Alex’s amazing sexual energy ever since he’d arranged her upgrade on the plane. That was ridiculous. She needed to focus on making him look great. Not that it would be a stretch. He was altogether too dreamy.
At noon she met Hannah, the photographer, at her converted warehouse studio, which was the base for the city shoot. After they’d discussed the brief, she put together the outfits, took Polaroid photos of them, and left everything ready on hanging rails.
She spent the rest of the day dashing around Boston picking up last-minute bits and bobs. Finally, she had a meeting with Natalie, the make-up artist, for a coffee and a quick chat about the looks she and Hannah were aiming for.
Anchored in a leather tub chair in a downtown coffee shop Maggie fought the buzz in her head planted there by Alex. The low hum of chatter filled her ears, and fresh aromas of newly ground beans swirled in the air. Normally she loved the smell, but she felt queasy. The prospect of working with the Wells brothers had turned into a witch’s brew of craziness that had set her nerves jangling.
“The magazine wants something dark and mysterious in keeping with the actors’ TV characters.” She took a quick sip of her decaf skinny latte. It tasted yuck, like she’d been chewing copper pennies. “It needs to be subtle,” she advised, setting down her cup and pushing it away. “Nothing too over-the-top.”
“Aw,” the make-up artist objected. “Let’s make ’em real spooky.”
“If you mean a trickle of fake blood dribbling from the corner of Alex Wells’ mouth, then no, I’m afraid not.” Maggie and Natalie laughed. “Pale and interesting is good, though. I have to warn you, it might be a bit of a challenge. I’ve met them already and they were both looking very tanned.”
Natalie was bursting with curiosity. “So what are they like? Have you worked with them before? I can’t wait.”
“I – um. No, I haven’t worked with them.” Natalie was so sweet and friendly that Maggie was tempted to tell her everything – all about how she knew Alex in a previous life.