The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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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.
“That’s a lame excuse. Postpone it. You can sleep next week. Besides, you’re my free single friend and I need a plus one for the red carpet.”
“What happened? Did somebody stand you up?” She tilted her chin challengingly.
He overlooked the dig. His gaze dipped unintentionally to the distracting amber pendant.
“I have a cameo in this movie. Along with Nick and Ella Swift. I don’t need a date. But I’d like it if you came along. It’ll be like tonight. Just friends.” Her hand rested on the table. He closed his fingers over hers. “I’ve only just found you again. I’m not ready to let you go.” A shiver ran down his spine.
She laughed off his comment. “I’d stick out like a sore thumb on the red carpet.”
“Rubbish. You’ll be superb.” He turned her hand over in his and traced a figure of eight on the palm. “Besides,” he continued, “With you around, Nick won’t be able to strangle me with the garlic.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“Say you’ll think about it. I’ve got to go to a charity event at the Empire State Building on Saturday night. It’s very glam. You’ll love it.”
Maggie’s eyes shone. She pulled him to his feet. “Come on.” Her sexy smile worked on him like a spell, and he began to wonder, not for the first time, if he’d actually be able to keep to the just-friends bargain. “I want to dance.” She dragged him across the empty diner to an old jukebox in a corner. He stifled a groan, knowing he’d set himself a heck of a challenge.
He peered at the song titles. “There are some seriously old 45s in there.”
“All 45s are seriously old. Got a quarter?”
Alex dug in his pocket and handed her a coin. He watched the concentration on her face as she chose a record and posted his quarter in the slot. The music started slow, his arms closed around her and he pulled her close, looked down into her upturned face and placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead. She smiled and spun out of his hold as the tempo picked up, dancing and singing along like she used to do when they were students.
When the music stopped he planted himself between her and the jukebox, refusing to let her avoid his gaze.
“It’s just a weekend. Come to New York.”
“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “It’s a bit spur of the moment.”
Not used to having to work too hard to get a yes out of someone, and equally unused to hearing no, he wasn’t about to give up.
“Spur of the moment’s what you do. Spontaneity’s your specialty. Or – it used to be before you decided to try for a donor baby at twenty-nine …”
That was the wrong thing to say. Momentarily she froze.
“Look, I’d like to come, but I can’t.” A shimmer of awareness zapped between them. Bad timing. “I’d love to go to New York with you. It sounds fantastic. But I have to focus on the future. I’m going home to find out if I’m pregnant.”
“One. Week. End.” He said the words slowly as if that would mesmerize her into saying yes. “When the baby comes you’ll have someone else to think about for the next eighteen years.”
“A baby’s a lifetime commitment, not a life sentence.”
“Sure.” He applauded her positivity, her determination to make her dreams happen. “That’s why, this one time, it’s not going to hurt to live for the moment.”
His father acted like a wife and kids were a prison he had to escape from. Doesn’t Count On Location was Drake Wells’ mantra. His conquests might