The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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Maggie’s stomach. They were the full-package family – yummy mummy, baby in a ditsy flower dress, too-cute toddler in a dinosaur t-shirt, a grumpy older kid with sneakers and a kid-sized back-pack. And a dad to complete their picture.
Maggie hugged the penguin and watched as Alex took charge of the first photo shoot in a week that wasn’t of him.
“Say cheese,” he coaxed smiles out of the family. “Fromage? Queso?”
“Cheese,” they chorused, with the exception of the sullen boy in sneakers, who could give Jago a run for his money, and the baby, who blew dribble bubbles winsomely.
The photo shoot done, Alex surprised Maggie, and everyone else for that matter, when he transformed from temporary photographer into impromptu magician. With sleight of hand he produced first one quarter, then another, out of thin air, and two more from behind Sneaker Boy’s ears, finally eliciting a reluctant smile.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Maggie asked, delighted.
“My dad taught me.” Alex frowned. “Right before he left. It took me two years to master it. I practiced on Nick.” He looked abashed. He laughed. “I never got the chance to show him that I’d got the hang of it.”
Maggie smiled. “Well, it’s coming in handy now.”
Recognition suddenly dawned on the faces of the parents.
“Are you?”
“Is he?”
“Alex Wells? Yes – he is,” Maggie confirmed.
The woman clapped her hands excitedly and together the couple exclaimed, “Jago!”
By the time they all parted, after another quick photo call to include the yummy mummy’s favorite vampire, everyone was smiling – even Alex.
Towards the end of the afternoon Alex hailed a yellow taxi and took Maggie and the giant penguin to Bloomingdales.
“What are we doing here?”
“We’ve got shopping to do.”
“Shopping’s what I do best. It’s practically my career.” She frowned, puzzled. “Frankly, it’s a bit of a busman’s holiday in my time off.”
“It’s my mother’s charity gala tonight. You need something to wear to the ball, Cinderella.”
Maggie stopped in her tracks. New York’s pedestrians diverted around her, as if she, Alex, and the penguin were rocks in a stream.
“After last night’s fiasco I think I’d prefer to stay holed up at the hotel in front of the TV with my friend here.” She jabbed a finger at the penguin. “I don’t think I’m cut out for all this red-carpet palaver.”
“I’d like you to come.” He pulled off his sunglasses and spiked a hand through his dark hair. “The event’s being held at the Empire State Building. It’s an excellent place to end our day in New York. The dinner guests get access to the observatory.” Maggie didn’t budge. “Come on, Maggie. Work with me here. What can I say to tempt you?”
Despite her reservations, Maggie was tempted. Ve-ry tempted.
“On your own head be it. Don’t blame me if I jinx another high-profile occasion.”
“Excuse me for thinking that you’d like to come. That you might actually – heaven forbid – enjoy it.”
“There’s no need to be snarky.” Truthfully, it sounded like a lovely evening. She’d get a second chance to prove to herself that she could be the perfect date, and to the world in general that she could do that front-of-camera stuff as well as the next person. After last night’s mishaps it was a wonder he hadn’t stuck her on the first flight out of here already. But Alex styling her for the second night in a row was a step too far. She couldn’t risk appearing in red again. Or pink.
“I’ll come with you on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I style myself.”
He put his shades back on. “It’s a deal. Lead on, Macduff.” Maggie smiled at the much- misquoted line from Macbeth. Alex was going to make an awesome Hamlet. In a few weeks’ time the London theater reviews would be raving about him. Alex Wells would be the hottest ticket in town. And not just for his versatility as an actor. “Just one thing, though … I think I should mention … It’s a kind of tradition … A little matter of a color coordination thing that Cassandra insists on …”
Maggie was off. She wasn’t even listening. She waved a dismissive hand. She’d had all the color coordination she could take. She couldn’t face another red-on-the-red-carpet situation.
“I’m wearing black. It’s what I do.”
Inside the store Maggie shopped like a fashion missile. She targeted a shimmering black sequined sheath dress with a demure neckline and a back scooped seductively low. It came from the collection of a stylist turned designer. It was exactly right with a shadowy graphite and black zebra print that she loved. Both sexy and subtle. She’d no idea if she could pull it off, but she was flipping well going to try.
Next she went in search of shoes. She found a gorgeous pair of black-satin stilettos that she could actually walk in. They were fab, with a lovely ribbon detail at the ankles.
Last thing, she headed to the lingerie department. Not convinced by the adhesive options for backless dresses, she opted for braless. She was done inside of an hour and most of that was spent waiting for one sales assistant to meticulously pack the dress while another one provided a chair for the penguin and made a production of processing Alex’s credit card. Judging by the moony looks on their faces Maggie suspected that they were taking their time just to keep him from leaving.
She mentally pinched herself. All day Alex had been doing a convincingly good impression of the perfect man. She’d do well to remember that perfect men didn’t exist. He wasn’t into her. He wanted a stylist. Not that he needed one. For tonight, she’d be concentrating her efforts on her own style. There would be no more Cinderella-gone-wrong scenes on the streets of New York, not if she could help it. She couldn’t make any more of a fool of herself than she already had. Was there a chance that this time she could actually get it right? There was only one way to find out.
What on earth was she doing in there? At this rate getting ready for the gala event was going to take Maggie even longer than it had the previous night with stylist Edwina and her hair and make-up team on hand to string the palaver out.
Alex glared at the laptop screen while he waited for her to emerge from her half of the hotel suite. Who knew Maggie would be such a stickler for her “I-only-wear-black” thing? He’d thought she’d enjoy being styled for once. Not a bit of it. She hadn’t liked being taken over. And with good reason, as it turned out. He was staring at the result. On the internet, the red-carpet pictures were great, but in the ones of the two of them leaving the premiere he looked more like a comic turn than a serious actor. As for Maggie – she wasn’t going to thank him when she saw herself all over the celebrity news pages looking like a fashion disaster. And she’d be shocked for her pregnancy to be announced to the world this way. Seeing her personal news on the laptop he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He wished he’d taken better care to protect her privacy. He’d no idea how word of Maggie’s pregnancy had got out. That press favorite “the source” was mentioned. That was probably a chambermaid who’d found the packaging from the umpteen pregnancy tests in the hotel bin. He should have been more discreet.
He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes. The night had gone into a nosedive and the photographic evidence was out there. The media wreckage amounted to a “pregnant former flame”. The headlines were ridiculous. “Baby Surprise