Читать книгу The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection - Jane Linfoot, Zara Stoneley - Страница 18

“Two people can’t get together after a decade and expect things to start over as if they’d pressed an invisible pause button.”

Alex and Nick were jogging in Central Park. In shorts, tees, dark shades and baseball caps nobody paid them any attention. They were just two guys – running. Balmy September sunshine dappled the trees with light and shade. Only a few paint-box spatters of yellow and red amongst the green hinted at the fall colors to come. Nick was in an upbeat mood. He’d tied up his movie deal. Finally, he and Alex were on the same page. He’d conceded that Alex’s leaving Mercy had pulled the plug on the show at precisely the right time.

“Correct me if I’m wrong. She’s based London. So are you. And you used to have the hots for each other.”

“Promise me that if the movie roles dry up you won’t take up professional match-making.”

“Why not?”

“She’s having a donor-sperm baby.”

Nick’s mouth gaped. “Man. What are the chances? Why’s she done that?”

“Because she wants to.”

Alex didn’t add because she doesn’t believe in The One. He’d already said too much. His stride lengthened. He ran as if he was trying to get away from something. Nick matched his pace. Somewhere through the trees he heard the shrieks of happy children coming from the adventure playground. They got closer and he could see that kids were splashing about in a water feature. They jogged on, only to find themselves circumnavigating the tots’ playground, where cute babies dangled in bucket swings and tiny kids toddled about in the sandbox. He didn’t usually notice kids unless they were going feral in a restaurant or screaming on a plane. Suddenly, they were everywhere – being cute.

“You used to be pretty into her.”

Alex drained the bottle of mineral water he was carrying and tossed the empty into a trash can. Nick seemed contrite, but he knew his brother well. If he could use a piece of information to his advantage, he probably would.

“The past is a no-go zone.”

“You’re not hooking up, then?”

“There’s no going back to zero.”

“That’s too bad. She’s awesome. And she’s good at what she does. She was in her element in Boston.” Alex ran faster, so Nick shouted after him, “Since honesty is the order of the day, if I’m not mistaken, she’s still into you.”

Alex suppressed his smile. He looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t go there.”

Nick ignored the warning.

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You and Maggie are on separate paths.”

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 soft 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.