Читать книгу The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection - Jane Linfoot, Zara Stoneley - Страница 19

Maggie stood on the red carpet under the lighted canopy of the New York movie theater and breathed in. Flashes exploded all around. She felt for all the world like a princess. It was practically an out-of-body experience.

In her incredible skyscraper heels her head reached above Alex’s shoulder for once. Even so, when they paused to pose for the cameras, several inches of scarlet silk made a puddle at her feet.

Alex looked as unreal as she felt. At home on the red carpet, he sizzled – every inch a star. Presenters and journalists vied for the celebrities’ attention. Maggie fired off smiles in all directions, as if she’d been born to it. Inside, her heart was beating like crazy. The phrase “deer in the headlights” sprang to mind. It didn’t come close to covering how she felt behind the paparazzi-ready smile. What she lacked in savoir faire, Alex made up for. He had enough confidence for them both.

“Alex Wells, over here!”

Alex, Alex, Alex. His name rang in her ears. Devoted fans and vaguely interested passersby leaned across the barriers holding up phones, capturing him for their social media pages.

“Alex, Kerry Sheldon – Manhattan Tonight Show – can I have a word?”

Alex took Maggie’s hand and stopped in front of a television camera. His fingers touching hers sent waves of heat pulsing through her. She smiled affably as Alex chatted away, charming the pants off the presenter. Maggie’s fixed smile had started to make her feel like a Barbie doll, when all of a sudden the focus turned to her.

The presenter shoved a microphone in her face and shot a question at her. “Magenta Plumtree – who are you wearing tonight?”

“Me? Ohhh …” She glanced around in a daze. Oh my. “This is Amandine Kendal.” She struggled to hide the tremble in her voice.

“And tell me, Magenta, did you style yourself for this evening’s premiere?” A supercilious note in the presenter’s voice made her suspicious. “Red on the red carpet. That’s a brave look to pull off for a lady who’s never walked the red carpet before!” Maggie gulped. Was she being got at by this pushy woman? She’d smarmed the words out making her insult sound as if it had been intended as a compliment. Normally so far behind the scenes, Maggie had never had to deal with any of this mad palaver before. She hesitated, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

That instant she felt Alex’s strong arm slide protectively around her waist. Feeling him close, helping keep her nerves steady, she floated on air. “I styled Magenta tonight,” he cut in, rescuing her just in time. “She’s here as my guest.” He glared directly into the camera with the full potency of his blue irises. “She looks fabulous.” He turned and moved away, his arm tightly banded around Maggie. “If you’ll excuse us, please, we’ve got a movie to see.”

As he swept her away from the cameras into the lobby, Maggie caught a glimpse of the presenter’s face. Stunned, she was now the one doing the goldfish impression. Alex dipped his head, his mouth so whisperingly close to her ear that she sensed the heat of his breath on her neck. “You look amazing.”

Inside, the place was a huge movie palace with chandeliers, gold trimmings, red walls, and plush red carpets. Who knew she’d blend so easily in red?

A waiter approached with a tray of champagne. Alex took two flutes and went to hand one to Maggie. She shook her head, shrugging apologetically.

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” He put both glasses back and lifted two sparkling-water-filled flutes from another passing tray.”

“Good old fizzy water.”

“Cheers.” He clinked Maggie’s glass with his and smiled at her in a way that made her already wobbly stomach slosh like a washing machine on the delicates cycle. “Listen. We don’t have to stay, you know. We can do the rounds and slip off before the movie starts.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Yes we can. The stars will be doing it. They’ll do a little spiel at the beginning and by the time it’s over they’ll be happily downing cocktails in some hip bar, or halfway to LA, or London, or wherever they’re doing their next promo. Believe me, they don’t always stay to watch the movie.”

A weird, flat feeling befuddled Maggie. “Do you mean to say that I’ve spent virtually the entire day getting dolled up like a dog’s dinner just to step onto the red carpet and leave? I don’t even get to see the film?” Alex gave her a very sexy grin. “What?”

She could have sworn she heard him mutter “lucky dog”. She felt her skin start to glow in a shade that almost certainly matched her outfit perfectly.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll stay and watch the movie. I haven’t seen it yet. We made it about a year and a half ago. For all I know, the bit with me in ended up on the cutting-room floor.”

“Hardly,” she pointed out, “If you and Nick weren’t in it, they wouldn’t expect you to be here all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, now would they?”

“All what?” Alex laughed. “It’s not an animation, Maggie. I’m not some woodland creature.”

“Well, okay then, let me rephrase that – looking all sultry and sexy – the way you do. Better?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “It might be if I thought you meant it.”

“Well, I do mean it. Just not in a proactive, I want to go to bed with you, kind of way.” Liar! “More in a helping out an old mate who happened to need a plus one for a film premiere kind of a way – and he happens to be looking pretty flipping …” She couldn’t find an appropriate, non-committal, not-interested-in-that-way word. “Dapper.”

“Dapper!” Alex scoffed, over-doing the British accent. He glanced about the room furtively. “I say, old bean. Look at all these dapper chaps. Are we in a period drama? Spiffing!”

If it wouldn’t have put her in danger of toppling off her high heels, Maggie would have aimed a kick at one of his designer-clad shins. Fortunately an announcement distracted her.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The disembodied voice was very grand. “Please take your seats for the New York Premiere of The Magician of Arden.”

Exactly as Alex predicted, the stars of the movie introduced the film and promptly vanished. Maggie had styled many important clients, but being a guest at the same event as these one-hundred-per-cent million-dollar Hollywood people took her breath away – even if they did disappear in a puff of smoke the minute the lights went down.

When the film began Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He and Maggie had been placed next to Nick and their co-star Ella from Mercy of the Vampires. Nick and Ella made an appearance towards the end of the movie, but Alex’s cameo came right at the beginning and he was dreading seeing himself on the big screen. The thought of having to view his performance under the scrutiny of a cinema fit to burst with celebrities and media people was excruciating. He totally got why the leading actors preferred to duck out early – quite apart from the brain freeze of having to watch their own movie far too many times than was good for you.

Stunning, Maggie looked the part – the perfect mystery hot date. He was glad she’d come to New York. She was easy to be with. She didn’t play games, manipulate. He could get to like this friends thing – if it wasn’t such a challenge to his libido. This weekend was about closing an unfinished chapter, not starting something new.

He wanted to be cool with her donor-baby decision. His own feelings, not knowing who his biological father was, colored his view. She didn’t believe in one man forever, but what if that changed? What if Maggie found The One? Would he love her child? Or would he be the baby’s dad on sufferance? He’d assured her that Mr. Right was out there. But what if he came along for a while, only to give up and abandon them like Drake had done. His mother had lost the plot, an emotional wreck, unable to haul herself back from a broken heart, incapable of being responsible for two small children.

He’d been watching the screen, taking in nothing that was happening up there as the whirlpool of concerns for Maggie spun in his head, when he twigged that this was his moment.

He leant close and whispered in her ear. “Okay, get ready, this is my bit.” Her hair looked different up. It brushed his face, as soft as the silken threads in the fabric of her way-too-sexy dress. Her signature perfume, wild flowers, stirred him.

She touched his forearm, reassuringly. “Brace yourself!” Typical. There was no hiding anything from her. She’d picked up on his lack of interest in watching himself. She’d always been good at reading him.

He was looming like a human elephant on the big screen when Maggie clutched tightly at his sleeve. A sideways glance in the darkness confirmed that all was not well. While one hand tugged at his arm, she clasped the other firmly over her mouth.

“Maggie? Are you going to throw up? I didn’t think my performance was that bad.”

Maggie nodded frantically and dragged him to his feet. They squeezed out of the row of seats past Nick and Ella and headed for the exit as fast as Maggie’s feet in her stilettos would allow them.

As she made a dash for the restroom one high heel caught in a hot-air heating grid in the floor and snapped. Disastrously, as she stumbled to keep her balance, the other heel tangled in her excessively long dress. There was a horrendous rip and a tear wrenched up the seam, exposing one shapely leg.

She ploughed on in her state of disarray. When she burst through the door of the Ladies he followed right along, watching in dismay as she leant over a washbasin and vomited.

Great!

She remained doubled over the sink and ran the water. Less than useless, he stepped forward and touched her soft, bare shoulders lightly. He massaged the nape of her neck while she washed her face. He passed her a paper towel.

Maggie stood up straight. She was pale and wide-eyed and her fancy up-styled hair resembled a disheveled bird’s nest. “Sorry.”

“I’d have thought if anyone was going to throw up it would be me. I’m the one who should be sick with nerves.”

“As if!” Her eyes glinted. A faint smile played on her lips. “Morning sickness, I’m afraid.”

“It’s half past nine at night.”

“It’s a figure of speech. I read up about it. First-trimester nausea can happen any time of the day. I guess I’m a night-sickness person.” She shrugged.

“Okay now?” He stopped rubbing her neck, wrapped his arms round her and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder. He rested his chin on the top of her head. She felt more like a waif than the glamorous woman he’d walked into the cinema with earlier that evening.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Shall we go back in? I’m fine now.”

“Nah.” There was a lightness about being with Maggie. He felt like a student bunking off from a lecture. “Let’s not bother.”

“I want to see what happens.”

Her eye make-up had smudged, making her eyes bigger than ever. Bare-shouldered, she looked pale and vulnerable, and he didn’t want to stop holding her. A loose wisp of hair fell across her face. He pushed it behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek as he did so. A tiny diamond earring glimmered in her earlobe. “I’ll send you the DVD when it comes out.” He’d been selfish expecting her to be his plus one at this event. He’d been thinking about himself when he’d struck this bargain with her. Some friend. He released her from his arms. Reluctantly.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. The hotel’s only a couple of blocks. And you could use some fresh air. We can walk.”

Maggie gathered two fistfuls of scarlet fabric and lifted the hem of her dress, revealing two slender ankles and feet with toes painted in the same shade as her fingernails, in shoes that, even with one broken heel, made his pulse race. He was quite sure this wasn’t the effect she’d intended.

She slipped out of the shoes and picked them up. “I can’t walk anywhere in these.” Without the help of the heels, the ripped dress created an even bigger pool of fabric on the floor. “The designer will be apoplectic when she finds out what I’ve done to his dress.” She gave a dismal sigh. “I’ll never work again.”

“There’s no need to be so melodramatic.” He held up a finger. “Wait right here.”

Deflated, Maggie looked around the Ladies. There was nothing to sit on. In a place like this she’d have expected a velvet-covered chaise longue at the very least. She went into one of the cubicles, lowered the toilet lid and sat on it. This was a far cry from the way the evening had begun, arriving in a stretch limo to the adulation of the press.

She felt ropey, and out of her depth making a fool of herself in Alex’s A-list world, but deep down she was certain of one thing. Starting a brand-new family was the right way to go. Her friends were holding out for the fairy tale. That was fine for them. She wished them luck. Maggie knew that there was no point. She’d given it a go; it hadn’t worked out. Alex was wrong. There was no guy out there in the world just waiting for her to find him. That’s why she was getting on with having a baby. With a dad who wasn’t there when the baby was conceived. It was a top solution. She wouldn’t have to deal with any more Marcus-style rubbish.

After a wait that felt like an eternity, a forthright knock on the restroom door made her jump, “Alex?”

He marched in. “Here.” He handed her a plastic bag with the name of a souvenir store on it. “Change into these.”

She pulled out an I Heart NY t-shirt and some leggings emblazoned with stars and stripes. “It’s all they had,” he said, completely unapologetic. “I’ll wait outside.”

“Wait. What about shoes?”

“You’ll have to go barefoot.”

She began to protest “How am I supposed to walk without …?”

He cut her off. “Hurry up. I’ve got us some transport.”

The tee was extra extra-large. What was he thinking? She studied herself in a full-length mirror and pulled out the excess material, trying to imagine how she would look when she was nine months pregnant. Perhaps he’d been thinking ahead with the size choice. She eyed herself with displeasure.

Harrumphing with annoyance, she left the restroom and went to join Alex in the red and gold lobby. Barefoot, in stars and stripes leggings, she felt like such a letdown until she saw Alex and her heart cartwheeled. He was wearing a matching I Heart NY tee over his dress shirt. He cloaked his jacket around her shoulders, took her by the hand, laced his fingers into hers, and together they walked out of the movie theater to stand in the full glare of the canopy lighting.

A photographer appeared out of nowhere and pop, they’d been papped.

Maggie groaned. “See what you’ve done?” She splayed her arms in exasperation. Her balled-up designer dress dangled in the plastic souvenir store bag and the shoes that would make many women green with envy swung nonchalantly on the end of one of Alex’s long fingers. Apart from the broken heel, they looked quite attractive there. “If anyone’s crazy enough to publish that, it’ll do wonders for my reputation.”

Alex laughed.

The cheek. When she’d accepted Alex’s invitation, she’d been hoping that any publicity that came out of this weekend might raise her profile, get her noticed, and help her land a TV styling job she had her eye on back in the UK. It was one of her new projects, something she hardly dared pin her hopes on. When she’d said yes to Alex she’d been counting on a side order of glamorous press photos.

“Where’s the taxi?” There was a noticeable absence of yellow cabs, but a Central Park horse and carriage stood at the curb. Alex scooped her up into his arms. Caught by surprise, she had no alternative but to twist her arms around his neck. Held against his chest, his strong biceps tensed, she felt as light as a bag of popcorn.

“Your carriage awaits.” He carried her to the curbside and hoisted her into the horse-drawn carriage. Her eyes must have looked like they’d popped out on stalks. Dressed like a twenty-first century Cinderella after midnight, she ruefully imagined that any minute the carriage would revert to being a pumpkin, the driver would become a frog and the white horse would turn into a rat. She shivered.

A flash popped relentlessly. The rogue paparazzo was still lurking somewhere in the vicinity.

“Where’s security when you need them?” Alex grumbled ironically.

“Gone to call the police department, I shouldn’t wonder. What possessed you? You’ll get us arrested.”

Alex chuckled. Maggie’s mind churned. So much for her trademark fashion-conscious, but unremarkable, image.

“Magenta Plumtree – who styled you this evening?” She mimicked the voice of the presenter who’d interviewed them earlier. “Who designed your tacky leggings and the fabulous outsize t-shirt?”

“It’ll probably be on the internet by the time we get back to the hotel.”

“That’s not helping.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

The carriage driver made a clicking noise with his tongue, snapped the reins and the horse clip-clopped forward. The sudden movement unbalanced her. She wobbled. Alex’s arm slipped around her. The electric sensation of his warm body next to hers was enough to make her delirious. She ignored the pool of sweet heat at her core. She opted to argue with him. It was safer ground than facing how hot all that hard muscle and handsomeness was. And how overwhelmingly attractive she found him.

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m a stylist, for flip’s sake. Fashion’s what I do. Why do you think I work so hard to stick with a neutral image? It’s not an accident, you know. It’s to keep my image low-profile. That way I can concentrate on giving clients my full fashion focus.”

“Relax. There’s nothing wrong with your fashion focus. Everyone loves what you do.” His eyes glittered. “We’re having an I Heart New York moment.”

“You don’t get it. I’ve just been photographed on a red carpet with a big-name celebrity looking like a tourist who just happened to be passing by and fancied getting a photo souvenir. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, now, for the icing on the cake, you’ve got us trotting around Manhattan in a horse and carriage making a spectacle of ourselves. I’m going to look ridiculous if this goes up on the net. Is hi-jacking a horse and carriage from Central Park even legal? We’ll more than likely end up spending the night locked in a police cell. You’ll not be splitting your sides laughing then.”

“I thought you could use some air and I wanted you to feel comfortable. That’s not exactly a crime.” Her heart fluttered. He’d done the best he could to be considerate – even if the I Heart NY t-shirt and hallucinogenic leggings did fall well short of the mark. “It didn’t occur to me that anyone would notice. Let alone a pap. I thought they’d all gone.”

She’d made a complete shambles of the night. An uncontrollable urge to giggle bubbled up inside her. She squashed it. “I guess I’m not cut out for this red-carpet stuff.”

Maggie shut Alex out. Had saying yes to this New York extravaganza been a huge mistake? The sounds, the lights, the non-stop pace of the city viewed from a hi-jacked horse-drawn carriage felt exciting and lovely – and bizarre. Never mind I Heart New York. She was having a Cinderella-gone-horribly-wrong moment.