Читать книгу The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection - Jane Linfoot, Zara Stoneley - Страница 28

On the day of Alex’s first night Maggie decided it was time for a re-style.

She called a snazzy West End hair salon. Hooray. One of the stylists had a cancellation. She booked herself in and went straight over. She had a couple of inches cut off her hair, plus a sweepy fringe and highlights.

It had been ages since she’d done a shop-till-you-drop session for herself. She knew exactly what she wanted. Color. Out with the grey and black. In with the colors of the season. First off she bought herself a fab pair of boots in dark-green suede. With those dreamy little numbers in a carrier bag, the rest had been a piece of cake. Alex’s first night was an excellent excuse to splash out. No more blending into the background. She spent her life putting the glamor and color into other people’s wardrobes. It was high time for some va-va-voom of her own. She’d been using monochrome as her personal style-mask. Alex had given her the confidence to be happy with herself again, to trust her instincts. From now on she planned to dress how she liked, express her personality through color, be her authentic self, with no need to hide behind black, white and grey every day. After her shopping spree Maggie headed home to her tiny apartment in Battersea. She had so much to think about and plan for. Just for tonight, she decided to put it all on hold.

Tonight would be everything Alex had dreamt of. Nick and he had got over their bust-up over Mercy of the Vampires ending. He’d stopped wanting to disown Jago, accepted that if he hadn’t spent the last ten years playing the character, he’d never in a month of Sundays have landed this theater role.

It had been over a week since the night she’d spent at his apartment, and her best efforts had gone into sorting out her feelings about him. He’d been busy. He’d sent texts and a couple of heart-stoppingly funny photos. There’d been a technical run and a dress rehearsal. He’d be in his element – apart from the promo. Her heart flipped. Her head was struggling with the fact that she was in the “friend” zone, and her emotions were in the danger zone.

When the time came to get ready, she had a bad case of butterflies. She lined up a row of nail-varnish bottles. What would be the perfect color? She couldn’t decide on one, so she chose five that coordinated with the shades in her not-like-any-animal-known-to-zoologists pink and green leopard-ish-print skirt. She carefully painted each fingernail, a different color on each one matched to its counterpart on the other hand.

Alex would be on a high after the show. They’d probably both say polite things about not losing touch. She doubted that friends could work. It had been a slippery slope. Once she’d allowed Alex to steal like warm sunshine through the chinks in her emotional mask there’d been no way of going back. Re-finding her friend, finishing their long-overdue fling and going back to square one of their friendship had turned out to be more difficult than she’d thought.

She’d enjoyed the ride. But the longer she stuck around the more likely she was to end up saying something she’d regret. Like I love you. The worst thing she could possibly do would be to ask for something she couldn’t have. Something he wasn’t able to give her. He would never love her back.

She slicked on a layer of confidence-boosting lip gloss, gave herself a squirt of her new zingy perfume, grabbed her handbag and the keys to her apartment and set off for the theater. She needed to lose Alex again. And she planned to tell him soon. Would the Hamlet after-party be too soon? He’d probably be relieved. He’d be off the hook. No more scares and no more talking her down from the ceiling. Not that she’d be freaking out again. She’d got her act together.

Alex was fantastic as Hamlet. After the performance she almost got cold feet. She was tempted to slink off home and send him a polite excuse and congrats by text. He was a magnet. She couldn’t just skulk away and de-friend him. She needed to be strong and tell him face to face.

The first-night party was a far cry from the New York movie premiere and Cassandra’s gala dinner. It was a chilled-out do in the understated theater bar. Most people hadn’t even bothered to dress up, least of all the actors, and the director was wearing a moth-eaten old sweater and faded jeans with rips that definitely hadn’t been put there by a designer.

Maggie strutted in to the after-party wearing her brand-new green-suede boots, circulated, made small talk with complete strangers, and held her head high until Nick spotted her.

“Maggie. Looking good, darling.” They air-kissed. “You’ve had something done. Did you get a boob job?”

“I changed my hair.” She shrugged. “Highlights.”

“You’re different, though.” He put a hand to his chin and gave her his undivided consideration. “I know what it is. You got color.”

“I’m not Monochrome Magenta anymore.”

“Monochrome Magenta? Really?” He gave her a hug. “I’ve no idea who she is, but you were never that to me.”

Maggie smiled. “London’s so grey. I had to do something,” she joked. She was doing a good job of covering up the jittery feeling she had waiting to see Alex. “I took it upon myself to brighten the place up.”

“Go Maggie!”

Nick drained the contents of his champagne flute and plucked another from a passing tray. “What are you drinking?”

Maggie pulled a face. “Organic elderflower and melon cocktail.”

“Yum. Get you a refill?” Maggie shook her head. Nick lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You and Alex caused quite a stir in New York. What’s the story? Are you and he …?”

Maggie blushed. “We’re friends.”

“What’s with you two and this ‘friends’ thing? You’re single. He’s single. You’ve obviously still got the hots for each other. ”

Maggie couldn’t believe her ears. “Nick? Are you matchmaking?”

He laughed. “You’ve sussed me. That’s why I persuaded the people at the magazine to book you for the Boston shoot. Not that they needed persuading. They were happy to oblige.”

“What are you talking about?” She’d had masses of compliments on the photos they’d done, but she felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her. “What am I not getting?”

Nick forked a hand into his blonde hair. His brown eyes pinned her with intensity. “Alex missed his moment with you once before. I thought I’d give you guys a helping hand – a shot at another chance.” He knocked back his champagne. “You two are avoiding each other like the plague. That’s the thanks I get!”

Her heart felt too big for her chest cavity. She knew the way she got that job at the last minute was odd. “Hang on a minute. Let’s rewind this conversation. Are you telling me that I didn’t get hired for those shoots by accident? You arranged it?”

The horror in her rising tone wasn’t lost on Nick. “If I was wide of the mark, I apologize,” he said solemnly. “I promise you. It was well meant.”

Maggie shook her head and sighed. “What were you thinking?” Clearly he wouldn’t have done it if he’d had a crystal ball. “How could you? I mean, I get that you wanted to do something nice for Alex, but having me turn up like the Ghost of Christmas Past is a bit of risk compared to a basket of muffins.” Nick looked repentant. She should be furious. Quite apart from anything else, her pregnancy hadn’t been factored into his scheming. Thanks to his meddling, her heart was in a mess. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. “Your timing’s awful!” Her jokey tone masked sadness that sluiced through her veins. “I’m having twins.”

“Twins?” Nick gawped. He lowered his eyes to her belly. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Who’s having twins?” Cassandra’s interjection made Maggie jump.

“Maggie is.”

“With donor sperm, I hear. Congratulations, dear. I can’t recommend donor insemination highly enough. And twins! Look at the two dreamboats I got.” She clinked glasses with Nick and winked at Maggie.

Confusion swirled in the air and tied her tongue in a knot. Alex’s family was too much. They’d hit her with a double whammy. As if Nick’s admission that he’d plotted to throw her and Alex together wasn’t bad enough, she was struggling to decipher what their mother had just come out with.

“By the way, I’m sorry I was rude to you in New York,” Cassandra gushed. “That grandma business was quite a shock.”

“My fault, I’m afraid.” Although, strictly speaking, Nick was to blame for turning them all into press fodder, Maggie graciously accepted culpability. “Sorry.” She was still trying to get her head around Cassandra’s revelation. Was Alex donor-conceived?

“Don’t apologize. Actually, I’d gotten to quite like the idea when Alex told me he’s not the dad. Go figure.”

Nick, contrition still stamped on his face, spotted someone he wanted to speak to and darted off, leaving her stranded with Cassandra. She’d been at the party for the best part of an hour and she hadn’t even said hello to Alex yet. Desperation set in. The minute she got a chance, she’d say hi and congratulations, then she’d leave. After everything she’d just heard she was ready to put her plan to distance herself straight into action.

Cassandra unnerved Maggie. “One word of warning.” She held up a ruby-taloned index finger. “Advice, really.” Her tone softened and she tapped the nail against her glass. “Make sure you tell your kids the truth. Right from the start. Don’t keep anything from them. I made that mistake. I kept my boys in the dark, used the fact that Drake wasn’t their real dad to get at him. I …” She corrected herself. “We hurt them.” There was real remorse beneath her air of superficiality. “Now they’re hung up on not knowing who they really are.”

Maggie’s heart thudded. Misery seeped through the cracks in her outwardly cheerful appearance. Alex knew exactly who he was – a no-commitment, no-strings guy.

Cassandra twiddled her champagne flute distractedly. “Wasn’t Alex a marvel? It’s like Shakespeare could have written the Hamlet role especially for him.” Maggie stifled a hysterical guffaw. She didn’t want to snort organic elderflower and melon. “He always wanted to be just like Drake, despite his genes. I think he can safely say that tonight he’s proved himself.”

Maggie was intrigued by the woman Cassandra had been – attention-seeking, broken-hearted, needy, hooked on drugs and alcohol. Her heart went out to the little boys at the center of that mess. Was that chaos what drove Alex’s determination to be the perfect son, the reliable brother? He never talked much about his dad. Now she understood why. No wonder he’d been thrown by her wanting a donor-sperm baby. He must despise her choice. She wished he hadn’t kept it from her. Apparently his mother assumed he trusted her enough to have told her. Her confidence sank, realizing that he didn’t.

Cassandra’s partner descended like a bird of prey, “Darling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He whisked her away.

Maggie looked for a place to set her glass. She found a table crammed with glassware and rejected canapés. She put it there. Right above the table was an enormous poster of Alex in Elizabethan costume, angst-ridden, and still sexy as hell. Sexier maybe. Who’d have thought he’d carry off the doublet-and-hose look so well? No doubt she’d soon be seeing his face plastered all over digital advertising screens on the escalators in the Underground, a weird memento of their New York fling.

Tonight Alex was a rare species, glimpsed across a vast, crowded space.

Isolated from the chat and laughter, alone in the crowd, her head throbbed. Emptiness crashed through her like a wave pounding a Cornish beach out of a wintry sea. Suddenly she knew where she wanted to be. She had to get out of London. She turned to go and walked smack into the barrier of Alex’s rock-face chest.

“Woah!” His arms shot out as if to catch her, banded strongly around her and drew her into a hug. “How did you like the play?” The deep timbre of his voice speaking just to her made her wobbly. She did her best not to look in his electric-blue eyes.

“Fantastic. I kind of nearly nodded off once, during that bit with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Act Two. I never get what they’re about. Spies, or students, or something, right? Otherwise, it was great.”

Alex laughed. “I’m glad you came.” He tore his eyes away from her face. “Guildenstern is over there with Cassandra. I’ll introduce you to him if you like. I’m sure he’d be happy to enlighten you.”

“No thanks.” She risked a full-on take of his gorgeousness. His traffic-stopping smile infected her with deep heat. In spite of herself, a smile grew from her heart and broke onto her face. “You were good, though.”

The room buzzed. Alex was still on an adrenaline high. People had been patting him on the back and telling him he was wonderful for the last hour. Weirdly, Maggie’s opinion was the one that counted most. She’d been there for him when he was Alex the wannabe. Her approval mattered above all others.

“How’ve you been?”

“Good.” The conversation stalled.

She looked stunning. Better even than he remembered.

“You look different.”

“Different good? Or different bad?”

“Different…” Accosted by a couple of luvvy types, he lost the chance to find the right word to tell her that the moment he’d set eyes on her that evening a lightning strike of desire had torn through him and he’d been aching to be alone with her ever since.

“Alex, you were fabulous.”

“Marvelous.”

“Your Hamlet’s wicked.” A third girl joined the group drawn to Alex like bees to a tree in blossom.

Maggie didn’t fade away. She stood her ground. Poised. Patient. She waited for the onslaught of hugs and kisses to subside.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. I need to talk to you – alone.” He placed his hand low against her back. Sexual tension zapped him, like two planets colliding. He broke the connection and held the theater door open for her to step through, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t his attraction to Maggie making him high, it was the first-night buzz.

Outside they walked in silence until they reached the Millennium Bridge and stood looking at the lights reflected on the River Thames, watched over by the spectral white shape of St. Paul’s Cathedral dome lit up against the dark sky.

By heaven! I yearn to kiss her. It wasn’t first-night euphoria after all, but he really should get out of character. He ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her beautiful lips until the sun came up over London. Or take her back to his penthouse apartment and make crazy, stupid love to her. Was that so impossible? It was, if he was to stick to his decision.

“I’ve been thinking.” A chill October wind whistled across the bridge. He searched Maggie’s face. Her brows knitted.

“Alex, why didn’t you tell me you were donor-conceived?”

It was the barb that had lacerated his heart, the weapon his father used every time he’d threatened to disown his sons.

“Because I didn’t want to dump my hang-ups on you. I don’t know who my dad is.” He paused, wary of saying something to offend her. “It certainly isn’t Drake.”

“It takes more than an ejaculation to make a dad? You told me that.”

“And I meant it. Except it doesn’t apply where my father’s concerned. He gave up being a dad the day he walked out on my mother. He was playing a part. It’s as simple as that. We’re his embarrassing secret.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No. It’s not that.” He’d been deliberately keeping it from her for good reason. “I didn’t want to pour cold water on your plan. My parents aren’t exactly great advertising for a sperm- donor family.” He hesitated, uncertain about hitting her with things that pained him. “Do you want to know how I found out that Drake isn’t my biological dad? You’d think sharing that information would be something parents planned out carefully, wouldn’t you?” Maggie nodded, watching him carefully. “Well, I found out in an airport. I was thirteen. My mother was half-cut. And out it came. No build-up. No warning.” Awkward silence hung in the air. Maggie opened her mouth to say something and no words came out. He’d thought having a broken-hearted mother and being rejected by a father who constantly put him down were his deepest scars. The bombshell of not being Drake’s biological son ran deeper. “You know. Who told you?”

“Cassandra let it slip.”

He was sorry he hadn’t told her but he didn’t want to talk about Drake and Cassandra. His years of trying to fix his mother’s heartbreak, protect his brother, prove himself to Drake were behind him.

“I need to talk about us.” He wanted her to be happy. He’d watch from the wings, celebrate her ups, be there for her downs. He didn’t know if he had it in him, but he planned to try. Maggie shivered. Her lovely face was tipped up, her eyes locked on his. “What I’m saying is … You can count on me. As a friend. Whatever you need, whenever you need it – help, money … Just call me and let me know, I’ll do whatever I can for you.” Until you find The One. How could he explain that he couldn’t promise to love her because he couldn’t risk hurting her? Them. “I don’t want to let you down,” he said simply. “But I’ll be there for you – and the babies.”

Maggie’s expression was cool, her eyes fixed on the glistening dark water of the Thames below. “That won’t work,” she whispered.

He reached out his arms and wrapped her in a hug. Her hair beneath his jaw felt soft, lovely. She smelt delicious, kind of zingy.

He wanted her. His Maggie. With him. On tour. In his arms. In his bed. He wanted fun, colorful, lovely Maggie. She’d turned his world inside out. The complexity of what he felt shattered him. He didn’t do complicated. He couldn’t have what he wanted. Worse, much worse than that, he couldn’t be what she needed. He was an actor. Make-believe was what he did best. He could pretend that Maggie’s babies were his. He’d do it in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t have to pretend. If only it were that simple. What he couldn’t stand was for them to pretend that he was their dad. There was too much potential for heartache in that scenario. They’d be living a lie. He’d turned it over and over in his mind. He couldn’t be a worse father than Drake. But what if he couldn’t do any better? What if he broke Maggie’s heart?

Maggie wriggled and he loosened his hold, so that she could slip out of the circle of his arms.

“I don’t need your help, or your money, thank you very much.” Her words were edged with sarcasm. “Believe it or not, my finances are in perfect order. I’d hardly have decided to be a single parent if they weren’t.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you were reckless,” Alex cut in. He wanted her to understand that he was offering back-up, someone to rely on. “What I meant was …”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She held up the palms of her hands and backed away from him. “What do you expect from me? Do you want me to say that’s really sweet? You can drift in and out of my life between girlfriends? Maybe even have the occasional shag? I can’t do it.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t mean some kind of friends-with-benefits thing. Just friends. Why not? We were friends before. We can be again.” He spluttered it out, knowing it couldn’t happen.

“I love you.” Her arms hung limply at her side. The fury had gone from her face. “I can’t be just friends anymore. I shouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t be, if your brother hadn’t interfered.”

“What?” She loved him? Confusion clouded his mind. Nick and he were finally on separate career paths, leading different lives.

“Nick set us up.” Her eyes narrowed and her chin jutted. “You mean he hasn’t told you?” She shook her head despairingly. “He fixed for me to get hired to style you in Boston. And if he hadn’t? None of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have gone to New York. I wouldn’t be here now. Face it, Alex. If you’d walked past me on a London street, you wouldn’t have recognized me.”

“Oh, I’d have recognized you.” The shattering of his heart echoed in his voice.

“You don’t have to look after me. I’m not your responsibility.”

She spun on her heels and walked away. He hurried after her, following at a close distance, a pace or two behind, like her minder. When they were off the bridge, he hailed a taxi. He pulled her into his arms, held her tight, and pressed his forehead to hers. He ached to kiss her mouth. Instead he brushed her forehead with his lips and let her go. Cold as a marble statue, he watched the taxi’s tail lights disappear. After it rounded a corner he remained frozen to the spot, utterly dispirited. He raked both hands into his hair, took two quick strides, aching to run after her, get her back. There was no point. No matter what she felt, he couldn’t be her perfect man. He sucked in a deep breath and let it go in an anguished gasp. Accepting, finally, that this was goodbye, he turned and walked purposefully towards the theater.

Time to rejoin the party.

Alex was breaking inside.

Back at the theater he walked straight bang into Drake. He’d sent him an invitation to the first night, but he hadn’t RSVP'd, so Alex had assumed he wasn’t there.

His face beaming, the grey-haired actor grabbed Alex in a firm hug. “Well done, son,” he said. “You knocked Hamlet out of the ball park. I knew you could do it.” With that he swept out of the building to a waiting car.

The American expression coming from the English actor’s mouth sounded ridiculously incongruous. He wasn’t being facetious. He meant it. Alex had earned Drake’s approval. It paled into insignificance. His heart hammered in his chest. The only approval he really needed was Maggie’s love and he’d let that go.

Back in the bar, he hunted down Nick. He’d moved on from champagne and was sitting, looking bored and peeling the label off a bottle of beer.

“What did you do it for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. Setting me up with Maggie.”

“Because if I’d said ‘Hey, why don’t you look up Maggie?’ – you wouldn’t have. It was a nudge in the right direction.”

Alex’s cheek muscle flickered. “You were out of order.”

“Maybe, but the minute you heard she was our stylist, you got her an upgrade on the flight so that she could sit with you.”

“That doesn’t mean you were right.” Tension ripped through Alex’s body.

“I engineered a reintroduction.” Nick shrugged and slugged his beer. “I’d say New York was a pretty good indication that I didn’t get it entirely wrong.” He grinned lopsidedly. “The rest is up to you!”