What If He's the One

KATHY JAY

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2014

Copyright © Kathy Jay 2014

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Kathy Jay asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition © November 2014

ISBN: 9780008122744

Version 2014-10-22

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

For Jake

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Epilogue

Kathy Jay

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Prologue

Ten years ago in London

“Tinseltown, here we come!”

The male voice reverberated through Magenta Plumtree’s pounding head as she perched on the end of Alex Wells’ bed, rolling a scarlet silk stocking up to her thigh.

Nick Wells burst into his twin brother’s bedroom. “Get your act together, Bro. It’s Christmas Eve,” he yelled, then jumped out of his skin. “Well hello, Maggie! Looks like Santa filled Alex’s stocking a day early.”

Bleary-eyed, Maggie blinked at the blonde, brown-eyed version of the guy she’d woken up beside. Too hung over to blush she scanned the room for her other hold-up. She nodded at the boarded-up Victorian fireplace.

“There’s no way Santa’s going to make it down that chimney.”

Nick grinned. He looked her up and down. “I’d suggest that Alex give Santa a key, but there’s hardly any point.”

“Quite.” She shrugged. “Since the two of you are going to LA for the holidays.” She bit her lip and wondered idly if there’d be any room in Alex’s bag for a stowaway.

“And never comin’ back! If things go according to plan.” Nick rubbed his hands together, ostensibly because he was cold, but actually because he couldn’t contain his glee.

The idea of Alex never coming back to London smarted. “Whose plan?”

“Mine,” he said smugly.

“Don’t count on it. You haven’t even had the audition yet.” Nick’s shoulders tightened. He turned his back on Maggie, shuffled a few of his brother’s things about randomly on his desk, more messing than tidying, and turned back abruptly to face her. He opened his mouth to say something. No sound came out. He was holding something back.

Alex, wearing only boxers, marched into the room, a mug of instant coffee in each hand. Tall and fabulous, he watched Maggie scrabble under the bed for her missing stocking with a suggestive twinkle in his bluer-than-blue eyes.

“Leaving so soon?”

“I’ve got a train to catch.” She rolled the second indecently expensive silk stocking up her left leg and set about locating her shoes. Dressed as a sexy Santa in broad daylight on Christmas Eve? At best she looked like a festive kiss-o-gram. At worst? Best not go there.

“Great party last night. You pulled a cracker.” Nick winked at his twin. “Where’s my coffee?”

“He can have mine.” Maggie took a mug from Alex’s hand and shoved it at him. A tiny bow wave of milky coffee sloshed onto the threadbare carpet. The hideous pattern camouflaged the spill. Maggie shrugged. She slipped her feet into her sparkly red heels. “Gotta go.”

Alex pushed a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” He glowered at his brother.

Nick glanced at the alarm clock on Alex’s bedside table. “Heathrow airport in about an hour.” Everyone’s eyes landed on the unopened foil condom package next to the clock.

Alex shot Nick a get-lost-now look and handed him the second cup of coffee. “Go and boost your caffeine level somewhere else.”

Slurping coffee, Nick backed out into the hallway. “Alright, alright, I’m gone already. I can take a hint.” Alex glowered again and closed the door in his face.

Maggie scoured the messy room. “This place is a bombsite. What happened to my coat?”

“We lost it.” Alex pulled an apologetic face. “Actually, I think I persuaded you to give it to a homeless guy.”

Maggie groaned. “Thanks for that.” Her head still hurt. The previous night’s sequence of events was coming back to her. She didn’t mind about the coat. It was a much-too-big impulse buy. Like much of her eclectic wardrobe it had come from a vintage shop. She’d only worn it because it drowned her enough to cover up her Sexy Santa outfit. Anyway, she and Alex had had a cozy room to go back to, whilst the guy on the street faced a bitterly cold night in a shop doorway with nothing but a sleeping bag and a makeshift cardboard tent. Alex had given him directions to a shelter, but he’d refused to go because he had a little scruffy dog with him. “She’s all the family I have,” he’d said. “They won’t let me bring her in.” She hoped her extra-large winter coat had helped the two of them keep warm.

He picked his sweater up off the floor. “Borrow this.” She struggled into it. He dragged a preppy-ish scarf from under a pile of play scripts and clutter. He wrapped it around her neck, pausing to caress her nape.

His warm, firm touch put her into a reverie. It had been the weirdest night. Alex’s mood had been hyper. Hadn’t he stolen her antlers and performed a rendition of “Rudolph the Red- Nosed Reindeer” in the queue for the night bus? She vaguely remembered a “Jingle Bells” sing-along with the passengers on the top deck. Alex had been economical with the details even before they’d downed a festive quantity of alcohol, but something had happened with his dad.

From what Maggie could tell, he and Nick didn’t see much of their actor father, but he’d come out with some scathing remarks in a newspaper interview about disowning his sons because their mother wanted them to audition for an American television drama. “A vampire is the last part on earth I’d choose for myself!” and “I wouldn’t do Mercy of the Vampires if my life depended on it!” were the quotes from the “doyen of serious drama” that had upset Alex. The jibes said more about the legendary Drake Wells than his sons, and were most probably calculated to annoy his soap diva ex-wife, Maggie reckoned, but she could tell Alex was hurt. Having famous parents who were unabashed when it came to splashing their lives across the tabloids had to be hideous. No wonder he was stand-offish. So much so that when she’d first met him she’d thought he hadn’t liked her at first. She’d been wrong on that one. Oh. So. Wrong.

“So…” His lovely rumbly voice filled the awkward silence. “Christmas with Grandma. How is the old dragon?”

“She’d have your …” She fired a twinkly look downwards. “…you-know-whats for Christmas-tree baubles if she knew about last night!”

“Um. Yeah. About last night …” Alex felled her with a sexy smile. “Rain check?”

“Sure.” She pictured the “Tube journey of shame” that lay ahead. Technically, she didn’t actually have anything to be ashamed of. More’s the pity.

Alex pulled her close and forked his fingers into her hair. “Happy Christmas, Babe.” His lips touched hers lightly, then he gathered her into his hold and deepened the kiss as if he’d never let her go. Head in a spin, her heart cartwheeled. This was it! They were tipping over the edge from friends into … What? She couldn’t be sure what all of this meant. She and Alex had become fast friends when she’d moved to London to study fashion. They’d known each other for about a year, been part of a big group of artsy, thespiany students who hung out and went to the same parties. She’d kind of got close to him, as close as anyone could, given how aloof he could be. And, of course, she fancied him. Didn’t everyone? In all honesty she’d been a teeny bit in love with him since the moment she’d first set eyes on him. She’d reconciled the feelings she had for her friend to being just the stuff of crushes, and then, bam! Practically out of nowhere it had flared up last night. She’d accidentally-on-purpose missed the last Tube home, and all of a sudden she had butterflies in her stomach and her head and her heart were in a lovely befuddled muddle.

What if he’s The One?

She wished he didn’t have to go. He had to spend Christmas with his crazy, mixed-up mother in LA. The Hollywood drama queen with the checkered past was at the top of her game, and about to pull off the nepotistic coup of landing her twin sons leading roles in a new vampire drama. Hence the furore with their disapproving father. Alex was stuck. She felt for him. Devoted to Nick and their mother, he’d walk through flames not to let either of them down. Even though he hated his father for publicly lambasting the family, he badly wanted to please him. Getting him to talk about it was impossible. Alex puzzled Maggie. He was positively taciturn about his dad. What she’d figured out was mostly guesswork.

Blow all that. She didn’t want to think about it. She had faith in Alex. He wouldn’t drop out of drama school. He wouldn’t stay in LA. He wanted to be a serious actor. Maybe direct. That might be for the best, given how much he loathed the limelight. She pressed closer into his arms and got lost in his kiss. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to exist only in the moment, memorizing how good he felt, as if she was recording this perfect feeling to hold onto until he came back. A column of warmth and strong muscle, he tightened his hold on her melted body, and his lips crushed hers. Slowly, oh-so-deliciously slowly, they explored each other’s mouths as though they had all the time in the world.

Nick hammered on the door. “I hate to break up the party, guys – but I don’t want to miss my flight.”

They broke from the delirious oblivion of each other. He rocked her world. His soft mouth and the rasp of his unshaven skin made her giddy. She remembered to breathe, and committed to memory his uniquely gorgeous scent of spicy guy.

Her impending Tube journey dragged her back to reality, as if she had lead feet instead of six-inch sequined heels. She had to go home and pack and get herself to Cornwall for what promised to be a traditional, but distinctly uneventful, Christmas break: just her and grandma, as per usual, same as every year in the ten or so since her mother had left.

“I don’t want to go,” she breathed in a whisper. “I wish we could just stay here for the holidays.”

A low groan of frustration echoed from deep in Alex’s throat. “Same.” He brushed her lips in a final parting kiss. “Take these.” He gave her his much-too-big gloves and she stuffed her hands into them.

Nick practically fell through the door as she opened it. “Bye Nick,” she chirped, adding with a cheeky smile, “Good luck with the audition. You’d make a lovely vampire!”

She wanted to mean it. The opportunity meant everything to Nick, even if warring vampire brothers wasn’t exactly Alex’s cup of tea.

“Sayonara, Santa Girl.” He sniggered at her fancy-dress costume. “I’d say thanks if I thought you meant it. Vamoose.” He held the door wide open for her to make an exit. “Cheerio. Toodle-pip. Have a nice life.”

Nick wanted her out of the picture and he wasn’t making any effort to hide the fact. What did he think she might do? Abduct Alex and keep him prisoner in a beach cave so he couldn’t go to LA for their big, life-changing audition. It was a tempting thought. She glared at Alex’s younger twin and froze him out, pretended he had on an invisibility cloak and stood her ground.

She only had eyes for the dark-haired, blue-eyed twin. “Walk you to the Tube?” Alex offered.

Tongue jammed into her cheek, Maggie arched a brow and razed nearly-naked-Alex with a top-to-toe look. She shook her head. “I. Don’t. Think. So.” Despite her ridiculous appearance she was aiming for a sophisticated vibe, like she was terrifically cool with the fact that at some point in the previous twelve hours the world had tilted on its axis and they had become something that was a whole heap of fabuliciousness more than friends. Only her composure cracked and she bubbled over with a fit of the giggles. “Arrivederci. I’ll see myself out.”

“I’m glad you see the funny side.” His drawl echoed in the stairwell. “I’ll call you in Cornwall.”

“Be warned.” She managed to sound nonchalant, even though her heart was racing, “The signal’s rubbish down there. Most of my grandmother’s texts get lost in cyber space for days on end.”

Outside on the London street snow had started to fall, coating everything in a thin layer of white, like frosting on a Christmas cake. Maggie shivered. Tottering to the Underground station, she fumbled her toasty fingers out of Alex’s gloves and texted him. “GBFN.”

A second later his reply pinged onto her phone. Her heart jumped. She missed everything about him already – his strong arms, the touch of his big hands. Suddenly she felt bizarrely isolated. She stopped stock-still on the busy street, a lone eccentric figure in red silk, sequins and oversized knitwear. A skinny black cat with white paws had been watching her from its perch on top of a rubbish bin. It jumped down and twisted itself against her legs. Purring loudly, it circled her, almost knocking her off balance. “Give me a break, Puss-in-Boots,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “It’s hard enough to walk in these stupid shoes as it is. Black cats are supposed to bring good luck,” she scolded chirpily. “I’ll not be feeling very lucky if you trip me up and I break my ankle!”

A sharp tap on the shoulder made her jump. She spun round to find Nick smiling down at her, holding a shoe box. “You can’t go home in those things,” he said, nodding at her feet, and whipping the lid off the box with a flourish. “Ta-dah …” He held out a pair of brand-new boots. “… I’m the health-and-safety guy.”

“I can’t take those.”

“You can and you will,” he joked. “They’re a present.”

“For someone else,” she insisted.

“Yeah, but your need is greater.” He shrugged. “I can get something else.”

Steadying herself on his shoulder she swapped her heels for the flat, sheepskin boots. They were about a size too big but she wasn’t complaining.

“Thanks, Nick.”

“No problem.”

He turned and fled. She bit her lip and checked the screen on her phone.

I’ll call you when I get back. :-) Promise. Alex XXX

She hoped he’d be okay. He hated his parents lashing out at each other in the press. Publicity usually sent him retreating behind a wall of steely silence. Last night had been different. His barriers had come down like never before. If only she could rewind the clock and not fall asleep in his bed. What a twit!

She’d giddily tumbled into bed with Alex, a hot tangle of limbs, breath, skin. The rasp of a zip, feeling her sexy Santa dress fall to the floor, stayed fresh in her mind, even if the rest was hazy. She’d blown her budget on stockings and high heels, but not having anticipated revealing her undies to anyone, let alone Alex, they’d been on the ever-so-slightly unsightly side of things, grey from too many laundry days. Frankly her lingerie – if it qualified to be called that – had seen better days. She cringed, remembering the pause for condoms, uncertainty setting in. Having fruitlessly turned his room upside down, Alex had gone off to see if he could cadge one off a house mate. In a house shared by four guys, a stash had eventually been found. But by then, hit by a wave of embarrassment and beaten by the alcohol, she’d started drifting off to sleep. He’d held her, her hair tangled with his, her head in the curve of his neck, and they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, waking in the cold grey dawn to the realization that in a drunken frenzy they’d almost gone too far.

Except he’d kissed her again and now she was on cloud nine.

Flakes of snow swirled around her. She was having a snow-globe moment. Inside her own little bubble Nick’s words hit home. “Have a nice life.” Alex didn’t realize it yet, but as sure as lucky black cats didn’t wear white boots, the Wells twins were leaving London for good.

They wouldn’t be coming back from LA.

She’d fallen asleep and blown the only chance she’d ever have of making love to the gorgeous guy she’d been really more than a little bit in love with since the moment she’d first looked flirtily into his seductive eyes, and said, “My name’s Magenta, but my friends call me Maggie.”

Chapter One

Oh my giddy aunt! He’s actually on the flight!

What had possessed her when she’d accepted this last-minute styling job? Apart from itchy feet and the promise of a healthy paycheck, there was the decidedly unhealthy curiosity she still harbored over the big what-might-have-been-and-wasn’t-meant-to-be factor.

Secretly, she’d always kicked herself that she hadn’t had sex with Hot Vampire Guy when she had the chance. Frankly, she should be over all that. And she was. Really, she was.

Magenta Plumtree, fashion-stylist-on-a-mission, boarded the flight from London Heathrow to Boston clutching her cabin baggage so tight that her knuckles turned white. A British magazine had hired her to fly out and style twin celebrities, Alex and Nick Wells, in two fashion shoots scheduled to coincide with the promo for the final series of their top-of-the-ratings television show, Mercy of the Vampires. It was all very last-minute and a bit of a shock.

The flight attendant, a blonde bombshell with a candy-pink pout, checked her boarding card.

“You’ve been upgraded to Business.”

To her right, bursting at the seams, Economy buzzed with passengers stowing carry-ons.

“I have? How come?” She almost high-fived Blondie. She’d lucked in. For once. Delighted to be moving up in the world, she turned left.

Yay.

Then again. Not so yay. Of course there was a drawback. The empty seat was smack-bang next to super-sexy vampire actor Alex Wells. In this position many women would have imagined they’d died and gone to heaven. Not so Magenta. She winced. She’d braced herself for working with him in Boston. She hadn’t planned on travelling with him, or being bowled over by his fabulousness. These days he was just another celebrity clothes hanger. It was her job to pick him out some knock-out fashion items. Unusually for her she was lost for words.

He flicked her an arrogant glance up and down from behind dark glasses.

“Hey.”

She reeled. One rumble was enough to make her heart drop into her freebie, perk-of-the-job designer boots. “Hey.” Her terse echo masked intense, self-conscious attraction. With a perfunctory smile, she sat down and snapped on her seatbelt.

Big comfy seat. Masses of leg room. Nice.

They ignored each other through the spiel about life jackets and no smoking in the toilets. She picked up the emergency-procedure leaflet and gave it the benefit of her undivided attention for longer than was strictly necessary.

After take-off a star-struck flight attendant batted her eyelashes at Alex with a dose of not-so-professional allure. “Complimentary champagne, Sir?”

He removed his sunglasses. “Don’t mind if I do,” he quipped, infamous Wellsian charm much in evidence. How did he manage to pull off that cool twinkle? He turned his penetrating gaze on Magenta. “Join me?”

“No thanks.” She declined the bubbly, and the flight attendant substituted champagne with orange juice.

Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “What happened to your party-girl tendencies?”

She tried him with a couple of lame excuses. “I’m detoxing. Anyhow, alcohol and jetlag don’t mix.”

He was having none of it. “Go on. Be a devil. You used to be fun,” he joked. “A. Lot. Of. Fun.” She hadn’t seen him for donkey’s years and here he was, large as life, all flirty and fabulous. She gritted her teeth. She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, so she needed another excuse for not drinking. She could hardly claim to be a recovering alcoholic. That would be insensitive given his mother’s history of stints in rehab.

“I’ve just finished a course of antibiotics and, anyway, I’m counting calories.” She tipped her head to one side, exuding fake nonchalance.

Alex sipped from his flute. “No champagne for you, huh? That’s tough.” He checked that the flight attendant was out of earshot and whispered so she wouldn’t hear. “It’s not properly chilled. It pretty much tastes like fizzy bath water – if that’s any consolation, Maggie.”

The mini champagne bottle looked perfectly chilled. Was this Alex being considerate? She didn’t know what she’d expected from the man who’d walked away without saying goodbye, but it definitely wasn’t quips about tepid champagne.

His incendiary eyes ignited a touch paper of acute embarrassment topped off with a sprinkling of nostalgia. Her heartbeat skipped, like an awkwardly timed hiccup. She laughed, jittery. His voice was all actorly. Posh – sort of. Not marbles – more velvety, like rich, dark, melted chocolate. So much for having got over the effect he’d had on her in their student days.

He sounded kind of mid-Atlantic, half-Brit, half-American. De-lish. And altogether too smooth. What was it about that soft rumble? He made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

“No one’s called me Maggie since …” She stopped abruptly. Um. You did. Way back when. “… It’s Magenta now.”

“Magenta Plumtree – fashion stylist to the stars.” Did she detect a hint of cynicism?

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.” A lump formed in her throat. “Until now, that is.”

He snared her gaze. The moment lasted a second too long. Even after all this time, she could lose herself in his dreamy eyes.

“You’re still just plain Maggie to me.” His delectable drawl gave her tingles. The orange juice sloshed. She set it down on the tray table, eyes fixed on it as if she’d just found a fly floating in there. Avoiding Alex’s roguish face, she studied her blue nails, the only soupçon of color in her meticulously monochrome appearance. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, though a little bit harder than she intended. “Ouch.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking you’re not a nightmare.”

He frowned and pinched the back of his own hand. “Well, what do you know? Neither are you.”

A bubble of emotion burst. He compelled her to smile despite her inclination to send him frosty, couldn’t-care-less-about-you vibes.

You’re ridiculously dreamy actually!

The Wells twins’ celebrity status was stratospheric. They had the bad-boy reputations to go with it. Less inclined to publicly flaunt his love life than his scandal-prone brother, Alex maintained an air of mystery. Even so, he’d been the subject of his fair share of gossip over the years.

“So. Long time, no see. How the hell are you?”

She must be hearing things. He’d said “long time, no see”. Despite her annoyance at his cheek, sparks of their once-upon-a-time chemistry flickered. “I’m good. Grr-reat. You?”

“Fine. Busy. Doing promo for the final series of Vampires. She took another hit of his blue eyes and spine-tingly voice, barely listening to the actual words he was saying. “And working on a new project in London.”

Fidgety, she picked up her drink, took a sip and waited for the next question.

“What about you, Maggie? What are you up to these days? Not married or anything?”

Right on cue. More cheek!

“Nope. Not married.”

Maggie met his magnetic stare full on. She sizzled. She had to tough this out. She couldn’t in all honesty add “Or anything”, but she certainly wasn’t about to share her personal life with him. The eyes that wowed women all over the planet from the safety of their TV screens slid to her left hand. No wedding ring.

Flipping flippity flip.

Why couldn’t they be on a posh new plane? Then he’d have his own personal first-class pod to chillax in? Instead of spoiling her upgrade.

“How do you like your upgrade? Shame about the champagne. I hope you don’t mind, Maggie, but I took the liberty of having you moved to Business. It’s been a long time, I thought it might be good to meet, clear the air, ahead of working together.”

Maggie gulped, only just managing not to splutter juice all down her front.

“You upgraded me?” she squeaked. How dare he interfere with her travel arrangements? “There was really no need. I’ll reimburse you.”

He downed his champagne. His eyes scintillated. “It’s a tight schedule. I thought you’d be more comfortable in Business. And I get the pleasure of your company. We can have a catch-up.”

Awkward!

“A catch-up? It’s been ten years, Alex. How long have you got?”

He glanced at his watch and laughed. “About seven hours.”

Even after a decade, he unnerved her with a sense that he could see inside her soul with those penetrating blue irises.

Outrageous.

That was silly. Deluded. It was the TV-star effect. Guys like Alex shouldn’t be allowed in confined spaces – like airplanes. Much too distracting. Flight attendants should be issued with Hot Man Alert signs. By law, or something.

Keep calm and carry on.

Her professional preparedness for the prospect of working with him after all these years had taken on an unexpected turn now that she was sitting next to him. Polite chit-chat she could do. The last thing she wanted was to start spilling out an over-share of personal details as if they’d never lost touch.

“There’s not much to tell. I know transatlantic travel is boring, but I’m not the in-flight entertainment.”

Okay, so long ago in a forgotten land, Alex had been her friend … And they’d fallen into bed together – that one time. She winced. That was before he went off and became famous and dropped her like a hot potato. She fumed. If they were on a bus, she’d hop off at the next stop. Seeing him like this had catapulted her back in time, and she was suddenly a tad out of her depth.

“Go on. Indulge me. Tell me all about it. How did my old mate Maggie become fashion guru Magenta Plumtree?” Alex’s mid-Atlantic voice hypnotized her, weakening her wariness.

His old mate! Really?

“I have my dippy mother to thank for the la-di-da name. The rest, I guess, is down to a lot of good luck and hard work.”

“Not to mention an instinct for style and a flair for all things fashion. Don’t be modest. You’re good and you know it.”

“The truth is I sort of fell into it. I’ve loved fashion since I was a little girl. I guess I like playing dress-up.”

“Good for you for doing what you love.”

He was more heart-stoppingly attractive than he’d ever been, but there was an aura of distance about him. Was this his celebrity bubble? She couldn’t make up her mind if she was annoyed with him for quizzing her, or pleased that he still thought of her as having been a friend. She was intrigued by him, that was for sure.

“I like helping people express their sense of style – whether it’s a special event or a makeover.” She was off. “I love it all. I like putting together looks that are bang on trend, or quirky ones that are a bit of a mash-up, the way we’re doing for these shoots with you and Nick. I love catwalk shows, fashion weeks, shoes – oh my lucky stars – how I love shoes.” She dipped her glance towards her beloved designer boots, wiggled her toes and clicked her feet together in the mode of The Wizard of Oz’s red-shoed Dorothy. “Then there’s the shopping – need I say more? I get to go wild in great cities. New York. London. Paris. I pick up accessories. I find little boutiques off the beaten track. Just last week I found a vintage shop to die for in Montmartre. It’s the best!” He watched her intently. Was he actually interested? He’d always been kind of unreadable. Her heart hammered. The more her pulse raced, the faster she burbled. “I’ve worked with designers and big high-street chains. I don’t have a preference. I can’t get enough of it all.” She forced herself to draw breath. “Sorry.” She sensed the spread of a blush rising up her neck and setting her face ablaze. “I’ll get down off my soap box now. I suppose you could say I’m incredibly shallow.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She couldn’t believe that he wasn’t completely indifferent, like he’d spotted a vaguely intriguing but ultimately forgettable relic on a between-takes boredom- busting visit to the studio prop store. “There’s nothing wrong with making people feel good about themselves.”

The heat in Maggie’s face began to subside. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail for travelling. On autopilot she undid and re-fixed it. “I guess I’m just a free spirit. Fashion styling suits me. I like working freelance.” She hated that she felt such a strong need to justify her lifestyle. If things went according to plan, she’d have to stop travelling, settle down and try something different. She’d already started putting out feelers, thinking about new directions. “If you must know, I’m planning to make some changes. I’ve been a bit of a rolling stone since uni. I did this and that for the first few months, then I got hired as a temporary Girl Friday for a designer at London Fashion Week. I worked my socks off for her and she gave me recommendations. Before I knew it I was building a reputation as a stylist. And voilà.”

“What kind of changes?”

He’d zapped her cool, if she’d ever had any. Although she’d taken this styling job because she’d felt compelled to find out about the man Alex had become, it hadn’t occurred to her for one moment that he’d want to know about her. He was fabulously good-looking and then some. These days she’d have been happy to put it all down to air-brushing. Seeing him in the flesh reminded her it was so not. He was off-the-charts gorgeous.

“Oh, you know,” she said evasively, brushing her hand through the air as if she could sweep her words away. “I want to settle down. Find something a bit more permanent.”

Fidgety, she pretended to pluck a non-existent piece of fluff off the sleeve of her black designer sweater.

Miles above the Atlantic Ocean, there were hours to go. How was she going to damp down the disastrous fireworks that she thought had died long ago? With any luck it was down to sky-high hormones, and the plan she was hell bent on not sharing with him. She hadn’t told anyone yet. Not even Layla, her lovely BFF since age zilch. She hadn’t wanted people to try and dissuade her from her decision.

“Your meal, sir.” Alex accepted his tray from the flight attendant turned swoony bimbo.

Maggie identified with her wholeheartedly. Being on the flight with Alex was too surreal – more like riding a rollercoaster. She’d expected to meet him at the shoot and adopt an air of professional distance. Instead the memory of tumbling into bed with him wouldn’t get out of her head. It mortified her.

He’d gone to LA. And he’d never called. She’d forgotten him – kind of not. The problem was that his alter ego loomed everywhere. Hot Vampire Guy, as Layla called him, adorned the walls of Tube stations. His eyes blazed from the sides of red, double-decker London buses. Co-workers at coffee breaks bandied his name around. Alex had been replaced by Jago. And Jago was not a man who went unnoticed.

She was more than a smidge curious about getting a call out of the blue asking her to style Alex and Nick. It was extremely short notice and very unusual. The editor was about to put the magazine to bed when she got the green light for these photo shoots, so the pressure was on to get it right. Maggie was beginning to think that she should have said no. Still, she planned to tack an extra day onto her stay in Boston and go on a whale-watch. It was something she’d always wanted to do. Added to that, her bank balance was healthy enough, but she was in no position to turn down work; especially well-paid editorial work for a top magazine.

The funny timing coincided with a new phase in her life. Some kind of karma? Alex had gone off to a new life and hadn’t contacted her. It wasn’t so much the one-night-flop, although she could have kicked herself about that. It was the silence that hurt. She’d called him half a dozen times, but he hadn’t answered his phone or followed up the message she’d finally left with Nick. Basically, she hadn’t mattered enough for him to say goodbye. She’d been dumped. So she did what she always did. She glossed over it, put on a smile, and moved on. After all, being left behind was Magenta Plumtree’s normal.

She was proud of her life, excited for the future. She needed to keep that in her head, up front and center. She’d power through the awkwardness and focus on her work.

“Your meal.” The flight attendant made to set a tray down in front of Maggie. As she did so the knife, fork, and spoon wrapped in a linen napkin wobbled and dropped off. Alex held out one large hand and caught it in mid-air. Sleeve rolled back, tanned arm dusted with dusky hairs, an understated platinum watch sat on his wrist. He passed the cutlery to Maggie. Their fingers brushed. Attraction danced in her veins and shimmied to the tips of her fingers and toes. She trembled, discombobulated beyond belief.

“It’s really good to see you, Maggie.”

He challenged her with his wicked eyes. If only just sitting beside him didn’t take her breath away. Blast his blatant sex appeal. Everything about his body language screamed an invitation to play. He made her want to smile in spite of herself.

“You too.” She lowered her eyes only to find herself making a study of his muscular thighs in dark denim. He exuded masculine vitality from every single pore. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” she blurted, adding a second too late “and Nick.”

Alex turned back and gave her one of his rare smiles. He was devastating when he did that. Not that people got to see him smile much. He was way too cool. She’d done an internet search to check out the looks that they used on the show. She’d unearthed infinite pages of Alex channeling his vampire character Jago – all dark and compelling and smileless. His smile was infectious. Maybe that’s why he didn’t do smile-for-the-camera. Perhaps he’d spent ten years perfecting an image of supreme indifference to save women from themselves. On the receiving end of Alex’s wicked, wide smile she might as well be weightless, as if she’d boarded a rocket for Mars and flown off into space. All rationale eliminated, she had mush for a brain.

Wound-up, spaceship Maggie returned from outer orbit. Alex Wells had been on planet La La Land for ten years. She’d be crazy to wonder if they could go back to square one – on any level, never mind the events of that last night. He wanted to get up to speed. Make sure she had enough experience for the styling job. She’d worked with celebrities, even a handful of really big names, but mostly she got hired by a well-heeled social elite, who desperately wanted to look like A-listers. She’d be fooling herself if she imagined Alex, with his ”old mates” interrogation and his upgrade, was interested in her beyond the end of this week. He was all fake charm and chumminess because he wanted her to make him look good. She wondered how he handled the publicity, given that he’d loathed being its focus before he got famous.

“Come on. Out with it, Maggie. Spill the beans. What have you got in the pipeline?”

She tensed and bit down on her bottom lip, aching to tell him to mind his own business and literally clamping her mouth shut. Alex did not need to know about her recent visit to a private fertility clinic.

“I can’t say,” she said evasively. “Nothing’s finalized yet. But I can tell you that if it works out, it’s going to totally change my life.”

Chapter Two

High-voltage silence reigned while they ate. Even after they’d been served coffee and things had been cleared, electricity still thrummed in the air. Alex shifted in his seat. He stared out the window at the vast, empty sky. He should choose a movie, freeze out the atmosphere by plugging in his headset.

He’d wanted to break the ice ahead of working together. He hadn’t expected to be affected by her. Something about her had changed. Her business-like appearance was a surprise, but it wasn’t that. She was different beneath the surface. Perhaps she still felt strange about that night they’d spent together. He certainly did. There’d been that awkwardness when he’d taken too long to find a condom. In truth, the delay was deliberate. He’d known he and Nick wouldn’t fail the audition. He shouldn’t have been starting something with Maggie. When he’d kissed her the morning after, he’d hoped with all his heart that he’d be back after Christmas and that life would continue like before. Cutting her off seemed obvious at the time, kinder than stringing her along. He couldn’t go back to London, and her coming to LA was out of the question. She was a year and a term into her degree. Remembering the girl from a dot on the map, who grew up with her mess-with-my-Maggie-and-you’ll-have-me-to-answer-to grandma made him smile. More than once she’d got on the Underground heading in the wrong direction. That’s what had drawn him to her. She’d belonged to a place completely outside his world and she was better off not getting dragged into it.

Seven hours on a plane was too much ice-breaking time. Why hadn’t he suggested a breakfast meeting? She was fixating on a magazine as if she had to memorize it.

Maggie read the in-flight magazine from cover to cover. Including the horoscope page. All twelve star signs. Irritatingly, the cover story was about Drake Wells, Alex’s father, and how at the age of sixty-four he’d reinvented himself and discovered new-found fame starring as the villain in a hit sci-fi movie. In the duty-free section she picked out a new fragrance, which promised to be “beyond zingy”. Its apple-green bottle appealed to her. She made a mental note to try some at the airport on the way home. A preserving jar bursting with rainbow-colored jelly beans gave her a hankering for peachy-pie flavor. She’d definitely get some of those. Disgruntled, she stuffed the magazine into the seat pocket. Drake’s face, handsome, but not in the least bit like Alex’s, stared back at her.

On edge, she stared into space and caught sight of Nick Wells. Her eyes popped open. She hadn’t realized he was on the flight. There seemed to be no getting away from Wells men. He was schmoozing a flight attendant; the one with the candy-pink pout. A moment later he vanished behind the curtain, with the pretty woman in hot pursuit. The toilet-occupied light popped on. Maggie glanced around the cabin. Had anyone else noticed?

Alex had. He rolled his eyes, implying he hadn’t seen a thing.

It was impossible to ignore him.

“Please tell me they’re not doing what I think they’re doing. People don’t, do they? Not in the real world?”

“That depends what you’re thinking.” He was just the right amount of unshaven. His white shirt accentuated his tan. With some of the top buttons undone the fabric fell open in a loose vee. Her eyes were drawn to his broad chest. Amazing pecs hid under that designer shirt – she’d watched the TV show. She’d seen the evidence. “I guess they’re renewing their membership.”

“Sorry? What?” Maggie’s cheeks glowed. The burning memory in the back of her head had come out of storage despite her efforts to contain it. It was in the front part of her brain. It wasn’t likely to go away anytime soon.

Her one-night-flop with Alex had given her more to daydream about than most fans of Mercy of the Vampires could lay claim to. Shame the night of giving in to temptation had faded into a fiasco.

“Keep up, Maggie. Nick and his pick-of-the-day are fulfilling the terms and conditions of the mile-high club.” He narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully. “Have you become a bit of a prude?”

“Certainly not.” She wasn’t about to let him make her feel like a fuddy-duddy. “Sex plus a toilet cubicle don’t add up to fun times in my book.”

“Perhaps we should put that theory to the test. I might be able to change your mind.”

Is he for real? The mile-high club seemed more fantasy than reality. Dead set on proving that she was as worldly as the next person, she raised a brow and blurted, “Bet you’re a fully paid-up member already, right?”

His seductive eyes sparkled. “Is that a proposition?” His ve-ry sexy drawl sent party poppers of attraction bursting through her. She was absolutely not going to repeat her past mistake with this guy. A faint smile twisted his lips. “Relax, Maggie. I’m kidding. Anyway, we’ve kinda been there, nearly done that. Minus the altitude factor. Remember?”

He’d mentioned the unmentionable night.

“How could I forget?” Oh the shame. The embarrassment! Was that what this upgrade had been about? Getting things out in the open. She was none too sure how much air-clearing she could handle. Her throat was dry. She’d better get a grip. Her night with Alex didn’t matter anymore. Except – she’d gained an immensely unforgettable one-night-disaster, and she’d lost a friend. Instant unfriending! Alex smiled his potent smile. Did he have to bring this up? “Our one night non-event. The least said about that the better.”

“You couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

Oh no! She wasn’t taking that. The impertinence! In defiance of her newly acquired coyness with Alex the TV personality, she challenged Alex, her once-upon-a-time friend.

“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.” She cleared her throat. “Best not go there.”

“You fell asleep.”

She assessed the eaves-dropping potential of the passengers around her, and hissed through gritted teeth, “You couldn’t find a condom.” The corners of Alex’s mouth twitched.

“Um – how are we even having this conversation?” His silence forced her to fill the void. “It was a long time ago. About a hundred years.”

“Ten, actually. Before I became a dropout.”

“Before you became television’s most popular vampire.”

“I think you’ll find that’s Nick.”

“Not according to what I’ve read. I’ve done my research. Allegedly, women the world over go weak at the knees for – and I quote …” She made annoying squiggles in the air with her fingers. “… The complicated twin.” Their eyes locked in combat. “That’s you.”

“I’m not complicated. That’s PR. Nobody pays any attention to that stuff.”

“So what are we doing in Boston – if no one pays any attention?”

Alex shrugged. “Work. The last part of my contract, before I shake off Jago for good, and get on with my life.” Something electric fizzed between them. “Where were we? Let’s get back to debating the mile-high club. I like that topic better.” He trained his eyes intensely on her neck. “What does it take to qualify, do you reckon? Does this count?”

He took her hand in his, turned it over and touched the inside of her wrist, firmly tracing a figure of eight with the pad of one finger. Awareness prickled her skin. He pushed back her sleeve and drew a line with his finger to the indent of her elbow. He marked out another invisible figure of eight on her skin. It was his character’s trademark gesture when seducing women in the vampire show. It gave her goose bumps of pure pleasure.

His mouth was kissingly close. She trembled.

He lowered his head and his mouth grazed her neck, his heat injecting lava into her veins. She breathed in his scent of spice. His shiny black hair brushed her skin, oh so softly. “Alex,” she breathed, aiming for mock stern. “If that’s your party trick, I think it’s time to get a new one.”

He touched her neck very gently, pushed back a wave of hair that had escaped her ponytail and moved his thumb in sensuous figures of eight around her pulse point. Her heart raced.

“I’m not up for being practiced on like some kind of seduction technique guinea-pig,” she burbled. “I can’t play your game. It might work on the zillion other women in your life. But it doesn’t do anything for me. I knew you before you were television’s sexiest vampire …” She was aiming for sarcasm. It was a struggle. “In case you’d forgotten.”

“Ohhhhh, I’ve definitely not forgotten,” he rumbled. Before she could respond he silenced her, feathering her lips with his for a fraction of a nano-second.

“Alex!” She exhaled his name and sucked in a breath, almost fighting for air. There was no confusion. Vampires were fiction. This was real. He’d hijacked her controls and she was tipsy on a cocktail laced with one hundred per cent temptingly awesome man.

He settled back into his own seat. Leaning on the cushiony headrest, he taunted, “It’s no good. If you want to make me a club member there’s only one thing for it.” He nodded towards the front of the aircraft. “We’ll have to join the queue.”

“Ha flipping ha.” She smirked at him caustically. “Very funny. Like that’s going to happen.” Apparently fashion stylist Magenta had put on a parachute and jumped, leaving the teenager she’d been when she first met him in her place.

Maggie was in a crazy spin. She wasn’t going to let Alex know it. He was only flirting with her. Even so, he was sinfully hard to resist.

She glanced around the cabin. In the low light the other passengers either worked on laptops or dozed. Luckily.

Her heart squeezed. Her life plan didn’t include a man to share it. She’d convinced herself that she didn’t need one. Alex’s provocative half a heartbeat of an almost kiss told her in no uncertain terms that men had their uses. For some things they were indispensable, even.

That was by the by. There was still no such thing as The One. He didn’t exist. For one sugary moment ten years ago she’d wondered if Alex might be her One. As it turned out – he wasn’t. She got over it – eventually. She hadn’t seen it at first, but the writing had always been on the wall for Maggie. Her dad hadn’t stuck around for her mum. And no guy was going to stick around for her. Even her grandfather hadn’t been a long-haul guy. He’d gone off with an ahead-of-her-time cougar from the village fish-and-chip shop.

In spite of the evidence, Maggie had remained positive. She’d truly believed she could find her Mr. Right and beat the family curse. Only things had changed when Marcus came along and burst that bubble. Men were fickle creatures. And as if she needed any more proof. Here was Hot Vampire Guy, charming the life out of her, just to pass the time.

The plane juddered. The seatbelt lights pinged on. “Ladies and gentleman – we are experiencing some turbulence. Please return to your seats and refrain from moving about the cabin.”

Nick was ejected from the toilet; followed after about thirty none-too-discreet seconds by the petite flight attendant.

Nick ignored the instruction to sit. He stopped beside Maggie.

“Maggie Plumtree – we meet again.” He raked his gaze over her. “Last time I saw you, you were wearing a fetching little Santa Girl number,” he teased. “I’m glad to see your dress sense has improved.”

She laughed off his jokey remark. It dawned on her, somewhat belatedly, that the fashion shoot had the makings of the old friends’ reunion from hell. Why hadn’t she seen that coming? She needed a thick skin.

Alex glared at his brother.

Nick crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I’ve heard a lot about your work – all good, of course.”

“Of course.” She looked him up and down, hoping the looks she had planned were going to work. “It’s good to see you too, Nick.” She pointed to the fasten seatbelts lights. “Shouldn’t you go back to your seat?”

Nick had been a bit-part actor when she’d known the brothers in London. Unlike Alex, he’d avoided drama school, scoring roles mostly through luck and the helping hand of a famous name. It opened doors and got him into TV medical dramas and whodunits. The way she remembered it, Nick and their mother had more or less kidnapped Alex when Mercy of the Vampires came along. It would have been crazy not to go for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But, ultimately, TV in Hollywood had been Nick’s dream, not Alex’s. Seeing the brothers together now, she wondered what direction Alex’s life might have taken if he hadn’t gone to LA. Before he’d dropped out of drama school to play Nick’s evil vampire twin in the pilot series of Mercy he’d talked about getting into theater, serious stuff like directing and Shakespeare.

Nick pinned her with his sparkly almond gaze and didn’t budge.

“So, what have you got planned for us? Or is it top secret?”

Maggie snapped into professional mode, reminding herself that she needed to let bygones be bygones.

“Day one we’re in downtown Boston. We’re planning something rural meets urban – with fresh produce.” Nick frowned. “Apples. Flowers. Helium balloons.” She bubbled with enthusiasm. “I’m aiming for a kitsch vibe with pretty girls in retro florals. And you guys in country tweeds.”

“Tweeds?” Alex and Nick echoed in sync. They exchanged a skeptical look.

“It’ll be fab. Trust me. The magazine wants something cute. A farmers’ market in the heart of the city feel. I’m going to work with a devil within theme to keep the focus on the vampire premise of the show.”

“Brainy as well as beautiful. No wonder you’ve done so well for yourself.”

Nick’s playboy reputation was as legendary as Alex’s mystery. Lately the tabloids couldn’t get enough of his allegedly on-off affair with his on-screen love interest Ella Swift. Going by what she’d just witnessed, it was more off than on.

In contrast, scandal about Alex rarely appeared in the gossip magazines. Even so, the paparazzi frequently photographed him with some glitterati girl glued to his side. Only last week she’d seen his name on a list of the world’s top twenty most-eligible bachelors.

The show had been a huge success, running for almost ten years and making them household names. It helped that their mother was the flamboyant Cassandra Wells, and being real-life twins didn’t hurt either. It added to the hype that surrounded the Wells brand.

“We’re at Cape Cod the second day. Doing something atmospheric in the dunes.”

“Tell me more. I’m intrigued.” Alex butted into the conversation.

“Leather and lace. Anyone?” Oops. She wasn’t doing very well on the act-professional-absolutely-no-flirting front.

“Just as long as it’s you in leather and Alex wearing the lace. Or should it be the other way around?” A cheeky grin spread across Nick’s face.

“Well, no.” She feared that working with Alex and Nick might require the bringing out of her inner schoolmarm – if she had one. “We’ve booked some lovely willowy girls to do something a bit Victoriana meets boho chic. We’re going to blend that with sea, sand, and a sexy biker-boy look.” She gave a little shrug. “That’s where you guys come in.”

“Cool.” Nick’s grin widened at the approach of the flight attendant, smiling pinkly.

“Sit down, please – um, sir.”

The seatbelt lights pinged off, but Nick was bored now. He made a move to go back to his seat. “Catch you later,” he said loudly, drowning out the disembodied voice of the co-pilot regaling passengers with details of the cruising height and the ground temperature in Boston.

Towards the end of the flight Alex looked down at Maggie. She’d fallen asleep. Her head had dropped onto his shoulder, but he hadn’t dared wake her.

Where had the Maggie who wore bright colors gone? She’d been replaced by a sophisticated looking interloper. Alex gritted his teeth, trapped in his seat by a gently snoring Maggie.

Ten years ago she had made a big crack in the armor he wore like a theatrical mask. He’d chosen LA over following his heart. He’d blocked out everything he loved about London when he’d given up on his dream. That included Maggie.

He looked at her face, her long lashes. Her wavy hair had escaped from its ponytail. It brushed softly against his cheek. She smelt delicious. Every time he inhaled, her wild-flower-meadow fragrance floated up his nose. Her mouth was full. In a good way. Not an LA trout pout. Her skin glowed.

Awkward!

He couldn’t help thinking about the last time she’d slept right next to him. She belonged to a time and place pre-TV. Before things had changed completely. He’d lived and breathed Mercy of the Vampires for ten years – and loved every minute of it. But ten years was enough. When he’d pulled the plug on the show, Nick had been incandescent. He still hadn’t got over it. Too bad. Alex intended to move on, lead his own life – not a default version of his brother’s.

Nick had been depending on him since the miserable night Drake had left their mother twenty-four years ago. Older by just twelve minutes, Alex had gradually become more like a substitute dad to his twin. They’d been alone watching a cartoon while his parents argued, shouting at the top of their lungs. Alex had protected Nick, getting him to stick his fingers in his ears, until he could find the remote and turn the volume up full. He’d drowned out the frightening sound of his parents’ anger. He’d been putting Nick first ever since.

Maggie shifted in her sleep. She still rated ten out of ten on his hot-ometer. He’d happily pick up right where they’d left off. It would make the next couple of days a lot more interesting.

Being near her was like breathing fresh air. It had to be down to her impossible-to-ignore curves. The gentle rise and fall of her breasts drove him crazy. This close, and at this angle, he had an attractive view of her cleavage. Her black top gaped slightly and he caught an unintentional glimpse of deep-pink shimmering silk. Lovely. Who’d have thought that the new understated Maggie would be wearing pulse-raising underwear in a magenta shade that matched her name?

With his free arm he stretched down and picked up Maggie’s in-flight blanket, which had slipped into a scrunched-up ball between their feet. Awkwardly, he tried to cover her without disturbing her.

He dragged his eyes back to her face. She had freckles, as if someone had dipped a paintbrush in caramel and flicked it across the bridge of her nose. He didn’t remember that about Maggie. A stab of shame lanced him. He didn’t remember because he’d blanked her out.

The cabin crew announcement ping sounded. “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has started our descent into Boston Logan International Airport, please fasten your seatbelts, make sure your seats and tray tables are in the upright position and switch off any electronic equipment.”

The saccharin voice shook Maggie out of her sleep. Her creamy skin turned pink. Alex watched the blush travel up her neck from the dip of her top.

Sexy.

“I nodded off.”

“Am I that boring?”

Her lips curved teasingly. “Yes, very.” Her hazel eyes shone. She removed the elastic holding what was left of her ponytail and shook loose her hair. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.” He deliberately held back a smile. “It was just like old times – apart from the snoring.”

“Flipping Nora. I didn’t, did I?” Maggie sat up straight and clicked on her seatbelt. “Alex Wells. I do not snore, and you know it.”

“I only have limited experience of your sleeping habits, Maggie.” Exactly that kind of meaningless banter had landed them in bed together once before.

Maggie’s mysterious eyes shot him down. For the first time in several hours she didn’t have the perfect reply on the tip of her tongue.

He’d better snap out of it. He weighed up the possibilities. Temptress Maggie? Professional Maggie?

Face it, Wells. She’s way off limits.

Flirting with her was a mistake. He’d been bored. It was what he did. Playing on the vampire thing. Still, he shouldn’t have gone there with Maggie.

He’d better come up with an action plan. He quickly formulated a strategy, of sorts.

 Be civil.

 Put up with wearing tweed.

 No flirting – definitely no flirting.

 Wish her luck and wave goodbye.

5? There was no number 5. Four points should cover it.

What would he do if he’d never met stylist Magenta Plumtree before? Truthfully? He’d be tempted to explore her possibilities. She’d be just the thing to take his mind off Nick and the promo treadmill.

“I’ve got a driver waiting at the airport. Can I offer you a ride to the hotel?”

Her freckly nose wrinkled. “Oh … no … Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’ll get a taxi.” She waved a neatly manicured hand dismissively. The new Magenta had a neutral image. The peculiar-shade-of-blue nails, and the enticing underwear, reminded him of sparkly Maggie. The rest of her sophisticated appearance – all designer black and grey – slapped him in the face like a cold kipper; a reminder, although he didn’t need one, that time had changed everything.

“Don’t argue, Maggie. Just say yes.”

Chapter Three

I. Am. Actually. With. Him.

Alex took control at the airport. He heaved Maggie’s bags off the carousel. “Good grief. You’ve got a lot of baggage.” She really did. Literally – because she’d brought things with her for the shoot. And figuratively. She trembled inside, wondering if her procedure at the clinic had worked, and if today would be too soon to test.

He queued with her in the passport check lines, placing a hand in the small of her back and ushering her forward in a way that made her feel like she wasn’t just with him by accident. The pressure of his hand meant more than it should. He’d branded her with his delicious heat.

Turning heads every step they took, he towered over Maggie. His stop-you-in-your-tracks eyes were masked with dark sunglasses, but people recognized him anyway; and even if they didn’t they still looked. Recognition didn’t fizz on Alex. But awkwardness prickled through Maggie. She noted the stares, the admiring glances, the nudgings and finger pointings. Not to mention the phone-photo moments.

In the arrivals hall a young woman thrust a camera into Maggie’s hands. She and her mother draped themselves either side of a stony-faced Alex.

“Take a photo! Would you mind?”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.” He hooked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his jacket and looked into the camera, suppressing a scintilla of a smile. It was the look he was famous for. The fans expected it. Maggie’s legs turned to jelly. She took the picture and handed the camera back.

“Thank you so much,” the women chorused. “You’ve made our day.” They raced off, dragging their cases with nippy little wheels behind them, ready to waylay Nick and repeat the photo opportunity.

Through the flurry of attention Alex located his driver and whisked Maggie out of the airport. He held the car door for her while the driver dealt with the bags.

“Nick and I have different drivers. In theory we attract less attention that way.”

“If all the drooling damsels and general purpose nut-jobs back there are anything to go by, different cars isn’t going to do it. What you guys need is separate planets!”

Lips set in an unflinching line, a muscle twitched in his cheek. “We’re working on it.”

His body brushed hers when he slid into the car. Being around Alex over the next few days would be so much easier to cope with if he came with a button and an instruction manual telling her how to turn his infernal sex appeal off.

She couldn’t afford to indulge in swoony fan moments. She had a job to do. This Boston shoot was nothing more than a slot blocked off in her diary. Styling Alex would be easy. He’d rock any look she threw at him.

Maggie tugged at her seatbelt. It had jammed. She tugged again.

“Need a hand?” Alex leaned across. Mmm… Spiced man. His unshaven jawline was so close she wondered how it would feel against her skin. Any more of these moments, or – heaven forbid – incidents like the one on the plane and she would melt like microwaved chocolate. She needed to come up with a self-preservation plan, something to keep her one step ahead of Hot Vampire Guy.

One deft movement unjammed the seatbelt and he passed it into her hands, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. There was a knowing quirk of an almost-smile on his lips when he pulled back and settled into his half of the back seat to snap on his own seatbelt.

Her heart fluttered, hormones sky-high. If she could roll back time she’d make sure her one not-so-stellar night with television’s dreamiest man played out very differently. That Christmas, before Alex went off and got famous, Layla had teased her about her missed opportunity and bought her a pack of fluorescent, glow-in-the-dark condoms to keep handy just in case she ever got so lucky again. She didn’t. She’d been wearing blinkers when she met Marcus, moved in with him, started making long-term plans. What a mistake. The words “man” and “plan” might rhyme, but they were otherwise utterly incompatible.

The car pulled away from the terminal. Boston didn’t look very welcoming. A misty rain was falling, wrapping the whole place in gloom; the streets, the sea, the sky and everything in between looked grey.

Now that he wasn’t being scrutinized by any members of the public, a flirty smile lit up Alex’s features. His much-too-blue eyes twinkled, the corners creased.

“When do you start ripping my clothes off, Maggie? Tomorrow, is it?”

His deep voice did things to her that a girl in the back of a chauffeur-driven car should be ashamed of. How in heaven’s name was she going to get through the next few days if she couldn’t get her berserk hormones under control? She fidgeted, smoothing the grey fabric of her skirt under her palms. To stop herself, she locked her hands, as if she was praying, only to end up rubbing one thumb over the blue varnish on the other as if doing so might erase the color.

“The day after,” she replied primly. “And the general idea is to get you in clothes, not out of them. If it was a naked photo shoot you’d hardly need a fashion stylist.”

Alex laughed. He ploughed the fingers of one big hand into his jet-black hair. There was silence and then he hit her with a bombshell. “For the record, I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

She gulped. Her throat felt tight as if she’d tried to swallow a peach stone. “Oh, it’s no biggie.” She whooshed a hand through the air, as if sweeping his words away. Her heart thudded as if it had been surgically removed and replaced with a piece of rock. She wanted to kick herself. Not a biggie? Of course it was a biggie. It was the biggest biggie of all time. She’d been crushed.

“I should have called,” he insisted.

“I really truly didn’t expect you to.” She babbled out the brush-off. “I mean, I rang your mobile a couple of times.” Six – at least. “You had things to do.” She’d got voice mail and hadn’t known what to say. When she’d tried him that final time, Nick had answered Alex’s phone. She’d told him to give Alex her love and wish him luck. He’d promised he would.

A shiver ran through her as though someone was trailing icy fingers along her spine. When he hadn’t called back, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Her grandmother had warned her to keep her expectations of the male species extra low. It was safer than having shattered hopes. She hadn’t believed her. She’d gone into the adult world with an open heart. And she’d been hurt. Twice.

Although she was controlled on the surface, her mind was paddling like a duck’s feet underneath. She’d thought she and Alex shared something special. They almost had. Only he’d kept his feelings locked away. Maybe allowing her to get that close had been a step too far. He’d always been out of reach.

After the holidays everyone was buzzing with the news that he’d dropped out to make Mercy of the Vampires. At the time she’d ached, knowing that he wasn’t coming back to London. The disappointment had been excruciating, but she’d clung on to a thread of consolation. He hadn’t just dropped her. He’d dropped his entire life.

“It’s ancient history.” She gave a nonchalant shrug and a bright smile. She’d had an airy- fairy notion that, in spite of her grandma’s professed wisdom on the non-existence of soul mates, she might prove her wrong. She and Alex simply weren’t meant to be.

Then along came Marcus and she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her. She’d come back a day early from working away, turned the key in the lock, and walked into her home to discover her fiancé getting down and dirty with someone he’d picked up at the pub. She wasn’t even that attractive and she was at least ten years older than Maggie. Maybe twelve. The gut-wrenching shock had turned her cold.

“Anyway, I called you, remember? You were busy and Nick answered. I told him to wish you all the luck in the world, and … well, anyway … c’est la vie, as they say.”

One hand on his perfectly hewn-in-granite chin, an inscrutable shadow darkened his gaze.

“I apologize,” he rumbled. “It was inconsiderate.”

“It’s okay.”

She’d been miserable. She’d felt cut off and abandoned, but she’d understood. Like she’d understood why her dad had left her mum pregnant, and why her mum had left for Spain without her when she was only eight years old. Understanding why people left each other behind was what she did. It was practically a talent. And one that had come in handy when she’d walked away from Marcus. Bouncing back from the heartache was another matter, but she’d become quite good at that too. She’d dreamed up a foolproof method for guaranteeing that she’d never have to bounce back again.

The car sped towards downtown Boston. She turned away, feigning interest in the grey city they’d landed in, all the while scraping at one nail with another so that some of the blue peeled away revealing a pale streak. It was high time they put this clearing the air of Alex’s behind them. She decided to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

“I gather Mercy of the Vampires is going out with a bang.”

“About time too. The show has been running my life for a decade.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve caught episodes in hotels all over place. I’ve watched Jarvis and Jago wreak havoc in German, French, Italian, and Spanish.”

“You’re a fan of the show?”

“It’s kind of impossible to avoid it, frankly.”

“Well, it all ends in hellfire just before Christmas, you’ll be glad to know.” Maggie refused to let herself look at him. She kept on staring out of the car window.

“Rumor has it you go out in the sunlight with a string of garlic wrapped around your neck and Nick, I mean Jarvis, strangles you and then rams a stake through your heart, just to be sure he’s finished you off.”

“It could happen,” he joked. “And I don’t mean in the TV world. Nick’s not best pleased with me at the moment. In fact, that’s an understatement. He’s furious. We’ve got a day of back-to-back promo here in Boston tomorrow. And the same again in New York next week. If he can find a string of garlic that’s long enough, I think he’d happily throttle me.”

Maggie knew she’d detected an atmosphere between the brothers. “Best strike Paris off your promo tour list. They use a lot of garlic there.”

“Nick had better watch it. It might turn out that Jago’s the one who can’t be trusted with a string of garlic.”

The deep rumble of his laugh gave her tingles. When she’d agree to style Alex and Nick, she’d been fascinated, and a smidge nostalgic. Part of her had wanted to prove that he was just someone she used to know. Only he was turning out to be a whole heap of fantasticness more than that, and she wasn’t at all sure how to deal with that.

Play. It. Cool.

She splayed her fingers and looked at her hands. She’d paint her nails sunshine yellow next.

Alex steeled himself the minute the car pulled up in front of the hotel. The driver opened the car door and he stepped out, throwing a quick glance about to see if Nick had arrived yet. Knowing him, he’d probably taken a spur-of-the-moment detour. Loyalty to his family came first, but the conversation he’d just had tugged at the frayed edges of his stoicism. He’d gone to LA for Nick, put his own life on hold, and forgotten all about Maggie. Something inside him sparked the moment she stepped onto the plane. She was lovely – with hints of the bubbly, colorful girl who stood out from the crowd he used to know. She’d changed, though. He couldn’t put his finger on it, exactly, but she’d become sort of buttoned-up.

He automatically glued on his sunglasses, despite a heavy sky and grey pavements slick with rain. He summoned a bellhop to take care of the luggage and stood back to play the gentleman, guiding Maggie into the all-mirrors-and-marble lobby with his palm placed protectively in the curve at the base of her spine. Despite the long flight he crackled with energy at her scent of wild flowers. A wicked knot tightened his gut. It would be tempting to see if he could unbutton her, prove that he could have the exact opposite of the soporific effect he’d had on her ten years ago.

The hotel was old and elegant with a smooth, marble floor, a grand carpeted staircase, and a glittering chandelier, which cast a welcoming glow over the lobby, where a clutch of smart Japanese tourists had gathered on bygone chic sofas and chairs, chatting animatedly over their cameras and shopping bags.

Ignoring Maggie completely, the immaculately groomed receptionist went to check Alex in. He took off his sunglasses and slid a glance in Maggie’s direction, gesturing with one hand. “You can take care of the lady first.” He only slightly growled. The receptionist’s face reddened.

“I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were together.” Recognizing what she’d just implied, her face burned some more.

She tore her eyes away from him and checked Maggie in, tapping manically at her computer keyboard, in case her colleague, who was answering the phone, finished talking and got to deal with him before she finished with Maggie. Normally he’d have been amused, tempted to play the game.

He was so ready to drop the whole Jago and Jarvis thing, couldn’t wait for the promo to be over. And right now he was more interested in Project Magenta. Shamefully, when he’d learned that Maggie was the highly rated stylist who’d been booked to work with him in Boston his first reaction had been “Magenta Who?” It hadn’t taken him long to figure out exactly who she was and curiosity kicked in. Regretful curiosity that he’d left things unfinished with Maggie.

When it was Alex’s turn to check in the receptionist switched from ultra-speedy to incredibly slow. She finally gave him his cardkey and he turned to speak to Maggie, but she was already attempting to push the big gold trolley laden with her baggage in the direction of the elevators. She was having trouble. One of the wheels was spinning in useless circles and instead of going in a straight line the trolley kept veering off to the left. A smile that started somewhere in his chest burst onto Alex’s face and cracked his superficial mask.

He strode across the lobby with purpose and caught her up.

“Where’s your bellhop?”

“Gone for a tea break, or something.”

She gave a shove. The dodgy wheel wobbled and the trolley didn’t budge.

“This is all I need,” she gasped. “To get stuck with no bellhop and the trolley-from-hell with a doolally wheel and a mind of its own.” She rolled her eyes. “Yay.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen. There are enough of them in my world already.” The comment earned him a withering look.

“What do you suggest?”

“Chill out, Maggie.” Since there was absolutely no sign of the bellhop, he hauled her small mountain of baggage off the less-than-useless trolley. “I’ll bring your stuff to your room.”

He picked up a heavy bag in each hand and headed for the elevators.

Maggie grabbed the handle of his compact case and wheeled it off, hurrying ahead to press the button.

“Haven’t you ever heard of travelling light?” He stepped into the elevator and dumped her bags on the floor.

“Not when I’ve got handmade bespoke tweed jackets to tote across the Atlantic because the Wells brothers can’t fit a UK photo shoot into their busy schedules and only have a two-day window in Boston that will work for them.”

She fixed him with her doe-eyed gaze. He always had been a sucker for the appeal of those come-to-bed eyes of hers. It was amazing he’d resisted her for so long when they were friends.

“Point taken.” The doors slid closed. “Which floor?”

“Two.” His fingers collided with hers as they both made to press the button. She pulled back as if he’d given her a static shock.

Was this what they called a blast from the past? She was certainly a temptation. Perhaps he should add something more watertight than “no flirting” to his action plan, like a temporary celibacy clause, for example. Technically, it should be a “no action” plan. What he should be doing over the next few days was getting to know her again, not weighing up her fling-potential. She wasn’t fling material. He looked down at the big bags at his feet.

“Strictly speaking I guess some of this is my baggage,” he mused.

A puzzled smile twisted her rosy lips. Her eyes sparkled. Even after seven hours on a plane, she looked very kissable.

“I guess,” she agreed, crossing her arms defensively.

Back when he’d landed Mercy, he’d wanted to call her. Badly. But he’d been afraid that if he did, he might turn down a golden opportunity and disappoint his mother and Nick. Maggie might have been the girl who’d rather sleep than have sex with him, but she’d also been the friend who could read him like a play script. He couldn’t talk to her, because if he had done, he’d have risked convincing himself to fly back to London, finish drama school, and audition for serious roles; something that met with his father’s approval.

That would have been out of the question, no matter how badly he wanted to do it. Their mother pulling strings only got them so far. The studio required both Wells twins, and the publicity mileage that came with them thanks to their parents’ celebrity. Without Alex, there’d have been no contract for Nick. No way would Alex have let his brother down, but with each new series, each new contract signed, he’d become more entrenched in a role he’d been lukewarm about at the outset.

Now that he was standing next to Maggie, his blinkers were off. His crassness ate at him. He should have said goodbye. Saying sorry, like it was only last week and he’d just forgotten to call, seemed inadequate. Leaving everything behind to follow his brother’s dreams had been tough, so he’d confined her to a compartment labeled ‘past’, along with all the other stuff he’d failed to deal with.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened with a ping. Maggie stepped quickly into the corridor, looking down the line of numbered doors. Alex strode out after her, carrying the baggage.

“Which room?”

She glanced at her key. “It’s right here.” She pointed to the door in front of her. “This one. You can go, I can manage now.” She tilted her head and smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

Did she have to have such a sexy smile?

“Open up and I’ll lift this lot in for you. I don’t want you rupturing something and failing to turn up to the shoots. I need you.”

Maggie huffed out a breath and did as she was told. She was loaded with the irresistibility factor.

“You’ve gone all chivalrous knight,” she laughed. There was a smoky glint in her hazel eyes and curls of amusement tweaked the corners of her mouth.

“What were you expecting? I haven’t turned into my TV character. Jago might be mysterious and moody, but that isn’t me.” He hesitated. He wanted to add, “I shouldn’t need to tell you that”, except he thought better of it. The way he’d treated her was distinctly unchivalrous.

Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “I know that,” she said. “Please promise me you won’t forget to channel a smattering of mean and menacing for the shoots, though, because I’m quite sure the magazine isn’t expecting me to stick you in a suit of armor.”

“Vampires in shining armor?” he chuckled.

“That’s what I’d call a drastic makeover,” she laughed, “And one guaranteed not to get me any follow-up calls. I’d like to raise my profile, not bury it without trace. Anyway, you needn’t worry, the looks I’ve got planned are very cool.”

He captured her gaze and the urge to play with her reeled him in. “I’m yours to do with as you please.”

The devil in him wanted to feel her blue-nailed fingers tear his clothes off, and make stupid, crazy love to her with the finesse their last encounter had lacked. These rogue thoughts weren’t helping his no-action plan.

She looked him up and down slowly. “Now there’s an offer I bet not many stylists would refuse,” she joked. “I just might have to take you up on it and give you a revamp!”

“Funny one! I like what you did there.”

She smirked and he grinned back, itching to press his mouth to her smile. He wanted to crush her lips, feel her mouth open beneath his, their bodies meld like molten metal. Forget the tea party. Boston could turn out to be Party Central. She was a whole decade more attractive right now than ever. Perhaps she’d turn out to be his party girl after all.

His? Where had that come from?

Arms crossed, she chewed her bottom lip, measuring him up. Was it wishful thinking to imagine she was mentally undressing him?

Reason set in and he grasped his case. “I’d better go. See you anon.”

Outside, on the safe side of Maggie’s door, Alex stepped quickly back into the elevator. He needed to find his room, and then he’d find the gym. Every muscle in his body had tensed. He hadn’t expected to have feelings for Maggie, good, bad or indifferent. He’d been hoping to make sure their almost-sex-disaster-fest incident was all in the past. There was more than enough animosity between him and Nick without adding awkwardness with the stylist into the mix. The attraction that had flared up between him and Maggie was infernally inconvenient.

Chapter Four

“Madly busy” summed up Maggie’s first day in Boston, which was just as well because it took her mind off Alex. Far from clearing things up and proving that they were both entirely different people at different places in their lives, meeting him again had given her an uneasy feeling that he wasn’t out of her system. She could fight it all she liked, but she’d been craving a little bit of Alex’s amazing sexual energy ever since he’d arranged her upgrade on the plane. That was ridiculous. She needed to focus on making him look great. Not that it would be a stretch. He was altogether too dreamy.

At noon she met Hannah, the photographer, at her converted warehouse studio, which was the base for the city shoot. After they’d discussed the brief, she put together the outfits, took Polaroid photos of them, and left everything ready on hanging rails.

She spent the rest of the day dashing around Boston picking up last-minute bits and bobs. Finally, she had a meeting with Natalie, the make-up artist, for a coffee and a quick chat about the looks she and Hannah were aiming for.

Anchored in a leather tub chair in a downtown coffee shop Maggie fought the buzz in her head planted there by Alex. The low hum of chatter filled her ears, and fresh aromas of newly ground beans swirled in the air. Normally she loved the smell, but she felt queasy. The prospect of working with the Wells brothers had turned into a witch’s brew of craziness that had set her nerves jangling.

“The magazine wants something dark and mysterious in keeping with the actors’ TV characters.” She took a quick sip of her decaf skinny latte. It tasted yuck, like she’d been chewing copper pennies. “It needs to be subtle,” she advised, setting down her cup and pushing it away. “Nothing too over-the-top.”

“Aw,” the make-up artist objected. “Let’s make ’em real spooky.”

“If you mean a trickle of fake blood dribbling from the corner of Alex Wells’ mouth, then no, I’m afraid not.” Maggie and Natalie laughed. “Pale and interesting is good, though. I have to warn you, it might be a bit of a challenge. I’ve met them already and they were both looking very tanned.”

Natalie was bursting with curiosity. “So what are they like? Have you worked with them before? I can’t wait.”

“I – um. No, I haven’t worked with them.” Natalie was so sweet and friendly that Maggie was tempted to tell her everything – all about how she knew Alex in a previous life.

Before he became famous.

Before she got a career as a fashion stylist.

Before she came to the conclusion that falling in love was much too risky, and that if she wanted a happy family, she was going to have to go it alone.

A sparkly, curvy twenty-something with flawless skin and a halo of dark corkscrew curls, Natalie popped a spoonful of froth from her cappuccino into her mouth. “Which one’s your favorite? Nick or Alex? I mean they’re both hot as hell, right? But if you had to choose?”

Maggie’s stomach did a somersault. Since this spur-of-the-moment styling job had come up she’d been preoccupied with work. So much so she’d lost track of days. It was over two weeks since she’d been to the clinic for the medical procedure that could change her life. She’d had artificial insemination with donor sperm. She had half a dozen pregnancy tests in her handbag and she hadn’t had the courage yet to do one. She was itching to find out the result. Was she pregnant, or wasn’t she? She had more important things to think about than discussing which of the Wells twins was the hotter.

“Oh I don’t know, Nick, I guess.” She mentally crossed her fingers against the white lie.

“No way!” Natalie picked up her coffee cup. She’d left a red lipstick print on the porcelain. “It’s Alex any day of the week for me. I’m dying to meet him.”

Maggie bit her tongue. Hitting the make-up artist with the details of her past connection with Alex would be ill-advised. She clearly had a bit of a crush on him. And as for announcing, “Excuse me, I just need to pop off and do a pregnancy test”? Well, that would be unprofessional in the extreme, and probably a bit off-putting.

Maggie steered the conversation back on topic, discussed colors, the clothes, the models, and the theme for the first shoot. Then she headed back to the hotel, feeling inappropriately light-hearted at the prospect of possibly running into Alex in the lobby.

Alex was nowhere to be seen. Maggie ended the day ordering room service and crashing out ready for an early start the next morning. She had a night of fractured sleep. Three times she woke up sprawled in the king-size bed thinking she should get up and do the pregnancy test. She didn’t. She had a mental block so strong it was as if something physical was preventing her from doing what she needed to do.

If the insemination was a success, it was because her donor had knowingly made a decision to create a life without being there. Her father hadn’t made that choice. He’d been a summer romance. Her mum was sixteen when she’d fallen in love with the golden-haired surfer boy from Australia. By the time she realized she was pregnant he’d left, and by the time she tried to tell him he was a dad, it was too late.

Her mother’s pregnancy had been a minor scandal in their seaside village. By the time her grandmother had got over the embarrassment, got used to the idea of her daughter being a teen mum, and decided that they should track down surf-boy Sam, he was dead. A seventeen- year-old adrenaline junkie, happy-go-lucky Sam had surfed a notorious point break two days after he arrived home. Taken out by a freak wave, he’d drowned on the reef. His parents sent a clipping from their local newspaper reporting his death. Maggie’s mum kept it in a shoebox under her bed with a load of photos and a heart-shaped pebble he’d given her. When she went to work in Spain she left the box behind, along with Maggie.

Technically, her father had been a sperm donor. So why shouldn’t a donor-sperm baby grow up to be as strong and independent as she’d learned to be?

Finally she fell into deep sleep. She always dreamed when she was jet-lagged, but usually she had a vague sense that she was asleep and only dreaming. This time the dream was so real that she woke up all spaced-out and it took a minute or so to register that the blissful scenario she’d been so immersed in hadn’t actually happened.

And she thanked her lucky stars it hadn’t. Because in her dream she’d slept with Alex, and her heart thudded, wondering if that embarrassing little gem was going to be written on her face the minute she set eyes on him. He’d stirred up a mess of emotions. She hadn’t just been a little bit in love with him, she’d been head over heels, and right when she’d not been able to resist him a second longer, he’d upped and gone and vanished from her world. She’d thought she was oh-so-over him, but the deep down, buried truth was that she’d gone on being hooked on him for much too long after he’d left. No one measured up to him. The guys she’d dated never stood a chance by comparison, because she didn’t allow them to. When she got anywhere near starting a relationship she let it fizzle out. Fearing rejection somewhere down the line, she pushed men away. Until Marcus. Marcus had taken her over, organized her, a self-appointed personal drill sergeant. She’d trusted him completely.

She felt raw. It didn’t help that her hormones had begun to whoosh around uncontrollably like fallen leaves being whizzed into the air on a gust of autumn wind. She wasn’t just as susceptible to the charms of Alex Wells as every other fan of the show, she was more so. She’d known him before he shot to fame – that was the trouble.

Awkwardness set in the moment Alex arrived at the studio. Hannah popped out for some takeout coffees, leaving Maggie to dress Alex ahead of Nick and the two models who hadn’t shown up yet.

The dream memory returned. It seared her mind’s eye with an image of hot, tangled bodies, obliterating reasonable thought processes. A sensuous picture of soft, warm skin and hard muscles filled her imagination; her lips seeking his, his mouth devouring hers, hands clasped, bodies entwined.

Trapped in tongue-tied silence, Maggie forced herself to focus on the brick walls and wood floors of Hannah’s warehouse studio. They helped ground her. Samples of photographic work dotted about the place gave her something more appropriate to visualize. She picked out a photo of white sailboats afloat on glassy water against the Back Bay skyline with powder-puff clouds in an azure sky, and honed in on that.

Outside, Boston basked under just such a perfect blue sky.

“Great day for it.” He oozed confidence. His drawl set off those hopping hormones again. He could make reading aloud from the telephone directory sexy without even trying.

“Couldn’t be better.” She ignored the fact that he was attempting to snare her gaze. She resolved to avoid looking him in the eye, if at all possible. If she did, he’d be bound to see all the things she’d dreamed in the night swimming in her head. Utter torture.

“Good day yesterday?”

“Um. Busy. Getting this lot ready.” She turned her back to him and stood at the hanging rail shuffling the clothes about a bit on their hangers, pretending to be absorbed in her work. “You?”

“The usual. Interviews. The final series airs here next week. And the big question on everyone’s lips is “How does Jago die?”.”

“What did you say?” Maggie grabbed a pencil and over-acted the need to score off a couple of items on her to-do list.

“I told them Nick – sorry, Jarvis – ties me up in a string of garlic, and shoves me out in the sunlight with a stake through my heart.”

Maggie turned to face him. “So it was you that started the rumor?”

“Actually – it was you! But I liked it, so I borrowed it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “So what does happen to Jago? Maybe I’ve lost the plot, but I thought he was the bad guy in this set-up?” Her tone was deliberately blasé, as if she wasn’t really that interested.

“Nice try, Maggie. I’m afraid I can’t let you in on that secret.”

“Not strangled by your brother in the sunshine with the garlic, after all? Someone should invent a board game. I bet there’d be a market for it. Great merchandising opportunity. It’s sounding more like a whodunit and less like warring vampire twins every minute.”

Wry tension twitched in the corners of Alex’s mouth. “It’s war. Make no mistake.”

Maggie guessed he wasn’t talking about their TV characters. “What’s up?”

“It’s no secret that Nick wasn’t ready for Mercy to finish. But I was. My leaving was okayed with the powers that be. They told the writers to write me out. Then the studio did an about face and cancelled the show.”

“I suppose it’s a question of balance. Without the good-vampire-twin-bad-vampire-twin thing going on there wouldn’t be much drama left.” Maggie chewed on the end of her pencil.

Alex’s shoulders tensed. He watched Maggie with deep concentration, mesmerizing her with his eyes, and lowered his voice, “I’ll swear you to secrecy. There’s a big twist in the final episode. Turns out Jago isn’t evil after all. He’s the good vampire and Nick’s character is the one that’s mad, bad, and dangerous to know.”

“I’m guessing he’s not very happy with that.”

“Let’s just say that’s an understatement.” He sucked in a sharp breath and scraped his fingers through his hair. “It was time the series ended. It had a good run. If we’d gone on any longer the characters would have dried up. People would have lost interest. It’s better this way. We’re ending on a high.”

Alex’s tension filled the air in the empty studio. He stared off into space. “Nick doesn’t agree with you on that?”

He let out a grating laugh. “Nick blames me for the show being cancelled. He’s livid.”

“He’ll come round.”

“He has no choice. He’s going to LA to talk movies. I’m going to London to do theater.”

“Cool.”

“It’s time for us both to move on with our lives, and he knows it. Even if he’s not ready to admit it.”

Alex’s moodiness and her wayward pheromones produced a terrible combination of angst and attraction. She wished Hannah would come back with the coffee, although she still had that weird metallic taste in her mouth. She didn’t want to be so interested, but she was itching to know if Alex had managed to find a way back into serious acting. She couldn’t picture him headlining a West End musical, somehow. “What theater are you doing?”

“Hamlet.”

“Wow. Shakespeare in London. That’s a far cry from vampires in LA.”

“That’s the general idea.”

“To be or not to be.” She put on a tone of ominous gravity.

Suddenly she blushed, thinking about her own date with destiny. She hadn’t done the pregnancy test. She told herself she’d been way too busy, but she was putting it off.

“To be honest, I’m ready to disassociate myself from the vampire gig. It’s been a blast, but it wasn’t part of my plan. I did it because Nick wanted me to, and because I didn’t want him to miss out on his big chance.”

“You went along for the ride.”

Alex let his breath go in a long sigh. “Enjoy the ride while you’re on it?” He paused and fixed Maggie with his gaze. “It hasn’t been all bad. Far from it. But Nick needs to get over himself. He’s much too into this promo tour. Vampires is over.”

“It’s over for you, but the fans are looking forward to the final series. It can’t hurt to big it up for a few more days,” she coaxed. Alex harrumphed. “And now you’re getting to do Shakespeare, like you always wanted to, so it’s all good.” Nick might be going to discuss a movie, but it didn’t sound like he had anything definite lined up. It was little wonder he was having more difficulty than Alex letting go of the series that had made him famous. “You got your dream.”

“You remember that about me?”

“Sure I do.” She looked down at her bright-yellow nails for a second. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His sexy mouth spread into a wide smile. He started to undo his buttons. And suddenly he was stripped to the waist.

“How do you want me?”

Maggie picked her jaw up off the floor. “Um.” She focused on the row of clothes on the rail. The hangers tinkled as she faffed. “Here,” she said, as if she was actually concentrating on her job. Really she was busy enjoying the view. His broad, bronze chest and honed muscles blew her away. His hands went to his belt buckle and she couldn’t help but notice the dark line that arrowed downwards into his jeans. “I need you to change into this lot.” She pushed a well-laden hanger into his hands before he could strip off completely.

Clearly he’d been around enough wardrobe girls not to feel bashful. Why would he? With that body! He was way too hot to handle, a one-hundred-and-ten per cent sexy fireball of a man. His fingers brushed hers as he took the clothes. The contact ignited fierce heat inside her. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She had to remind herself that it would have been insane to turn this job down.

A hot, half-naked Alex must feature in a high percentage of women’s fantasies. And she was living the dream.

Might as well enjoy it!

Everyone arrived together. Hannah with the coffee, Natalie with the make-up, and Nick with the two stunning flame-haired, pre-Raphaelite-style models. From then it was all go. Run off her feet, Maggie clicked into super-efficient mode, making changes to the clothes to suit Hannah, keeping a tight rein on Natalie to make sure that she didn’t do anything too scary with the make-up, generally trouble-shooting, and making sure that everything was absolutely fab.

At lunch they all went to a bustling café-bar near Faneuil Hall. The walls were covered with Boston Red Sox memorabilia. The place was packed. It made Maggie smile to see how the lunching office workers and shoppers made a production out of acting like they hadn’t noticed the famous Wells brothers. Not to mention the striking six-foot models they were with. Before she joined the others at the table Hannah’s assistant had reserved, Maggie ducked into the Ladies. She bolted the cubicle door, took a deep breath and dived into her handbag to dig out a pregnancy test.

“Maggie, is that you in there?”

Oh flip. It was Natalie. She thought about putting on a very deep voice and pretending to be a transvestite to get her to leave, but she liked Natalie and she didn’t want to freak her out.

“Yes,” she squeaked.

“Oh. My. Gosh. I think I’m in love. Don’t tell my fiancé, but Nick Wells is the most delicious thing on this earth.”

Maggie abandoned her mission to establish if she was or wasn’t pregnant and exited the toilet cubicle.

“Didn’t you tell me that Alex was the vampire for you – any day of the week?”

“That was yesterday, before I’d met them. Today …” Natalie sighed dreamily. “It’s Nick.”

Maggie nudged her with her elbow. “Fight you for him.”

“No way.” Natalie slicked on a generous layer of her signature red lipstick. “You can have Alex.” She paused with a minxy grin on her face. “Judging by the way his eyes were following you all morning, I’d say you have a better chance with him. And I don’t mean in your dreams.”

Maggie froze. Unless Natalie had supernatural powers, there was no way she knew what Maggie had been dreaming. Even so her words had an uncanny effect on her resolve to appear unaffected by Alex.

“You leave my dreams out of this,” she joked. “Come on, let’s get some lunch. I’m starving.”

Paralysis set in the moment she walked into the bar. The compelling rumble of Alex’s smooth-as-the-most-exquisite-chocolate voice resonated off the baseball-themed walls. The group was hanging on his every word – and so was everyone else in the café-bar.

“Maggie and I are old, old friends,” he said. “We knew each other in London, right before Nick and I moved to LA.” He stared directly at Maggie, and she stopped, hands hanging weakly at her sides. “Things moved pretty fast back then. I guess we lost touch.”

As his words trailed off Nick cut in. “The last time we saw Maggie she was wearing sparkly stilettos, red silk stockings and a verrrrry cute Santa suit! Alex had to lend her his best sweater so that she could go home on the London Underground without drawing too much attention to herself.”

“And reindeer antlers.” Alex’s cool Jago face brightened into a wide, winning smile. “Don’t forget the reindeer antlers.”

There were guffaws of laughter. All eyes turned on Maggie. The picture Nick and Alex painted didn’t exactly tally with her current blend-into-the-background image. In smart black designer jeans and black ankle boots, with a businessy white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck where she’d hooked her big, black oversized sunglasses into the vee, she aimed to look unremarkable. The laughing triggered a blush the color of a London bus – a glowing contrast to her monochrome look.

Great!

“And to avoid freezing,” she chipped in. “I’d like to point out that it was one of the coldest Decembers on record.”

“It was Christmas Eve, actually.” Alex spoke slowly. The piercing glimmer in his eyes sent shivers up and down her spine. She wished he would stop looking at her like that.

“Hence the Santa ensemble.” She made a face, shrugged, and held her palms out apologetically to the group.

Sitting on a bench seat at the opposite side of the table between the two models, Nick leaned forward and moved the things in front of him about randomly – the salt pot, his sunglasses, a coaster. He seemed to be watching his brother for a reaction. Alex didn’t say anything more. He stopped looking at her and stared off into the distance.

Maggie sat down at the table, picked up a couple of menus and handed one to Natalie, who suddenly closed her gawping mouth, as if for a fraction of a second she’d lost control of her features. Almost faint, not with hunger, but embarrassment at being scrutinized by every woman within earshot, and most of the men, Maggie’s fingers trembled. “So,” she announced, eager to close the subject. “Enough of the boring friends reunited stuff.” She rolled her eyes. One of the models sent her a sympathetic smile across the sea of drinks, menus and cutlery littering the rustic table top. “Should we order? What’s everyone having?”

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