What If He’s the One

“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.