Kathy Jay - What If He’s the One

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.

“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.