was out of sorts. Alex had no right to pry. Anybody would think it was his baby the way he kept going on about it.
“Have dinner with me tonight? We can celebrate or commiserate – whichever.”
“I’m not doing the test. I’m waiting until I get back to London.”
“Have dinner with me.” His deep drawl gave her tingles and wore down her resistance. They could go back to Boston right now and never see each other again. She didn’t want that. On all sane levels she knew that kissing Alex had been a mistake. In theory. In reality? Oh. My. Gosh! That kiss was dreamy.
She needed to focus. She wanted to say goodbye to Alex properly this time, and having dinner with him seemed like a good way to do that. Anyway, she didn’t fancy another meal on a tray in her room with one eye on her laptop.
“Okay.” Heart-stopping kisses aside, styling the Wells twins had been amazing; and it wasn’t going to do her CV any harm.
The more time she spent with Alex, the more Hot Vampire Guy and the friend she’d been close to merged into the same man. Her heart told her not to let that happen. Too late. It had happened. For years he’d vanished into thin air, replaced by an impostor who inhabited television screens and newspapers. She’d begun to see through that, and she liked what she saw. Dinner couldn’t hurt, but it was high time they stopped messing about. “We’d better lay down some ground rules.”
“It’s dinner. Not a space mission.”
She was determined to nail this friends thing. That’s where they’d started out a decade ago and that’s where she wanted them to finish. “I need to make something clear,” she insisted.
“Shoot.” A lazy smile curved across his lips. Darn it. There’d been a sticking plaster on the crack in her heart from his half a seduction and desertion, but she’d been over him for a very long time. She’d flirted with him, and it had been lovely. She might be star-struck and hormonal, but her heart was rock solid. She needed to set out some conditions, because so far her resolve to Alex-proof herself hadn’t really worked.
“No cheesy lines and no dodgy vampire moves.” Alex laughed and his smile grew impossibly wider. “It’s not like it’s a date. Just friends?”
“Cheese is off the menu,” he promised. “But I can’t make any promises on the vampire moves.” He quirked an eyebrow. “After ten years of Jago they’re part of my DNA.”
“I’m a cheap date, huh?”
They were sitting in a wharf diner. Reflected light glowed on the dark water. Headlamps from planes landing at the airport punctuated the night sky.
Ketchup, mustard, and a napkin dispenser sat neatly at the ready on the formica table.
“You’re not a date. You’re … just Maggie.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.” Her eyes were full of challenge.
“Take it as a compliment.”
He’d kissed her because he wanted to. He shouldn’t have. He thought he could find something he’d lost, recapture a feeling he couldn’t name. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
“Right. Okay. I’ll do that.” She lifted the laminated menu card.
“Were you expecting a swish restaurant?” He watched her face for a reaction. He’d been working on it, but it was impossible to forget that they’d very nearly been lovers. Their failed night together had left him wondering what if? He’d overstepped the mark. That kiss had smashed his no-action plan to smithereens.
“Well, yes, I suppose I was.” She paused. “Only because of who you are now. Actually, I like this place. It’s very ‘old Alex’.” She smiled. Kissing her on the beach had fired up a chain reaction of attraction and temptation, flickering in his heart like the frames of an old celluloid cine film.
“Whatever that means? There isn’t an ‘old’ me, or a ‘new’ me.” They only existed in her head, two versions of the same person. “Not unlike yourself.”
“Meaning?” Her greeny-brown eyes glimmered.
“The new Maggie’s very stylish.” Alex was treading on eggshells. “The old Maggie wore more color.”
“I went off color,” she said sharply. “Neutral colors suit my work. They give me a professional look. I blend into the background and all my fashion focus goes on my clients.”
“I get that it’s all about Brand Magenta, the only color is in the name. Surely you can relax on the dress code in your downtime?”
“I could; I just choose not to.” Actually she had eased up a little, he realized. She’d put on a graphite t-shirt with an asymmetric neckline and a swirly butterfly print etched on it in a lighter shade of grey. “I stopped liking myself in color.”
“I like you in color.”
He lifted his hand to his chin. He’d been clean-shaven for the photo shoot earlier. Now his skin was rough with a day’s growth of stubble. He wanted to reach out to her, only he didn’t know how. Something about her was closed off, a guardedness she’d let go of at the beach. Was this image thing more about hiding than looking professional?
“Hannah recommended this place,” he said, changing the subject. His fingers brushed her soft hands as he took the plastic menu from her and put it back in its holder. “Her uncle owns it. It’s a breakfast joint. But it happens to have a spectacular view. She said if I asked nicely …” He lowered his voice to a whisper. And paid handsomely. “…Uncle Marvin would open up and cook lobster.”
Maggie’s eyes sparkled with surprise. “Just for us?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is lobster à la Uncle Marvin any good?” There was a cheeky glow in her not-exactly-green-not-exactly-brown-eyed gaze.
“Apparently so. Let’s find out.” Not being on a date felt quite good. No reading between the lines. No expectations. Just Maggie. With her freckles. And her lips. And that sparkle in her eyes.
Over the last two days her curves had been infinitely distracting. A necklace with a bright amber stone dangled in the dip of her top, tempting his gaze into the out-of-bounds zone. He’d resigned himself to not doing inappropriate stuff like thinking about the color of her underwear. He needed to work on the “just friends” thing, although kissing her at the beach had been a knock-out detour.
Not in the habit of having to resist temptation, trying not to want to seduce her had turned things upside down, inside out, and every which way but straightforward. What’s more, he was interested in her. Too interested. He didn’t need to know why she was using a sperm bank to have a baby, but he wanted to understand.
The waitress came and stood at Maggie’s shoulder, notebook in hand and pen poised. Alex looked up. He recognized her gawp. He’d seen that look on so many faces. He knew what was coming next.
“It is you, isn’t it?”
Just a second, I’ll check. He shot an apologetic glance at Maggie. She smiled back. Her eyes twinkled. “Yes, it is,” he told the waitress.
“I knew it!” On the verge of an incomprehensible prattle, the woman physically wobbled, as if standing on the edge of a cliff. He’d been here before – numerous times. “I said to Marvin, it’s him. It’s got to be. It’s that vampire guy – Jago,” she trilled, delighted. “Some of the customers said you were in town, taking press photos, or something, so I knew it could only be you.” She drew breath. Alex waited for her rush of enthusiasm to die. “Marvin’s not a fan of Mercy of the Vampires. He’s