“You got lucky in the genes lottery. That’s my point. No matter what way it happens, life’s genetic bingo. Besides, my baby will be legally entitled to contact “Donor Guy” …” She made air squiggles. “…When he – or she – is eighteen, so it’s all good.”
“I respect your decision,” he said, his face hard set. “But I don’t have to like it. As I see it, your bingo game is missing an essential piece.”
She seethed. “Oh? And what’s that?”
Alex’s lips almost tipped up into a smile for half a second. “Love,” he said simply.
She cursed herself for having started this conversation. She had enough love for a crèche full of babies. It was guys she couldn’t handle.
“Thankfully, I don’t have to consult you about how to ruin my life.” She struggled to keep her cool, and out came a Freudian slip. “Run, I meant run my life,” she corrected. “What’s it to you anyway? I don’t have a problem with AI. Why should you?”
Alex’s granite expression darkened some more. With a long finger he touched the furrow between his knitted brows. “It’s irrelevant – I know. And I have no right to an opinion – I agree.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I used to care about you, Maggie.”
“Well, for your information, this is my baby and nobody else’s.” She hesitated. “And if I’m pregnant …” She held back, desperate to avoid a rant. She couldn’t help herself. “And only if, because according to the clinic there may be a sperm motility problem, and I might have to try again.” She drew breath. “If it doesn’t work first time, when it does happen, I’m going to love my child for who they are on the inside.”
Alex held up the palms of his hands. “You’re absolutely right. It’s none of my business. It’s your life. I’ll butt out.” Silent for a moment he suddenly bowled her over with his elusive smile. “And I know you’ll love your baby unconditionally. Even if you get one with pointy elf ears!”
The tension evaporated. They looked straight into each other’s eyes and burst out laughing. Her insides melted. Electricity hummed in the air between them.
“Yes, even then,” she agreed. “Although, you’re being completely ridiculous. And you know it.”
Whatever misgivings he’d had about her announcement she appreciated his lightening up. Her maybe-baby plan was out in the open and it felt good that she wasn’t keeping a secret from him. She might be his stylist but she’d spiraled into territory that was way beyond old friends picking up where they left off. She’d have to be careful with that. Really, they were different people now. She’d changed inside. He didn’t know that. And she didn’t know the faintest thing about him. In a moment of weakness she’d leaned on him as if he was still the person she knew a decade ago, when actually, he was a stranger. Relaxing into their old familiarity could only lead to trouble.
After she’d gone, Alex went to the bar and perched on a stool. He ordered single malt Scotch, no ice, and sat swirling the amber liquid around in the glass. Eventually, he knocked a mouthful back. He inhaled the smoky aroma just before the whiskey hit his taste buds; its heat burned his throat.
Maggie’s news blind-sided him. She knew next to nothing about her dad and yet she wanted to bring a child with only half an identity into the world. He didn’t know who his biological father was, but it sure as heck wasn’t Drake Wells. Another gulp slid fierily into his stomach. Just because he was hung up about not knowing who he was, it didn’t give him the right to judge Maggie.
“Hey Bro!” Alex looked up to see Nick standing there, all blonde hair and easy smile, and still wearing the tweed jacket from the fashion shoot. He ordered a beer and pushed a coaster about on the bar while the barman uncapped the bottle. “I talked to my agent. She reckons it’s a done deal for this action movie in the spring. The big name they had lined up baled. The part’s mine if I want it.”
“Cool.” The muscles in Alex’s neck and shoulders relaxed. His jaw unclenched. If Nick was over blaming him for the studio axing Mercy, there’d be less tension on tomorrow’s shoot; not to mention the weekend they had scheduled, the New York premiere of a movie they had cameos in, and their mother’s annual charity gala. At the Empire State Building this year, it promised to be an extravaganza on a scale that should just about keep their mother happy.
“It looks like Thursday’s meeting in LA is a formality. I fly out tomorrow night after the Cape Cod shoot.”
“Just make sure you’re in New York on Friday. You’ll only have a studio to answer to if you miss the premiere of The Magician of Arden, but fail to turn up at Cassandra’s charity gala on pain of death.” He rolled his eyes, made a gruesome sound, and ran a finger across his throat.
They both laughed guardedly.
“She’ll be auctioning us off as instant kiss-o-grams again this year, I presume.”
“Uh-huh.” Alex nodded slowly, relieved that the tension between him and his brother was finally easing. “You presume right.”
Nick picked up his beer and drank in long slugs straight from the bottle, which glistened with ice-cold condensation. He set his half-quaffed beer firmly down on the bar. “I just saw Maggie in the lobby. Man, is she ten years hotter, or what?” His almond eyes were trained on Alex. “So what’s the score? Any chance of you two picking up where you left off?”
Alex felt a stab of protectiveness towards Maggie. For all that he’d been tempted to finish what they’d started with a fling, it wasn’t going to happen. They’d shaken on it. He wouldn’t be bending his rules.
“Absolutely not. It’s out of the question.”
“Shame.” Nick picked up his beer, set it down again, and pushed the bottle about on the bar. He abruptly changed tack. “Everyone loved the looks she came up with today. I have to admit I wasn’t keen on the tweed at first, but hey …” He held his arms out in a ta-dah way, “It’s grown on me. I’m keeping the jacket. Might even wear it in LA tomorrow.”
Alex laughed. He couldn’t help it. He and Nick had been different peas from the same pod their whole lives.
He fixed on the strip of pink light behind the bar. Maggie had touched a nerve. He buzzed with nostalgia. He’d thought about her for a long time after he’d left London, wished he’d seen her one last time to say goodbye. If he had, he might have caved, gone back, finished his degree, tried his luck in the theater, fallen for her … After a while he’d thought about her less often, until finally he’d blocked her out completely. When he’d deleted Maggie from his phone he’d deleted her from his life. He had a chance to change that. Would she give him a makeover? He’d like to lose the Jago connection. He could use a cool new image. There’d be no harm in asking.
Nick tightened his fist around his beer bottle. “I guess things are working out for the best after all,” he admitted. “I know it’s some other actor’s cast-off action hero part, but it’s progress.”
“You’ll be stellar. They’ll forget they ever asked the other guy.”
Nick let out a tense laugh. “I still don’t think you were right about Mercy. The vampires hadn’t run out of steam.”
“You get to be an action man and I’m going back to what I really wanted to do in the first place.” Alex fought his rising hackles. He clinked his glass against the green bottle in Nick’s hand. “It’s win-win!”
He could see that something was playing on Nick’s mind. His brother stood bristling, a tower in tweed. Features taut, he went for it, spilling out what was bugging him, unable to keep it in a second longer.
“The thing is, Bro. I went to London for you. I talked you up on a morning chat show and two radio interviews over there. And what did