It could be worse. The story had turned out to be a hit with the no-publicity-is-bad-publicity charity organizer. She’d already texted her congratulations. Both on the great PR – and the news of the happy event. He’d have to take her aside later and put her straight.
Maggie had walked back into his life and he’d taken leave of his senses. He felt surprisingly calm, given his hatred of shambolic publicity. Growing up in the Wells’ spotlight was nothing to the full-on multi-media madness that periodically accompanied the on- and off-screen brothers. If anything, his parents had prepared them for things to come.
After the scene at the airport, one parent or the other frequently threatened to make the fact that Drake wasn’t the biological father of Cassandra’s sons public. All these years later and still neither of them had actually done it. He wondered how Drake would react to the false reporting that he was a soon-to-be grandpa. He hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash, like follow through on his currently dormant threat to disown his sons. His mother was on an even keel, and he didn’t want her upset.
He clicked haphazardly through the internet images. He didn’t give a toss about damaging his efforts to be taken seriously as an actor. What he cared about, above all else, was Maggie. Showing her off as his mystery date on the red carpet had backfired. He’d dragged her into a three-ring circus.
To top it all, it was getting harder by the hour to resist her. Last night she couldn’t have been clearer about wanting a fling, although frankly he figured rampant pregnancy hormones had skewed her judgment. It’s not that he wasn’t tempted. In different circumstances they’d have been tearing each other’s clothes off since the middle of last week, but right now no woman could be more complicated than Maggie. The desire to say yes burned inside him. Could he risk getting into something he mightn’t want to stop?
He glared at the time in the bottom right corner of the computer screen. He’d give her five more minutes – then he was going in. He jagged a finger at the touchpad, scanning photos. Maggie looked as lovely as any of the A-listers and every bit as gorgeous as the Manhattan elite who’d wangled invitations to the movie screening. His mouth was dry. A rock had taken up residence in his throat. He swallowed. It refused to be shifted. He should have snuck her out a side door and into a cab. What was he thinking when he pulled the stunt with the horse and carriage? It galled him to admit it, but having her here was rapidly turning into one hell of a media muddle.
Weirdly he quite liked reading that he was going to be a father. He must be going crazy. He’d be starting to believe what he read in the tabloids next.
He had a really strong sense of déjà vu. Five years ago, he’d read the report that he’d got engaged to Rachel. He’d cared about her, but he hadn’t had any intention of asking her to marry him. She’d gone ballistic. The fallout from press intrusion had been disastrous, and this could get messy too.
He clicked onto another screen and he couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face.
Cute!
There was another picture of Maggie in her I Heart NY tee and stars-and-stripes leggings. All he could do was hope she’d see the funny side of this. The headline read “Cinderella of New York City”, and the horse and carriage was hilarious. Looking on the bright side, the not-so-perfect Cinderella moment had harnessed some great impromptu publicity; the fairy-tale angle worked brilliantly for the children’s charity the Wells family supported.
He heard Maggie coming. He closed the laptop and stood up, hands in pockets. He’d have to break the media intrusion to her …
Wow!!!
She walked into the room, elegant, sophisticated. And in black. He wished he’d been more insistent about the dress code. He hoped his mother wouldn’t be abhorrently rude, but he wasn’t counting on it, especially in the light of the grandma allegations. Volatility was her default setting.
As far as he was concerned Maggie looked great. He was getting used to her monochrome tendencies. He couldn’t care less if she was wearing multi-colored polka dots instead of the customary Wells Wish Foundation colors, but she looked truly stunning, shimmering in shades of black. He should at least warn her about Cassandra’s pink and blue theme, and give her the heads-up on the press speculation.
Press photos? Or dress code? Given the choice he’d ignore both topics and stay right here addressing his impulse to finish what they’d almost started much too much time ago already.
He needed to get her out of his system, move on. He wanted to believe that he could be her friend. He really did. But every time he made a stab at it, he ended up more confused. It was a non-starter. Did she want a fling? Did she want someone to hold her hand at her first baby scan? Did she want someone to pick out a buggy and adorable dinky clothes? What did she want exactly? The more he thought about it, the more he figured that what she required was a gay best friend. He was much too attracted to her to be a good friend, no matter how badly he wanted to try.
Once upon a time he’d imagined that if there was anyone on the planet it might be worth trying to be more for it would be Maggie. Angry at being at the center of his parents’ latest public spat, hurt by harsh criticism from Drake, he’d been a mess that December when he’d quit university. Maggie had snuck past his defenses and gone straight to his heart. He shouldn’t have gone there. When he realized that he’d let her get too close, he’d frozen her out, and if he’d felt guilty about it then, what he felt now was worse; deep and strong and unquantifiable.
He squashed it. Blocked-out feelings were an improvement on messy ones. He’d watched the love bleed out of his mother when her marriage had failed. Seeing someone he loved self-destruct because he couldn’t love them enough, give them all that they needed from him, would be worse than any other personal failure he could imagine. He couldn’t risk doing that to Maggie – and her child. The stakes were much too high. He wasn’t a one-woman-forever guy. Falling in love and making commitments wasn’t for him.
Maggie looked achingly seducible. She didn’t want a forever guy, and he couldn’t be one, so why not get this thing between the two of them out of the way and let her go?
“You look a million dollars.” The cliché was inadequate. Gorgeous didn’t cover it. Chic, understated, beautiful, her hair was piled up with diamantes sparkling enticingly here, there and everywhere. He wanted to pull her into his arms and remove each jeweled hairpin slowly until her soft curls unfurled into his fingers. She’d left an artful strand falling in a corkscrew tendril at the pulse point in her neck. He stepped forward, reached out and cupped her face. Her make-up was flawless. She’d matched smoky eyes to the dark shades of graphite, black and grey in her figure-hugging dress. He stifled a groan and curled one finger in the frond of loose hair on her neck.
Her eyes flashed confident challenge. “No vampire moves. We made a rule.”
“Uh-huh,” he said in a husky tone he barely recognized as his own. “Rules are made to be broken.” He dipped his head slowly and placed his lips against her neck. Her scent rocketed through his senses. He hardened. He raised his head. He shouldn’t kiss her, but he ached with temptation.
“If you kiss me, you’ll ruin my make-up and if I have to go back in the bathroom to fix it, I may never come out.”
A deep chuckle rose up from his diaphragm. Kiss her was exactly what he wanted to do.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. She was doing a very good job of appearing not to feel the attraction between them. She felt it, all the same. It shimmered in her dilated pupils.
“It’s just as well we have an important event to attend. Otherwise I’d be tempted to risk it.”
She wasn’t taking any chances. She turned and started to walk to the door. He took in the expanse