What If He’s the One. Kathy Jay

for the final series of their top-of-the-ratings television show, Mercy of the Vampires. It was all very last-minute and a bit of a shock.

      The flight attendant, a blonde bombshell with a candy-pink pout, checked her boarding card.

      “You’ve been upgraded to Business.”

      To her right, bursting at the seams, Economy buzzed with passengers stowing carry-ons.

      “I have? How come?” She almost high-fived Blondie. She’d lucked in. For once. Delighted to be moving up in the world, she turned left.

       Yay.

      Then again. Not so yay. Of course there was a drawback. The empty seat was smack-bang next to super-sexy vampire actor Alex Wells. In this position many women would have imagined they’d died and gone to heaven. Not so Magenta. She winced. She’d braced herself for working with him in Boston. She hadn’t planned on travelling with him, or being bowled over by his fabulousness. These days he was just another celebrity clothes hanger. It was her job to pick him out some knock-out fashion items. Unusually for her she was lost for words.

      He flicked her an arrogant glance up and down from behind dark glasses.

      “Hey.”

      She reeled. One rumble was enough to make her heart drop into her freebie, perk-of-the-job designer boots. “Hey.” Her terse echo masked intense, self-conscious attraction. With a perfunctory smile, she sat down and snapped on her seatbelt.

       Big comfy seat. Masses of leg room. Nice.

      They ignored each other through the spiel about life jackets and no smoking in the toilets. She picked up the emergency-procedure leaflet and gave it the benefit of her undivided attention for longer than was strictly necessary.

      After take-off a star-struck flight attendant batted her eyelashes at Alex with a dose of not-so-professional allure. “Complimentary champagne, Sir?”

      He removed his sunglasses. “Don’t mind if I do,” he quipped, infamous Wellsian charm much in evidence. How did he manage to pull off that cool twinkle? He turned his penetrating gaze on Magenta. “Join me?”

      “No thanks.” She declined the bubbly, and the flight attendant substituted champagne with orange juice.

      Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “What happened to your party-girl tendencies?”

      She tried him with a couple of lame excuses. “I’m detoxing. Anyhow, alcohol and jetlag don’t mix.”

      He was having none of it. “Go on. Be a devil. You used to be fun,” he joked. “A. Lot. Of. Fun.” She hadn’t seen him for donkey’s years and here he was, large as life, all flirty and fabulous. She gritted her teeth. She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, so she needed another excuse for not drinking. She could hardly claim to be a recovering alcoholic. That would be insensitive given his mother’s history of stints in rehab.

      “I’ve just finished a course of antibiotics and, anyway, I’m counting calories.” She tipped her head to one side, exuding fake nonchalance.

      Alex sipped from his flute. “No champagne for you, huh? That’s tough.” He checked that the flight attendant was out of earshot and whispered so she wouldn’t hear. “It’s not properly chilled. It pretty much tastes like fizzy bath water – if that’s any consolation, Maggie.”

      The mini champagne bottle looked perfectly chilled. Was this Alex being considerate? She didn’t know what she’d expected from the man who’d walked away without saying goodbye, but it definitely wasn’t quips about tepid champagne.

      His incendiary eyes ignited a touch paper of acute embarrassment topped off with a sprinkling of nostalgia. Her heartbeat skipped, like an awkwardly timed hiccup. She laughed, jittery. His voice was all actorly. Posh – sort of. Not marbles – more velvety, like rich, dark, melted chocolate. So much for having got over the effect he’d had on her in their student days.

      He sounded kind of mid-Atlantic, half-Brit, half-American. De-lish. And altogether too smooth. What was it about that soft rumble? He made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention.

      “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.”