What If He’s the One. Kathy Jay

beyond belief.

      “It’s really good to see you, Maggie.”

      He challenged her with his wicked eyes. If only just sitting beside him didn’t take her breath away. Blast his blatant sex appeal. Everything about his body language screamed an invitation to play. He made her want to smile in spite of herself.

      “You too.” She lowered her eyes only to find herself making a study of his muscular thighs in dark denim. He exuded masculine vitality from every single pore. “I’m looking forward to working with you,” she blurted, adding a second too late “and Nick.”

      Alex turned back and gave her one of his rare smiles. He was devastating when he did that. Not that people got to see him smile much. He was way too cool. She’d done an internet search to check out the looks that they used on the show. She’d unearthed infinite pages of Alex channeling his vampire character Jago – all dark and compelling and smileless. His smile was infectious. Maybe that’s why he didn’t do smile-for-the-camera. Perhaps he’d spent ten years perfecting an image of supreme indifference to save women from themselves. On the receiving end of Alex’s wicked, wide smile she might as well be weightless, as if she’d boarded a rocket for Mars and flown off into space. All rationale eliminated, she had mush for a brain.

      Wound-up, spaceship Maggie returned from outer orbit. Alex Wells had been on planet La La Land for ten years. She’d be crazy to wonder if they could go back to square one – on any level, never mind the events of that last night. He wanted to get up to speed. Make sure she had enough experience for the styling job. She’d worked with celebrities, even a handful of really big names, but mostly she got hired by a well-heeled social elite, who desperately wanted to look like A-listers. She’d be fooling herself if she imagined Alex, with his ”old mates” interrogation and his upgrade, was interested in her beyond the end of this week. He was all fake charm and chumminess because he wanted her to make him look good. She wondered how he handled the publicity, given that he’d loathed being its focus before he got famous.

      “Come on. Out with it, Maggie. Spill the beans. What have you got in the pipeline?”

      She tensed and bit down on her bottom lip, aching to tell him to mind his own business and literally clamping her mouth shut. Alex did not need to know about her recent visit to a private fertility clinic.

      “I can’t say,” she said evasively. “Nothing’s finalized yet. But I can tell you that if it works out, it’s going to totally change my life.”

       Chapter Two

      High-voltage silence reigned while they ate. Even after they’d been served coffee and things had been cleared, electricity still thrummed in the air. Alex shifted in his seat. He stared out the window at the vast, empty sky. He should choose a movie, freeze out the atmosphere by plugging in his headset.

      He’d wanted to break the ice ahead of working together. He hadn’t expected to be affected by her. Something about her had changed. Her business-like appearance was a surprise, but it wasn’t that. She was different beneath the surface. Perhaps she still felt strange about that night they’d spent together. He certainly did. There’d been that awkwardness when he’d taken too long to find a condom. In truth, the delay was deliberate. He’d known he and Nick wouldn’t fail the audition. He shouldn’t have been starting something with Maggie. When he’d kissed her the morning after, he’d hoped with all his heart that he’d be back after Christmas and that life would continue like before. Cutting her off seemed obvious at the time, kinder than stringing her along. He couldn’t go back to London, and her coming to LA was out of the question. She was a year and a term into her degree. Remembering the girl from a dot on the map, who grew up with her mess-with-my-Maggie-and-you’ll-have-me-to-answer-to grandma made him smile. More than once she’d got on the Underground heading in the wrong direction. That’s what had drawn him to her. She’d belonged to a place completely outside his world and she was better off not getting dragged into it.

      Seven hours on a plane was too much ice-breaking time. Why hadn’t he suggested a breakfast meeting? She was fixating on a magazine as if she had to memorize it.

      Maggie read the in-flight magazine from cover to cover. Including the horoscope page. All twelve star signs. Irritatingly, the cover story was about Drake Wells, Alex’s father, and how at the age of sixty-four he’d reinvented himself and discovered new-found fame starring as the villain in a hit sci-fi movie. In the duty-free section she picked out a new fragrance, which promised to be “beyond zingy”. Its apple-green bottle appealed to her. She made a mental note to try some at the airport on the way home. A preserving jar bursting with rainbow-colored jelly beans gave her a hankering for peachy-pie flavor. She’d definitely get some of those. Disgruntled, she stuffed the magazine into the seat pocket. Drake’s face, handsome, but not in the least bit like Alex’s, stared back at her.

      On edge, she stared into space and caught sight of Nick Wells. Her eyes popped open. She hadn’t realized he was on the flight. There seemed to be no getting away from Wells men. He was schmoozing a flight attendant; the one with the candy-pink pout. A moment later he vanished behind the curtain, with the pretty woman in hot pursuit. The toilet-occupied light popped on. Maggie glanced around the cabin. Had anyone else noticed?

      Alex had. He rolled his eyes, implying he hadn’t seen a thing.

      It was impossible to ignore him.

      “Please tell me they’re not doing what I think they’re doing. People don’t, do they? Not in the real world?”

      “That depends what you’re thinking.” He was just the right amount of unshaven. His white shirt accentuated his tan. With some of the top buttons undone the fabric fell open in a loose vee. Her eyes were drawn to his broad chest. Amazing pecs hid under that designer shirt – she’d watched the TV show. She’d seen the evidence. “I guess they’re renewing their membership.”

      “Sorry? What?” Maggie’s cheeks glowed. The burning memory in the back of her head had come out of storage despite her efforts to contain it. It was in the front part of her brain. It wasn’t likely to go away anytime soon.

      Her one-night-flop with Alex had given her more to daydream about than most fans of Mercy of the Vampires could lay claim to. Shame the night of giving in to temptation had faded into a fiasco.

      “Keep up, Maggie. Nick and his pick-of-the-day are fulfilling the terms and conditions of the mile-high club.” He narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully. “Have you become a bit of a prude?”

      “Certainly not.” She wasn’t about to let him make her feel like a fuddy-duddy. “Sex plus a toilet cubicle don’t add up to fun times in my book.”

      “Perhaps we should put that theory to the test. I might be able to change your mind.”

      Is he for real? The mile-high club seemed more fantasy than reality. Dead set on proving that she was as worldly as the next person, she raised a brow and blurted, “Bet you’re a fully paid-up member already, right?”

      His seductive eyes sparkled. “Is that a proposition?” His ve-ry sexy drawl sent party poppers of attraction bursting through her. She was absolutely not going to repeat her past mistake with this guy. A faint smile twisted his lips. “Relax, Maggie. I’m kidding. Anyway, we’ve kinda been there, nearly done that. Minus the altitude factor. Remember?”

      He’d mentioned the unmentionable night.

      “How could I forget?” Oh the shame. The embarrassment! Was that what this upgrade had been about? Getting things out in the open. She was none too sure how much air-clearing she could handle. Her throat was dry. She’d better get a grip. Her night with Alex didn’t matter anymore. Except – she’d gained an immensely unforgettable one-night-disaster, and she’d lost a friend. Instant unfriending! Alex smiled his potent smile. Did he have to bring this up? “Our one night non-event. The least said about that the better.”

      “You