by Maggie Cox
‘Maya, listen…’ Blaise was saying. ‘You deserve the best man that’s out there. Someone who can be the real hero I sense you need. But that man isn’t me.’ Regretfully he shook his head, dropping his hands in a futile gesture to his arrow-straight hips. ‘I don’t want you to go, and I’m not looking to replace you with anyone else—I swear it. But neither do I want to lead you on and make you hope for something that I’m just not in a position to deliver.’
‘Because you refuse to let a woman get close enough to even try? What you’re telling me is that you’d rather just “adore” as many women as possible and let the chance or possibility of something more enduring…something more meaningful…pass you by? That sounds like a pretty lonely, not to mention empty existence to me, if you don’t mind my saying so. Not that you give a damn what I think! And by the way…you’ve got me all wrong.’
With her heart pounding loud enough in her chest for her to hear every unhappy beat, Maya squared up to Blaise without flinching.
‘I’m not looking for a hero. All I want is a man who’s willing to spend the rest of his life with me because he loves me. I’m not looking for perfection. Just someone a little flawed, like myself, who’ll be as accepting of my less than perfect qualities as I would be of his. We’d work together to try and overcome them. And finally I want someone who doesn’t believe the grass is greener somewhere else—who is happy with what he already has. I want a man with the innate capacity to be loyal, as I would be loyal to him. I’m going out for that walk in the fresh air now, and when I get back I’ll be packing my bags.
She turned at the door, jerking her head towards the office she’d been occupying. ‘By the way, you’ll find the work I did this morning on my desk. You’ll have to hire somebody else to type out the rest, but I’m sure as long as she does what you want, is easy on the eye and obliging, you’ll hardly even notice that it’s not me!’
New York, six weeks later
‘Want to go for a beer or a cocktail somewhere?’ Shrugging into his cashmere coat in the theatre foyer, amid the crush of well-wishers and the congratulatory smiles of satisfied patrons, critics and colleagues, Blaise felt distinctly uneasy as his diminutive agent gave him one of her slow ‘I’ve got you taped’ assessing glances.
‘That lonely apartment you’ve been living in for the past month getting to you already?’ she probed, her small, cropped blonde head erect, hazel eyes narrowed like a cat about to pounce on some poor unsuspecting mouse.
‘I can get as much company as I need whenever I choose,’ he snapped back, glancing round as a pretty redhead squeezed deliberately by him—one of the ensemble actresses in the production—giving him both a coy and invitational smile before reluctantly disappearing through the rotating theatre doors when he didn’t respond.
‘That’s hardly in dispute, darling,’ Jane replied, eyes rolling. The edges of her scarlet painted mouth softened somewhat. ‘But when your mind is fixed on one particular person’s company alone not even Angelina Jolie herself could fill the gap. Heard from her at all since you came to New York…? Your sad-eyed raven-haired little temporary assistant, I mean?’
‘No.’ Appalled at how bleak he sounded, Blaise shifted from one lean hip to the other. ‘She has no idea that I left the UK a month ago. But then why should she? After she left I didn’t keep in contact. It was only after spending two impossible weeks in Northumberland trying to work on that damn play alone that I decided I finally couldn’t stand it and came here.’
Reaching for his usual acerbic humour to deflect any further near-the-knuckle questions from Jane, he defensively squared his jaw.
‘Are you thirsty or aren’t you? Even the most faded blooms appreciate the odd drink of water to stop them from shrivelling up and dying, so I’m told!’
She whacked him with her shiny patent leather designer handbag—hard.
The foyer had emptied quickly, and outside on the sidewalk umbrellas were hurriedly opening to face the downpour that was spilling from the skies onto the somewhat chilly New York night.
‘Faded bloom, my backside! At least I’m going back to my hotel to the man I’ve been married to for twenty years and who still thinks I hung the moon! Whereas you…’
Rubbing his arm where she’d hit him, Blaise scowled. ‘Whereas I am apparently destined to walk into the sunset alone…boo-hoo. No doubt you think I deserve it.’ He shook his head as if to shake off the deepening sense of gloom that made him feel heavy as concrete.
For six long weeks he hadn’t even had the guts to pick up the phone and speak to Maya, let alone beg her forgiveness… which was exactly what he should have done. Instead he’d let her leave, as if she was as dispensable and replaceable as one of the stack of inexpensive pens he kept in his desk drawer. He either had to face the fact that he was too scared to overcome the childhood fears his family life had left him with, give them up and move on—or realise that he was a genuine twenty-four-carat bastard who seriously needed the help of a good psychologist. All he knew was that nothing meant anything to him any more since he’d let Maya go…not even his work. Including the play that was currently setting Broadway alight after just two nights.
‘Seriously, I could do with a couple of drinks, and I don’t want to drink alone tonight. You’re about the only one I know who’ll talk straight to me and isn’t after something…I make no apology for my cynicism, but I do ask your forgiveness for any unkind remarks I may have made earlier. I was actually quite pleased when you rang me to say you were coming over here for a short visit to see how the play was doing. Can you forgive me for my previous bad manners?’
‘Sure I can. Lucky for you I was born with such a sweet nature.’ Latching onto his arm, Jane reached up on her four-inch stiletto heels and planted a noisy smacker on his cheek. ‘Plus I never could resist a handsome well-spoken man when he grovels so nicely!’
‘I’m not grovelling, so don’t get too carried away. I still only tolerate you because you’re my agent.’
‘Yeah, and next week they’re crowning me the Queen of England!’
‘No, no, no, Maya, querida! Let me get that. You mustn’t lift heavy things now, remember?’
Straightening up from the box of crockery she’d just been about to lift onto the granite worktop of her new flat’s kitchen, Maya glanced at her helpful friend Diego with a mixture of exasperation and gratitude. Sturdily built, with the shoulders of a flanker in a rugby team, the Spaniard had practically single-handedly packed and moved the contents of her old studio flat to her new two-bedroom abode down the road in Kensal Rise.
Never mind his usually macho sensibilities—he’d been like the proverbial mother hen round Maya ever since she’d confided to him that she was pregnant. Although not before he’d furiously vowed to ‘rough up’ the ne’er do well who had thoughtlessly got her in the family way, leaving her to face the prospect of motherhood on her own. When he’d told her that his aunt had a house in Kensal Rise that she rented out, and that the ground-floor flat had recently become vacant, Maya had increased her working hours for the temp agency to meet the new rent, and had even been putting a little by towards the day when she would have to give up her job completely to take care of her baby.
‘I’m not going to harm myself if I lift a few light boxes, Diego!’ she chided her friend, wincing as he deposited the full-to-the-brim cardboard box onto the counter with a little too much gusto and she heard something inside rattle alarmingly. ‘I’m only eight weeks pregnant, and I don’t even show yet.’
The Spaniard’s dark brown eyes visibly softened as they moved down to Maya’s still flat belly beneath her loose white shirt and faded jeans.
‘Yet the fact is that you are growing a little one inside you who needs you to be careful and not take unnecessary risks that could harm him or his mother.’
‘You know what, Diego?’ Her lips tugging upwards in an affectionate smile, exasperation forgotten, Maya touched her palm gently to his roughened cheek. ‘One of these days, when y
ou meet the right woman, you’re going to be the best father in the whole wide world.’
‘And if my wife is as good and beautiful as you, Maya, I will be the happiest man in the whole wide world too!’ His pleased grin was quickly followed by a concerned frown. ‘Does that crazy, irresponsible man of yours even know what he has done? What he has so foolishly given up?’
Maya flinched, her heart and stomach turning over at the thought of Blaise—at her profound longing to see him again, and at the dreadful hurt and sense of rejection she’d experienced when she’d had to walk away from him in Northumberland and go home. Acute apprehension also deluged her at the prospect of telling him she was pregnant with his child. She’d read in the papers that for the past few weeks he’d been in New York, overseeing the London play that had transferred there. But sooner or later he would be home again, and Maya would have to tell him her news.
After the initial great shock of discovering her condition, she’d been consumed with instant love and strong feelings of protection towards her unborn infant. In her eyes it was an utter miracle, and she felt truly blessed. Even though it wasn’t the future she’d dreamed of…to raise a child alone. But how would Blaise react to the news? Would he be angry or deadly calm? Would he reject the reality of her pregnancy completely and deny all responsibility? Or would he want to take charge and calmly make arrangements for the baby’s future like some distant, remote stranger, displaying no love or concern for the child’s welfare whatsoever?
‘He—he’s not a man that finds commitment easy, Diego. I think something must have happened when he was young to make him fear it somehow, but he won’t discuss it. I told you that. And, to be fair, I guessed that even before I—before we—’ She blushed hotly. ‘It’s unfortunate, but I’m sure when he hears the news he’ll want to do the right thing all the same.’
‘And if he does not,’ Diego growled crossly, folding his arms across his ample chest in his treasured FC Barcelona T-shirt, ‘as God is my witness he will have to answer to me!’
Hawk’s Lair, Northumberland
His eyes glued to the details of the art auction, and the brief words about it at the beginning of the newspaper article, Blaise sucked in a deep breath, heavily blowing it out again as he tried to get his head round what he’d just read.
‘Would you like some more coffee, my dear?’ Lottie was hovering beside him, keeping one eye on the sizzling pan of bacon and eggs she was cooking for his breakfast on the stove as well as stealing a curious glance over his shoulder at what he was reading.
‘Yes…I mean no, thanks. I’ve got to go and make a phone call. Excuse me.’
‘What about your breakfast?’ the housekeeper exclaimed, her voice dismayed as Blaise shot out of his chair and strode to the door.
‘Sorry, Lottie…I’ve got far more important things to think about this morning. Give it to Tom. I’m sure he’d welcome a second breakfast!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHEN the phone call came to an end Maya had to sit down, because her legs were shaking so much. She’d scribbled something down on the notepad she now gripped between her hands like a life-raft, and, staring down at what she’d written, she felt a hundred differing emotions storm through her like a cyclone. There was a burning sensation behind the backs of her eyelids, and suddenly tears were sliding and slipping down her cheeks in a hot stream. Not troubling to wipe them away, she slowly moved her head from side to side, as regret and a sadness almost too hard to bear welled up inside her.
‘It’s time to say goodbye,’ she whispered brokenly, ‘but I promise I’ll never forget you.’
A minute later she got up, put on her trench-coat because outside it had started to rain, locked the door, and then walked rapidly down the street towards the bus stop to catch a bus that would drop her off near Diego’s place.
Today was the beginning of a whole new life for her after what she’d just heard, and she needed to share her hopes and fears for the future with a friend…a good friend.
It was late in the afternoon by the time Maya got to Camden. The sky had darkened early because of the storm clouds that had gathered overhead, and most of the shoppers were heading homewards. Diego’s distinct, brightly painted coffee bar, with its blue-and-white neon sign flickering in the window, was almost empty. The man himself was behind the counter, avidly scanning the sports page in a newspaper, while his young assistant Maria was busy wiping down tables. He glanced up in delight when he heard the bell over the door jangle and saw who it was.
‘Maya, querida! How are you today?’ Moving round the counter with all the grace of a much slimmer man, he enveloped her in a fierce hug. ‘Is everything all right? I am surprised to see you when I know the smell of coffee makes you queasy in your condition.’
‘I couldn’t let a small thing like that stop me visiting you.’ Maya smiled, then realised Diego was examining her a little too closely, concernedly shaking his head. ‘You have been crying, querida… what has happened? Sit down and tell me everything.’
Her friend ordered Maria to bring her a banana milkshake—for the baby!—and they sat opposite each other at a newly cleaned table, under the eye-catching poster of a flamenco dancer dressed in sultry red and black decorating the wall behind them.
Having only just begun her story, Maya glanced round at the sound of the bell jangling above the door and sucked in a shocked breath. It was Blaise. She blinked hard to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, but she’d know that flawless azure gaze, the carved jaw and the chin with the sexy little crease down the centre anywhere. Her insides mimicked the same intense flamenco as the dancer in the poster.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, and her mouth felt dry as a sun-baked beach at the height of summer. ‘I thought you were in New York?’
‘I came to find you,’ he replied hoarsely, for long moments just standing still and surveying her. Maya knew her gaze must match his for sheer hunger as she stared back at him. He looked every inch the successful Broadway playwright, dressed in a stylish mackintosh, the gold in his hair glistening with damp from the rain.
‘I went to your old place and a neighbour told me you’d moved. She wouldn’t give me your new address, but she told me that a friend of yours owned this coffee bar and would probably give you a message for me.’
‘This is Diego,’ Maya murmured, her glance shifting away from his for the briefest second towards the older man sitting opposite her. ‘This is his place.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Moving towards their table, Blaise stuck out his hand.
The Spaniard made no move to take it. Instead he abruptly pushed himself to his feet, his expression definitely suspicious. ‘And you are…?’
‘Blaise Walker.’
‘So you are the man that—’
‘It’s all right, Diego.’ With a pleading look Maya managed to still what he had been going to say next. ‘I’m sure Blaise isn’t staying long…are you?’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I need to talk to you, Maya…however long it takes.’
‘I need to talk to you too. So maybe—maybe we should go back to my place? We can get a bus just down the road…’
‘My car’s parked round the corner.’
Feeling queasy, as well as apprehensive, Maya got slowly to her feet. With trembling fingers she attempted to refasten the buttons on her coat, but quickly gave up and left it open. Whatever she and Blaise had to say to each other, it wasn’t a conversation to be aired in public. Yet her stomach was fluttering wildly with nerves at the mere thought of being alone with him again. Not only that but probably having to say goodbye to him a second painful time after he’d said what he had to say and then left.
‘Diego, I’ll give you a call later on tonight, okay?’
‘Make sure you do,’ the Spaniard replied gruffly, now regarding Blaise with not just suspicion but also antagonism in his eyes. ‘I am not happy about how you looked when you came in, and I want to hear what you were going to tell me and
make sure everything is okay.’
‘It will keep…and I’ll be fine. I promise.’
Saying nothing, his expression implacable, Blaise held the door open for her to precede him out into the rain.
She’d lost a little weight, he saw with a flicker of alarm. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the smooth, perfect skin stretched over them like pale satin, making her spellbinding emerald eyes seem huge and her luminous beauty even more incandescent. But so many feelings, sensations and fears kept hitting him that it was difficult for Blaise to stay with one train of thought for long. Ever since he’d let her go the only thought that had been and still was constant was that he missed her. He missed her so much that it was as if he’d been inflicted with some agonising chest wound that wouldn’t heal. He’d called himself all kinds of imbecile for doing what he’d done, but insults and fury hadn’t helped. Not when there was still the same underlying fear that daily ate away at his soul—a corrosive terror that almost paralysed him and stopped him from doing what his heart all but begged and pleaded with him to do.
When he’d seen that article about the art auction in the newspaper it had finally galvanised him into action…finally told him it was time to conquer his fears and make the one decision he needed to make above all others.