She gathered up the silk of her dress with one hand, and they climbed up the kerb to the first waiting area – the logo-crowded backdrop.
‘Sorry about this,’ Alex murmured in her ear. ‘It’s really weird, but you have to stop and give them a good picture. Sometimes it stops them hassling you later.’
She nodded, her throat too dry to speak.
A queue of stars were waiting to be photographed, all of them making their slow progression towards the entrance. An acclaimed Shakespearean veteran stood between where they, and a musical star further up the steps, stood. At intervals, the stars would stop for interviews, photos or autograph signing.
It was the weirdest queue she’d ever been in, and she’d gone to theSound of MusicSing-a-long last year where one group of people had dressed up as the lonely goatherd and his goats. They’d even had wire frames above their heads to look like puppet strings. This felt much the same, people nonchalantly waiting in line while wearing a variety of outfits from black tie to Met Gala outrageous.
Alex guided them to a position that was marked with a tiny black-taped cross on the carpet. Unsure of what she should do, she stood awkwardly at his side, shifting on the spikes of her heels.
Cameras flashed and clicked once more in a frenzy of light that made her turn her face instinctively away, leaving her temporarily blind as a roar of shouts rang in her ears. The shouts were all confusing instructions that contradicted one another.
‘ALEX, OVER TO THE LEFT.’
‘WHO IS SHE?’
‘RIGHT!’
‘WHO’S YOUR DATE?’
‘SMILE, LOVE, FOR GOD’S SAKE!’
‘LOOK LEFT.’
‘WHO IS SHE?’
‘LOOK AHEAD.’
‘RIGHT!’
Her panic and uncertainty were so unlike her, she had a weird sense of losing herself, like she was experiencing the moment outside of her body.
Alex’s knuckle stroked beneath her chin, gently guiding her face to tilt upwards and look into his ocean eyes. Suddenly the noise of the press disappeared, and all she could see was Alex, the sharp cut of his jaw in stark contrast to the softness of his expression.
‘Just remember the posing advice you gave Hannah.’ The low rumble of his voice rippled over her like a comforting blanket.
‘Yes,’ she answered weakly, followed by a much stronger, ‘yes.’
She could do this. A few photographers were nothing. She’d dealt with worse. She’d not even blinked when a builder had walked up to her in A&E carrying his hand in a Tupperware box. If she could handle that, she could handle anything. She straightened her spine, shifted her feet and moved her free hand to her hip, slipping into a more confident and hopefully glamorous pose.
The shouts grew more incessant.
‘YES! LEFT, LEFT!’
‘RIGHT, RIGHT!’
‘STRAIGHT AHEAD, LOVE!’
Alex dipped his dark head to her ear and a shuddering heat ran through her. ‘You’re a natural, so beautiful.’
It was like a shot of pure adrenaline, flooding her body with confidence and joy. She gave the crowd a beaming smile, but it was Alex and not the photographers who’d made it happen.
The brush of Alex’s hand skimming up her back to her nape made her look at him again. Piercing blue eyes flicked between hers, and then his head dipped slowly forward. He wasn’t going to kiss her here, was he? Hypnotised, she wasn’t sure if she was up or down. Her only anchor was Alex and she wanted to clingon to him for dear life, but she was afraid he would disappear in a puff of smoke.
This wasn’t like the sweet kiss on the roof terrace.
There was heat and passion as his arm swooped around her waist and drew her against him, his lips pressed firm against her mouth. She gasped and his tongue teased at the open invitation, almost breaking their rule.
