Anything for You Ch. 04

"It's just, Alice says this Marco guy's quite something," she went on, still watching me closely. "And mega rich. And she reckons that you and he could..." Her eyes gleamed for a moment. "You know."

"Rox!" Appalled, though not surprised to discover Alice had shared that particular delusion, I groaned softly. "No, Idon't know, okay? Marco is a business associate. I'm not interested in him in any other way. He's a friend, that's all."

"Like Drew."

I could feel her speculative look. Oh, Roxy was nobody's fool...

"Yes, like Drew," I said firmly, ignoring the fact it was now clear she hadn't believed a word of my earlier explanation. "Nothing's going to happen. Marco and I are going out to dinner, that's all."

"Right." She pursed her lips. "Well, if I were you, I think I'd still have a power nap. Put your head down for twenty minutes, take the edge off things. I'll come in and wake you up, if you like. Make sure you don't sleep too long. Or better yet... Ooh, yes." She appeared decidedly animated now. "You should have a caffeine nap. Rufus swears by them when he's got a late night gig."

Rufus was the somewhat unlikely name of her latest boyfriend, a lean and wiry twenty year old who wore even more make up than Roxy herself and played drums in a local band. "A caffeine nap?" I repeated, not comprehending.

She nodded. "You drink a really strong cup of coffee—andthen put your head down. It takes something like thirty minutes for the caffeine to get into your system, so that when you wake up again, you're raring to go."

"Blah." I shuddered at the thought. "There's no way in hell I could drink a cup of strong coffee right now. I'd be sick."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. "Not pregnant, are you?"

"Roxanne Delaney!" Hoping my use of her full name would impart just the right amount of outraged indignation, I flapped a hand at her. "Go away! Let me eat my lunch in peace.

And grimacing at the sound of her laughter as she left, I gave up my half-hearted attempt to eat my sandwich, wrapping it back up in the bag and dropping it over the side of the sofa.

Pregnant. Such an evocative word.

I leaned back, lowering my head to the armrest again, my hand creeping over my tummy as I wriggled into a more comfortable position. Would I ever know what that would be like? How it would feel to have another little person growing inside me? To watch the skin grow taut as my belly rounded?

To be fair, I didn't know it was impossible. Before I'd consented to become a living donor, the doctors had said there was no reason why I shouldn't bear a child, so long as my remaining kidney remained healthy and I was monitored throughout pregnancy. But that was before the operation. That was before I'd wound up in intensive care, fighting for my life.

My mother had been the one to raise the issue again, during an Outpatients appointment several months later. While I got dressed following the examination, she and the doctor had moved to a consulting room next door. And although I was fairly sure she didn't think I was listening—she'd lowered her voice to something akin to a stage whisper—I heard my mother ask the question I'd been too afraid to ask.

I bit my lip, recalling the lengthy silence that followed. I hadn't needed to hear all of the doctor's eventual reply to get the message. Having done some research of my own on the internet, I could fill in the gaps. If I managed to get pregnant, there was a risk that I'd be unable to carry the baby to term. And if I did manage to carry a baby for the full nine months, the effects to my own health might be catastrophic.

It was the reason I'd started taking the pill last year, when it'd started to look like my relationship with Joe might develop into something more intimate. It was also one of the reasons why my relationship with Joehadn't developed into something more intimate. I'd found it impossible to get over the fear that the pill might not work. That something might go wrong, that I'd forget to take one.

But Drew and I hadn't used any other contraception last night.

I squeezed my eyes closed, squirming as I remembered telling him we wouldn't need condoms. Had I been out of my mind?

What if, by some miracle, he'd actually got me pregnant? Because it happened sometimes, didn't it? Running a maternity wear shop, I'd heard numerous tales over the years. Babies born to women who thought they could never have them, babies born to women who thought they were going through the menopause, babies born to women who hadn't even realised they were pregnant until they went into labour. And yes, babies born to women who claimed they'd taken the pill religiously but still managed to conceive.

Why on earth hadn't that thought worried me last night?

It was a question for which I had no sensible answer. I'd wanted to know how he'd feel inside me, his flesh moving against my flesh—and oh God, it'd felt amazing—but that shouldn't have caused me to abandon common sense. And so what if the other day, I'd heard a customer say that for men, using a condom while having sex was equivalent to taking a bath with your socks on? Drew had been perfectly willing to use protection, after all. But I'd wanted him to enjoy being with me as much as possible. I'd figured that for an experienced guy, having sex with a virgin probably wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and letting him go 'bareback' seemed the least I could do.

Keeping my eyes closed, I released a shaky sigh, letting my fingers settle just beneath the waistband of my jeans. Pregnant... With Drew's baby? No. Weighing up the odds, it didn't seem at all likely.

Still, it couldn't hurt to imagine, could it? Just for a few moments. To conjure up the shocked but delighted look on his face when I told him—yeah, well, this wasmy fantasy, right? To witness my mother's reaction when I told her. And oh, to experience the wonder of noticing my body changing shape whenever I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror.

I could have my pick of the finest maternity clothes in the country. I could even wear the dark red chiffon dress from the window, I decided, smiling to myself at the thought. And suddenly, it was all too easy to visualise myself in that dress and see myself in Drew's arms, to picture us dancing, my bump—our bump—between us, Drew's eyes dark with love and pride as he whirled me about the room...

"Sam."

The voice seemed to come from a long way off. So far off, in fact, that I decided I could safely ignore it.

"Sam!"

Bugger. It was nearer this time, but I was warm and happy and oh-so-very comfortable. Couldn't whoever it was see that—and leave me alone?

"Come on, Samantha. Time to wake up now," another voice cajoled.

Alice's voice, I realised, at exactly the same moment that the words 'wake up' registered in my befuddled brain. "Wh-what?"

"I've made you a cup of tea," she said, slowly coming into focus courtesy of the light spilling in from the door that separated the shop from the kitchen. "Marco will be here in a minute."

"What?" Properly awake now, I sat bolt upright with horror, immediately noticing two things. One—it was almost dark outside. There was no way I'd only been asleep for half an hour. And two—I was still wearing my shirt and jeans. The shirt and jeans I'd planned to change out of when I went home at three o'clock. "Alice!"

"Don't look at me like that," she chided, her eyes narrowing as she thrust a mug towards me. "You looked exhausted when you came in this morning. I didn't have the heart to wake you up. You were sleeping like a baby."

Baby. Oh God, had I really been dreaming about having Drew's baby?

Mortified, I ignored the tea and turned on Roxy who was hovering nervously behind Alice. "But you said you'd wake me up! You said I should sleep for half an hour. A power nap, that's what you said!"

"Don't blame me!" Roxy directed an anguished glance at Alice as I swung my legs off the sofa to the floor, then hastily backed away when I scrambled to my feet and stumbled towards the light switch. "She wouldn't let me wake you up. I tried to tell her."

"Power nap?" Alice sneered as the room flooded with light. "As if sleeping for a few minutes could make up for having a broken night's sleep.

"But it can!" Roxy shot back hotly. "There's been loads of research done on it. If you don't believe me, look it up on the web."

"Oh." The older woman tutted, raising her gaze to the ceiling. "Like I've got time to skate the web."

"Surf the web," Roxy and I corrected in unison.

"Well you should make time," Roxy added. "There's loads of useful stuff out there. Just about everything you could ever want to know."

"I know all I want to know for now, thank you very much," Alice retorted with dignity. "And if there was something I did want to learn about, I'd buy a book. Remember those things? Printed pages bound together, spine down the back?"

"Hey!" I waved an imaginary white flag at my colleagues. "Hello? Rememberme? The girl you left to sleep all afternoon so that now she's only got—" My gaze lifted to the clock above the door.

Dear God, that couldn't be right.

"Twenty minutes?" I choked. "You let me sleep until ten past four?"

"Now, don't panic," Alice began, using the same soothing tone she kept for those customers who suddenly found themselves in labour whilst browsing through our selection of nursing bras. "I know twenty minutes doesn't seem much time—"

"You think?"

"—but I think you'll find it's more than enough, actually."

"What?" I watched in mounting disbelief as she motioned to Roxy who promptly headed back into the shop. "Of course it's not going to be enough! Even if one of you drives me home, there's not going to be enough time for me to change into something halfway decent and get back here by half past four. It's not even as though I know what the hell I'm going to—"

And then I stopped, my mouth dropping open in astonishment as Roxy, trying but failing to hide a smile, came back into the kitchen, a swathe of burgandy chiffon over one arm, a pair of gold strappy sandals dangling from her fingers. "Oh my God," I murmured, all at once understanding what they'd done. "Rox!"

"It was that customer this morning who gave me the idea," she said, dropping the sandals on to the sofa. "You know, the one—"

"The one who said it was a shame this was only a maternity dress," I finished wonderingly as she shook out the gown then held it against me, her head tilting on one side as she appraised her handiwork. "Roxy." My eyes filled with tears. She'd altered it exactly as she'd said she would, the excess material expertly taken in. "You shouldn't have."

"Hey!" There was a sharp note to Alice's voice. "It's one dress, Sam. We can spare it, surely? It's not like we do this all the time—and let's be honest, it's not as though we get many size ten ladies in here, is it? You know as well as I do, we'd have been lucky to sell this frock at full price—"

"Oh, Alice." Too late, I realised she thought I was annoyed. "No!" Swallowing hard, I gazed down at the dress and then at Roxy, my vision still blurry. "God, I love you both for doing this. It'sbeautiful. I can't believe you've gone to all this trouble just for me!"

Alice gave a dismissive shrug. "Roxy did all the hard work. And we thought if you needed any underwear, we've probably got something out the front that might do the job."

I nodded dazedly, unable to shift the lump in my throat. "I don't know what to say."

Roxy grinned. "Then don't say anything. Just get dressed and let me do your hair, will you? Ooh..." She gave an excited squeal, making both Alice and me laugh. "Hurry up! I can't wait to see how this looks."

Shooing them away, I closed the door and peeled off my clothes, grateful that if nothing else, spending the night with Drew had prompted me to don some of my more expensive lingerie that morning. It would've been criminal to wear greying underwear underneath this, I decided, slipping the flimsy fabric over my head and shivering slightly as the cool layers of chiffon rippled against my skin.

Much to my relief, it seemed to be a perfect fit. I'd been half-afraid Roxy might've been overzealous with her alterations. But when I tip-toed barefoot across the floor to sneak a peek in the mirror on the far wall, my breath left my lungs in a noisy rush.

"Sam?" Roxy called, her voice bright with excitement. "Can we come back in yet?"

Dazed, I reached for the door handle, unable to avert my eyes. And as I continued to stare, both Roxy and Alice appeared in the mirror, flanking me either side.

"Well," Alice pronounced at last, her gaze travelling the length of my body and back again. "Who knew that you'd scrub up so well?"

"Alice!" I heard Roxy admonish, watching in my peripheral vision as she reached around to plant a light punch against the older woman's upper arm. "She looks fantastic.Amazing."

"Oh, I know," Alice retorted matter-of-factly. "Just makes it all the more astonishing that we only ever see this girl in jeans." She picked at the newly ruched bodice of my gown. "Would you look at the tiny waist she's got?"

"It's hardly tiny," I spluttered, heat rushing to my face as Roxy's gaze targeted my midriff. "Look, this isn't really me, it's the dress! It's the way Roxy's altered it—"

"Bollocks," Roxy interrupted cheerfully. "I didn't do much. This isall you. Wow. And, hey, you haven't even got the shoes on yet. Hang on."

"Roxy!" As she scurried to the sofa to fetch my sandals, I laughed in disbelief. "You don't need to—Rox!" But before I could protest further, she dropped to her knees beside me and began sliding my left foot beneath the gold straps. "I could've done that for myself," I finished helplessly as she eased on the other, seeing the already unrecognisable girl in the mirror instantly grow inches taller.

"Just her hair now," Alice observed.

"I'm on it," Roxy said, reaching into her pockets as she stood up, producing a gold clip in one hand and a hairbrush in the other. "Doesn't need much. Just a—"

"Ow!" I gasped as she seized my half-arsed pony tail, yanked out the band and started brushing. Hard.

"—simple..."

"Ye-ow!"

"Twist," she finished triumphantly, giving my hair one final yank that felt as though she'd pulled out every strand by the roots before twirling it up behind my head, and securing it in place with the clip. "There. Sam, you great big baby. Open your eyes and take a look, okay?"

I opened the eyes I'd instinctively closed against the pain, only to blink hard as I stared at my reflection. It couldn't be me. Not really. This girl looked beautiful.

"Oh yes," I heard Alice say as we all stared, this time her tone rich with approval. It might even have been pride. "Perfect. Cinderella, youshall go to the ball."

Roxy giggled. "Shouldn't that be Sam-barella?"

The girl in the mirror started to smile—and so did I. It reallywas me. "Well, if I'm Cinderella," I mused wonderingly, "when do I get to meet Prince Charming?"

"Ah well,cara. Maybe I can help with that?"

All three of us jumped at the sound of the amused male voice. Alice was the first to recover. "Marco!" she exclaimed, making a bee-line for the tall, dark-haired man leaning casually against the door frame. "How long have you been standing there?"

"A while," he said with a grin before bending to kiss her on both cheeks, a gesture that made the usually staid Alice blush like a teenager with a crush on a pop star. "Long enough to see that Samantha has two wonderful fairy godmothers."

"Huh." I gave a soft snort as he came towards me, trying not to notice the way his eyes zoomed to the low cut V of my dress and wishing I'd had time to redo my make up. "Ugly sisters, more like."

"Hey!" Roxy protested—though with rather less vehemence than I might have expected. A quick glance at her face confirmed my instant suspicion; lust at first sight. But then Marco tended to have that effect on women.

Still smiling, Marco shook his head. "Believe me, I've encountered my fair share of ugly sisters in my time," he said, reaching me at last and opening his arms for the embrace he clearly expected. "And no one here deserves that title. Oh, Samantha!" He sighed with pleasure as I stepped forwards, planting more exuberant kisses on my cheeks before sweeping me close. "It's been too long. Far too long."

It would be wrong to say there wasn't a part of me that experienced a distinct thrill at being pressed so firmly against Marco's warm torso, his well-defined musculature clearly discernable through his cotton dress shirt. But I noticed the thrill from an almost abstract perspective, as though I was somehow observing my response from afar. "It's not been that long," I reminded him, laughing. "We met up at the exhibition in June, remember? Earls Court? Olympia?"

"Well, it feels like a long time. And look at you." He thrust me away from him, a hot wash of embarrassment flooding through me as he studied me at arm's length, his eyes warm with appreciation. "Never before have I seen you like this.Bellissimo.Molto bellissimo. Although..." His gaze narrowed. "Have I seen this dress before?"

"It's one of yours," Roxy piped up, seeming to have recovered her composure—although there was a tell-tale breathiness to her voice. "I altered it."

"Oh,did you now?" Letting me go, Marco slowly turned towards her. I watched in amusement as he eyed the girl up and down, his expression abruptly darkening. "You thought you could just alter my design?"

"Well, yes." But the normally self-confident Roxy's smile faltered under his intense scrutiny. "It was a fab dress to start with, but Sam hasn't got a bump. So I had to change it, didn't I?" She straightened up, squaring her shoulders. "Besides," she added defensively. "You just said she lookedbellissimo—that means 'beautiful', doesn't it?"

"Very beautiful," Marco agreed gravely. And then he smiled at me, the effect rather like the sun appearing from behind a cloud. "I take it this is Roxy?"

As I nodded, Roxy looked from Marco to me and then to Alice, her eyes widening. "Oh God," she breathed, looking ruffled. "For a moment there, I thought you were seriously piss—" She broke off abruptly as he started to laugh. "That's not fair," she accused, waggling a finger at him. "I thought—"

"You thought I might be one of those mad designers who get all precious about their creations?" Marco turned to me, still laughing. "Samantha! You haven't told her much about me."

"I didn't think I needed to. I can usually rely on Alice to do all that." Much to my delight, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alice start to bristle. "She must have left out the part about you being a terrible tease."

"I told her what she needed to know," she said indignantly. "No more, no less."

"Which was...?" I prompted, earning myself a horrified glare.

"That I'm rich and very good looking, of course," Marco said with a careless shrug, grinning as Alice's flush deepened. "What else could she possibly need to know?"

"What else?" I murmured in agreement, winking at Roxy.

"She told me that you're a great designer, too," Roxy said loyally. "Although that's pretty obvious. That dress, for example." She gestured towards me, tracing my outline with her fingers. "It's gorgeous. Have you never thought about doing something other than maternity wear? I reckon you could—"

Marco groaned, theatrically clapping his hands over his ears.

"What?" Roxy raised her mystified gaze to mine. "Oh God, what did I say this time?"

Never one to bear a grudge for long, Alice's smile reappeared as we exchanged glances. "Let's just say that's not something Marco particularly wants to do right now," she said, laughing as he pulled a face at her.