‘Yes, yes. You look lovely too,’ said Rhona, shaking her head.
‘Now come on, let’s get up there and get it done.’ Rhona opened Netta’s door and closed it after she and Mo were both out of the car. ‘This way.’
She bustled ahead through a labyrinth of passages and doorways, showing them down a curved corridor to an intersecting room on the left. Inside, the red carpet set-up they’d seen at the front had been replicated in front of huge lights and a photographer. Netta blinked. It seemed even weirder now that she could see the scheme in real life.
‘Morrison, Netta,’ boomed a man striding in their direction. ‘Charlie Tunbridge,UK Yeah. Let’s make this happen, shall we? We want to make it as natural as possible. Mo, you know the deal. Just pretend you’re doing the real thing and we should get our shots pretty quickly.’
A young stylist hurried them to the start of the carpet. ‘We’ll get some shots of you walking onto the mark,’ she said, adjusting Netta’s hair. ‘And then, when you’re on the mark, we’ll get a few poses there too.’
Mo held his hand out for Netta’s. His engulfed hers, wrapping it in warmth and easing the runaway tremors. He gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Look around a bit while we’re walking,’ he said. ‘Like people are trying to get your attention.’
He stepped out onto the carpet. The rapid-fire flash of the camera blinded Netta, but she did her best to look like this craziness—walking down a fake red carpet, holding Morrison Maplestone’s hand, wearing a Chanel gown—was normal. They hit the mark and Mo scooped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. Netta instinctively placed her hand on his lapel and looked over her shoulder.
‘That’s it, guys. Great,’ called Charlie. ‘Now look at each other, pretend someone’s just said something funny. Let’s get a little in-joke vibe going on.’
Netta’s face was closer to Mo’s than it had ever been. His breath was warm and minty as he laughed and Netta had a desperate urge to feel it on her neck.
‘Alright, looking good, kids,’ boomed Charlie. ‘Let’s get a couple of you looking at Netta’s outfit, Mo. That’s it. Perfect.’
Mo held Netta’s hand and stepped back, admiring her dress for the camera. He lifted her hand and moved closer, bringing it to his lips. His kiss landed on the back of her hand like a butterfly. Light. Beautiful. Gone too quickly.
‘Oh, yes! That’s the stuff.’ Charlie was on his feet. ‘Could we get a proper kiss, guys? The readers will eat it up.’
Mo looked at Netta, his eyes deliciously darkened. ‘What do you think?’ he whispered.
Netta’s chest burned with adrenalin, her limbs fizzing. ‘What doyouthink? You’re the one with the—’
‘I think yes.’
Mo’s voice had lowered again and it resonated in Netta’s chest, shortening her breath as she nodded her agreement.
His dimple deepened as he dipped his face to Netta’s. He kept her butterfly-kissed hand clasped in his, anchoring her, before resting his other hand on her hip. Netta’s heart bashed against her ribs, crowding her starved lungs as she tipped her mouth to his.
The world stopped spinning for a moment as they stayed like that, noses almost touching, breath mingling, lips close.
‘That’s it, nice and quick, guys,’ barked Charlie. ‘It’s just a photo, not a porno.’
Netta’s face creased into laughter and as her lips parted, Mo met them with his. His hand tightened on her hip and she melted, returning a kiss that felt like a hell of a lot more than just a pose. She instinctively raised her free hand to the side of his face, her fingers finding the hollow behind his jaw, the delicious rasp of his stubble under her palm and the scent of his cologne on his pulse sending a flood of want through every nerve in her body. His kiss caressed her top lip, and her hand moved to his chest, his moving to the small of her back, pulling her into him. His mouth was warm and soft on hers, their bodies drawn together as the camera flashed, capturing the image but not the moment. Not the feeling. Not even a thousand words would be enough to describe it.
‘Righto, that’ll do. Let’s take a quick break,’ called Charlie. ‘I’ll just have a look through what we’ve got. One sec.’
Netta was the first to pull away.
Mo looked dazed, quickly removing his hand from her back. ‘Sorry,’ he said, flustered. ‘I— Was that too much?’
Netta gulped and shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She broke his gaze and smoothed her dress to give her shaking hands something to do. Looking up, she caught Rhona staring at her and Mo, one eyebrow raised almost to her hairline and her mouth arranged into a thrilled O.
‘Yep. Yep. We’ve got it, people.’ Charlie sat behind a laptop, his face pinched in concentration as he scrolled through the photos. ‘Let’s wrap it up. Thanks, Morrison. Netta. That was great.’ He strode over to them, still standing on the mark. ‘We’ll get these online straight away. Bloody camera phones in the pocket of every bugger and their mother have slaughtered the whole notion of an exclusive. We can’t risk anyone sneaking anything onto social media before us. Now, Netta, about the interview. We’d like to get it done as soon as possible. Obviously tomorrow is Christmas Day so that’s out, but our writer can come to you on the twenty-sixth if that suits?’
‘Um, yeah. That’ll be fine,’ said Netta, measuring her breaths in an attempt to recover from the kiss. Mo left her side to look at the photos with Rhona and Netta lowered her voice to say, ‘The article, it’ll be my side of the story? Just mine?’
‘Netta, I can’t wait to make it rain shit on Carlton. The story will be all yours, and we’ll look after you. But don’t hold back, okay? We need all the juice. Capiche?’
Netta nodded. ‘Got it.’
‘Netta!’ Rhona was waving her over. ‘Let’s go inside and find your seat. Mo’s off to do the real red carpet. I’ll sit with you till he gets back.’
Mo’s face creased into a smile, the lines fanning out from his eyes almost meeting his dimple. ‘The photos are beautiful.’ He held Netta’s gaze for a beat. ‘I’ll be back as quick as I can.’
