- -
- 100%
- +
Allegra just looked at him pityingly. ‘You’ve never worked in women’s fashion, have you?’
‘And I dare say I never will,’ said Max without the slightest regret.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Now you’ve worn a flowery shirt, who knows what will happen?’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ he said glumly.
There was a silence, not uncomfortable. Lost in thought, Allegra was looking out of the window at the imposing façades along Piccadilly. It was long past the rush hour, but the traffic was still inching through the lights. They could do with a decent traffic pattern analysis, Max thought, doing his best to keep his mind off the tempting line of Allegra’s throat or the coltishly sprawled legs revealed by the short flirty skirt he had been trying not to notice all evening. It was a pale mint-green, made of some kind of floaty, gauzy stuff, and she wore it with a camisole and a pale cardigan that just begged to be stroked. Darcy had cooed over its softness when she reached over and ran her hand down Allegra’s sleeve, exclaiming the way women did over each other’s clothes. Max had watched, his throat dry, and he’d fought the weird compulsion to push Darcy aside and stroke Allegra himself.
It was all very unsettling. He’d never given any thought to what she was wearing before—other than to boggle at the shoes she wore sometimes—so why was he suddenly acutely aware of the way her skirt shifted over her thighs when she sat down, or how some silky fabric lay against her skin?
Her face was partly turned away, and what he could see of her cheek and jaw was soft in the muted orange glow from the street. It was just this stupid assignment of hers, throwing them together in a way they’d never been before, Max decided. The sooner they got back to normal the better.
* * *
Ignoring Allegra’s protests, Max ordered a large pizza the moment they got in. Allegra collapsed onto the sofa, rubbing her poor toes and moaning about the calorie count, but her mouth watered when the pizza arrived.
‘I suppose I could have a tiny slice,’ she said.
They sat on the floor, leaning back against the sofa with the pizza box between them. Allegra lifted a slice and took a bite, pulling at the stringy cheese with her fingers as she chewed. She would regret it in the morning, but God, it tasted good! And Max was right; she was already feeling better.
Closing her eyes, she pushed the calorie count from her mind and savoured the taste and the contrasting textures: the smoothness of the tomato paste, the chunky onions, the rubbery cheese, the bite of chorizo.
‘Mmm...’ She pushed a stray piece of cheese into her mouth and opened her eyes only to find Max watching her with an odd expression. ‘What?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ he said, looking away. ‘You ought to eat more often if you enjoy it that much.’
‘Are you kidding? I’d be the size of a house!’
But in that brief moment when their eyes had met, something had shifted in the air between them. Something that reminded Allegra uneasily of the night when Max had not kissed her.
The last thing she ought to be remembering right now.
She really shouldn’t have had so many martinis. No wonder she was feeling so odd. Why did she suddenly feel as if she had to search around for something to say to break the silence? This was Max. She’d never needed to make conversation with him. Apart from that night, the one she wasn’t thinking about. But now the silence between them thrummed with an unease that left her heart thumping inexplicably.
To distract herself, she picked up another piece of pizza. ‘You’ll have to do better than pizza when you invite Darcy over to supper.’ There went her voice again, wobbling ridiculously up and down the register.
‘I’m inviting Darcy to supper?’
‘It’s your second task,’ she reminded him through a mouthful of pizza. ‘The perfect boyfriend is not only sophisticated enough to enjoy cocktails, he’s also a home-loving guy who can cook a delicious meal.’
‘Well, I hope Darcy likes a roast, because that’s all I can do.’
‘Better make it a nut roast. She’s a vegetarian.’
Max stared at her in consternation. ‘A vegetarian? You didn’t tell me that!’
‘I didn’t want to bamboozle you with too much information at once.’
‘You mean you knew I’d back out,’ he grumbled.
‘Come on, Max, you make it sound like she eats babies! They’re only vegetables. I’m sure you can manage something. It doesn’t have to be complicated, but you do need to cook it yourself. Libby’s got a cookbook with some good recipes in it.’
Glad of an excuse to get away from the oddly strained atmosphere in the sitting room, Allegra pushed the last piece of pizza into her mouth and jumped up. Licking her fingers, she went into the kitchen and came back bearing the recipe book.
‘Goat’s cheese ravioli...that sounds nice,’ she said as she flicked through the pages. ‘Roasted vegetable tart...leek risotto...there’s loads in here you could try.’
She handed the recipe book to Max, who looked through it without enthusiasm. ‘Emma used to do all the cooking,’ he said.
‘Maybe she would have liked it if you’d done more,’ said Allegra.
‘Emma loves cooking,’ he said defensively.
‘I’m sure she does, but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t have appreciated it if you took a turn occasionally. You know, this is exactly the kind of thing you should get out of this exercise,’ Allegra went on, warming to her theme. She was feeling more herself again, thank goodness. ‘You’ve got a real chance here to learn how to please her. To show her that you’ve changed, that you’re prepared to make an effort for her. I don’t think you should give up.’
Max eyed her suspiciously. ‘You seem very keen for me to get back together with Emma.’
‘I’m keen for you to be happy,’ she corrected him. ‘And you seemed happy when you were with her.’ It was true. Not to mention that she had been happier when he had been with Emma. There had been none of this uneasy awareness then. Max had just been someone to come across at the occasional family party—his family, not hers, naturally; Flick wasn’t big on jolly get-togethers—to share a quick, spiky exchange for old times’ sake and forget about until the next time.
It wasn’t that Max had been dull, but his life was so far removed from Allegra’s that she had never really looked at him until that awkward evening when something had clicked in the air, as surely as a bolt sliding into place. She’d been able to convince herself that that had been an aberration, especially when he’d met Emma, but now...it was making her nervous. She shouldn’t be feeling jittery around Max. She shouldn’t be noticing his mouth or his hands or the fact that beneath that shirt he wore was a lean, muscled body. It was all wrong.
The sooner he got back together with Emma the better. Then everything could go back to normal.
And clearly Max thought the same.
‘I was happy with her,’ he remembered. ‘We had so much in common. We were friends! I still can’t believe she’d give up everything she had for some guy she’d only known a few weeks.’
‘It won’t last,’ Allegra said confidently.
‘I didn’t realise you were a great expert on passion!’
She forgave him the snide comment. Emma was still a very sore point, that much was clear.
‘I’ve done my share of falling passionately in love, only to wake up one day and think: what am I doing?’ she told him. ‘Trust me, Emma will do the same, and you need to be there when she does. You need to show her that you’ve listened to what she said and that you’re prepared to do whatever it takes to get her back.’
‘Don’t tell me: you’re writing the Glitz agony column this month?’
‘You may mock,’ said Allegra with dignity, ‘but it’s good advice. If you really want Emma back, you should start paying attention and, in the meantime, get in touch with her. Send a text or something, no pressure.’
‘And say what?’ asked Max, who was at least listening, if unwillingly.
‘Just say you’re thinking of her,’ said Allegra. ‘That’ll be enough for now.’
* * *
‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this.’ Max was in a grouchy mood and Allegra had to practically push him along the street towards the dance studio.
She had booked a private lesson so that Max could learn how to waltz before the costume ball. Darcy was thrilled by the idea, a fact that Allegra had yet to pass on to Max. ‘I can’t wait,’ she’d confided to Allegra. ‘I’ve never been out with anyone who knew how to dance properly.’
It would be Max’s hardest test, but Allegra was determined that he would succeed. It wouldn’t be much of an article if she had to report that he could manage some chit-chat over a drink but that when it came to really making an effort he had flunked out.
Besides, she was longing to learn how to waltz herself. Not that she had anyone to waltz with, but maybe her prince would be waiting at the ball. He’d be tall, dark and handsome, and unaccountably stood up by his date, and he would twirl her around the ballroom in his arms while Max was impressing Darcy with some nifty footwork.
Allegra’s fantasy ground to a halt as Max balked at the sign on the door, an unfortunate pink decorated with fairies.
‘We’re not going in here?’
She could practically see him digging his heels into the concrete and she took his arm in a firm grip. ‘There are no fairies inside, I promise. You just have to be brave and get past the door!’
Grumbling, Max let her manoeuvre him inside and up some stairs to the dance studio. Afraid that he would conveniently forget the arrangement, Allegra had gone to waylay him outside his office after work. She’d hung around on the pavement, feeling conspicuous in her pencil skirt, cropped jacket and funky boots, and deeply unimpressed by the style standards in civil engineering. Male or female, everyone who came out seemed to be safely dressed in sensible dark suits.
Allegra had twisted her ankle out to admire her studded suede boots. She would hate to work anywhere that dull. She hadn’t seen a single outfit with any colour or flair. If this was the environment where Max spent his days, it was no wonder he had such appalling dress sense.
Hugging her arms together against the cool autumn breeze, she’d shifted from foot to foot as she kept an eye on the door. If Max didn’t come out soon, she would have to go in and get him.
And suddenly there he was.
He’d pushed through the doors with two other men. They were identically dressed in suits and ties. Max wasn’t the tallest or the best-looking, but for some reason Allegra’s heart kicked when she caught sight of him. He was laughing at something one of the others said as he turned away, lifting a hand in farewell, and he ran lightly down the steps, scanning the street as he went.
He was looking for her. The realisation made her heart give another odd little jump and she was smiling foolishly when his gaze crossed hers, only to stop and swing back and meet her gaze. Their eyes locked with what Allegra could have sworn was an audible click and for a moment it was as if a question trembled in the air between them.
Then Max rolled his eyes and came towards her and the moment was broken. He was just Max—staid, conventional Max. Libby’s brother. Nothing more.
‘I see you didn’t trust me to make my own way to the dance studio,’ he said as he came up.
Allegra felt as if she ought to kiss him on the cheek or something, but all at once she felt ridiculously shy. She wouldn’t have hesitated at work, but she was on Max’s ground now and it seemed too intimate to give him a casual hug.
So she kept her arms wrapped around herself and turned to walk beside him instead. ‘You’ve got to admit that you didn’t seem very keen when I reminded you about the dance lesson this morning,’ she said. ‘You’d rather stick pins in your eyes, you said.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘Only because I just happened to mention at the same time that I could still pull out of the dinner with your boss.’
‘Yes, who would have guessed you’d turn into such a proficient blackmailer?’
Allegra spread her hands. ‘We all have to use the talents we have,’ she said modestly. ‘I’m helping you with the dinner for Darcy too, don’t forget. I believe in the carrot and stick approach.’
‘I’m still waiting for some carrot,’ said Max.
Now she put the flat of her hand against Max’s back and pushed him into the studio. It was a large room with two mirrored walls and the faintly sweaty smell of packed exercise classes.
At least today they had the place to themselves. Allegra introduced Max to Cathy, the dance instructor she had hired at huge expense. A TV veteran, Cathy was famous for bringing unlikely celebrities up to scratch on the dancing front, but it was soon obvious that Max was going to be her biggest challenge.
‘It’s like trying to move a block of wood around the floor,’ she complained. ‘Allegra, you come and dance with him and see if he’s more relaxed with you.’
It was exactly what Allegra had been hoping for. She leapt up and took her place in the middle of the empty floor with Max, but the moment she put one hand on his shoulder and the other in his palm, awkwardness gripped her. She hadn’t anticipated how close Max would feel, how intimate it would seem to be standing together, holding each other.
‘Right, Max, remember what I told you: you’re stepping to the top of the box, and Allegra, you go back,’ said Cathy, prowling around them. ‘Off we go. One, two, three...top of the box, slide across, back...one, two, three...’
Allegra’s mouth was dry, but she took a deep breath and tried to remember the instructions. She kept her eyes fixed on a spot behind Max’s shoulder, which made it easier not to think about how warm and firm his fingers were, or the way his hand at her waist seemed to be sizzling through her top. Out of the corner of her eye, she could still see the edge of his jaw, rigid with concentration. It was very distracting and she kept forgetting where her feet were supposed to go.
‘Stop! I can’t stand it!’ Cathy shrieked eventually, and Max and Allegra sprang apart with a mixture of relief and embarrassment.
Cathy heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘I thought you told me you and Max were friends?’ she said to Allegra.
Allegra and Max looked at each other. ‘We are...sort of.’
‘Sort of?’
‘We’ve known each other a long time,’ Max said after a moment.
Cathy arched an eyebrow. ‘You surprise me. You were holding each other as if you’d never met before.’ She sighed and regarded them both severely. ‘Hug each other,’ she ordered.
‘What?’
‘Hug each other,’ Cathy repeated with exaggerated patience as Allegra and Max both did double takes.
‘You mean...?’ Allegra gestured vaguely, prompting another big sigh from Cathy.
‘I mean put your arms around each other and squeeze. You know how to hug, don’t you?’
‘What’s the object of the exercise?’ asked Max, who clearly didn’t want to get any closer than Allegra did.
‘I want you to relax and feel comfortable with each other. A hug will help you get over any awkwardness. Well, go on,’ she said when neither of them moved.
Clearing her throat, Allegra turned reluctantly to face Max. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed at him and Max rolled his eyes in reply.
They had a couple of false starts where they stepped towards each other only to bang their heads together, or find their arms so awkwardly positioned that they had to pull apart and start again, but they were laughing by that stage and on the third try they got it right.
Allegra ended up with her arms around Max’s waist, while he held her pressed against him. It felt as if they had slotted into place. Max was just the right height. Allegra fitted comfortably against him, her eyes level with his jaw, and if she turned her head, she could rest her face into his throat.
He had discarded his jacket but was still wearing a shirt and tie. The shirt was a very dull pale blue and the tie totally uninteresting, but Allegra had to admit that he smelt nice, of clean cotton and clean male. It was surprisingly reassuring being able to lean into his solid strength and feel that he wouldn’t shift or topple over.
It had been another frenetic day at Glitz and Allegra had spent most of it galloping up and down the corridors and being screamed at. They were putting the next issue to bed and tension was running higher than usual, which made it stratospheric. It was as if the whole office was suffering from PMT.
But now she was being forced to rest against Max for a minute or two. In spite of herself, Allegra let out a little sigh and relaxed. It was weird, but being held by him like this felt...safe.
‘Good,’ said Cathy. ‘Now squeeze each other tighter.’
Obediently, Allegra tightened her arms around Max’s back as he pulled her closer, and suddenly it didn’t feel safe at all.
Suddenly it felt dangerous, as if the floor had dropped away beneath her feet and left her teetering on the edge of a dizzying drop. The urge to turn into Max and cling to him was so strong that Allegra couldn’t breathe with it. Her chest was tight, her pulse booming with an alarmed awareness of him. He held her rigidly and his body was hard—and when Allegra shifted uneasily against him she realised that—oh?—it wasn’t just his chest that was hard.
Oh.
Before she had a chance to work out what she felt about that, Cathy was clapping her hands.
‘Right, let’s try again,’ she said briskly and Max practically shoved Allegra away from him. His body might have been enjoying being pressed up against her, but his mind obviously hadn’t. He scowled as Cathy ordered them back into position.
‘Remember what I told you about the box step?’ she said as Max and Allegra took hold of each other awkwardly, careful to keep a gap between them. ‘Step to the top of the box, slide your feet together, step back, slide together... Off you go!’
It was easier without the distraction of being pressed right against him, Allegra told herself. That flood of heat had just been a physical reaction, exactly as Max’s had been. It was what happened when you squashed a man and a woman together. It didn’t mean anything.
‘No, no!’ Cathy threw up her hands. ‘Max, you go forward, Allegra you’re stepping back! Now, try again, and this time try and concentrate on what you’re doing.’
Right, concentrate. Allegra stifled a nervous giggle as she fluffed it again, and Max muttered under his breath.
Cathy sighed.
They set off again, and managed two sides of the box before Max trod heavily on Allegra’s foot, making her yelp, at which point they both started laughing. It was partly embarrassment, partly relief that the awful awareness had dissipated.
Cathy was less amused. ‘You’re both hopeless,’ she said when their time was up. ‘If you want Max to impress Darcy at the ball, you’re going to have to practice. At least master the basic steps and we can try and add some turns next week.’
FIVE
‘Turns?’ Max grumbled as they slunk out. ‘You mean we have to go round and round as well as backwards and forwards?’
‘It’s a lot harder than it looks,’ Allegra agreed, winding her scarf around her throat. ‘I’ve waltzed so often in my fantasies that I thought I’d be quite good at it. I can’t believe I was so crap,’ she said despondently.
‘In your fantasy you don’t dance with me, that’s why,’ said Max, feeling obscurely guilty about spoiling the waltz for her.
‘True.’ She perked up a little as they headed down the street. ‘I’d be much better with my Regency duke.’
‘Your what?’
‘The duke who waltzes me out on the terrace, begs me to become his duchess and ravishes me,’ said Allegra as if it was the most normal thing in the world. ‘I told you about my fantasy.’
‘You didn’t mention any dukes.’
‘I think he probably is a duke,’ she said, having considered the matter. ‘He’s got a dreadful reputation as a rake, of course, but underneath he’s deeply honourable.’
‘He’s not very honourable if he ravishes you right outside a crowded ballroom,’ Max pointed out.
‘You’re such a nitpicker,’ she said without heat.
Max shook his head. ‘I can’t figure you out, Legs. One minute you’re obsessed with fashion or celebrity gossip, the next you’re fantasising about dancing with dead aristocrats.’
And that was before you took into account the sweet and funny Allegra who drew cute cartoon animals, or the one who tried so hard and so unsuccessfully to be cool and high-minded so that she could please her demanding mother. The one who fretted constantly about her weight or the one who sat on the floor and ate pizza with relish.
It was only since moving into the house that Max had come to realise that there was more to Allegra than he had thought. If he’d been asked to describe her before then he would have said sweet, a bit scatty, a bit screwed up by her mother.
And now...now he was learning new things about her every day. Like the way she left the bathroom a tip, the way her face lit up when she smiled. Like the smell of her perfume. The way she tilted her chin.
The way she felt. Max’s mouth dried at the memory of that ridiculous hug Cathy had insisted on. After a couple of false starts, Allegra had fitted into him as if she belonged there, and his senses had reeled alarmingly at the feel of her slenderness pressed against him.
And it wasn’t just his senses that had reacted. Max shifted his shoulders uncomfortably in his jacket, remembering how aroused he had been. Hold her tighter, that fool Cathy had said. What was he supposed to do when a soft, warm woman was melting into him and her perfume filled his head and it was all he could do to stop his hands sliding under that silky top, rucking up that sexy skirt so that he could run them hungrily over her long thighs?
This was all Emma’s fault. If they’d still been together, he wouldn’t have been sex-starved, and he certainly wouldn’t have been thinking about Allegra like some kind of pervert.
She was lucky that treading on her toes was all he had done.
At least it had been easier once they’d started laughing. It was a relief to know that Allegra couldn’t dance for toffee either. When he wasn’t wanting to rip her clothes off, he and Allegra got on much better than he had expected.
She’d been teaching him how to cook so that he could impress Darcy, and kept coming back from Glitz laden with ingredients and advice from the food editor. Max wasn’t learning much, but he enjoyed leaning against the worktop and watching her face as she chopped enthusiastically, throwing weird ingredients together in ridiculously complicated meals. Emma was a great cook, Max remembered loyally. Meat and two veg, exactly what you wanted to eat, perfectly cooked. None of Allegra’s nonsense.
Although there was something oddly endearing about the nonsense all the same. Even if it did taste rubbish.
‘You say you want to be a serious journalist, but I’ve only ever seen you talk seriously about cosmetics or the latest soap,’ he said, still puzzling over her.
A brisk wind was swirling dead leaves along the gutter and Allegra pulled her coat closer around her. ‘People are more than one thing,’ she said loftily. ‘Talking of which, what did you do to Dickie?’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Max in surprise.
‘He was so fragile this morning that the entire office had to whisper! Stella’s assistant told the intern who told me that when Stella asked him what was wrong, he said it was all your fault!’
‘I just took him to the pub.’
Allegra had sent him off for another styling session with Dickie the night before. Max had grumbled, but he’d gone along and without Allegra there had been able to come to an understanding with Dickie. Make the whole process as quick and painless as possible, he had suggested, and they could go and have a decent drink.
‘Can you believe it?’ he went on. ‘The guy’s been in London for ten years and he’s never had a decent pint.’