British Bachelors: Perfect and Available: Mr. Jessica Hart
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.’