and me? Right now?’
‘Yes. You don’t have other plans, do you?’
‘Um, no.’
He nodded. ‘Great.’
Gesturing up and down her body, she frowned, looking a little flustered. ‘But I can’t go dressed like this.’
He glanced at her jeans and T-shirt, trying not to let his eyes linger on the way they fitted her trim, slender body. ‘You’re going to have to change quickly then,’ he said, pulling his mobile out of his pocket and dialling the number for the taxi.
* * *
Cara chattered away in the cab all the way there about how the play had been given rave reviews after its preview performance and how people were already paying crazy money on auction websites for re-sold tickets to see it. Her enthusiasm was contagious and, stepping out of the car, he was surprised to find he was actually looking forward to seeing it.
The theatre was a recently renovated grand art deco building slap-bang in the middle of Soho, a short stroll from the hectic retail circus of Oxford Street.
It had been a while since he’d made it into town on a Friday night and even longer since he’d been to see any kind of live show. When he and Jemima had moved to London they’d been full of enthusiasm about how they’d be living in the heart of the action and would be able to go out every other night to see the most cutting-edge performances and mind-expanding lectures. They were going to become paragons of good taste and spectacularly cultured to boot.
And then real life had taken over and they’d become increasingly buried under the weight of work stress and life tiredness as the years went by and had barely made it out to anything at all. It had been fine when they’d had each other for company, but he was aware that he needed to make more of an effort to get out and be sociable now he was on his own.
Not that he’d been a total recluse since Jem had died; he’d been out with friends—Poppy being his most regular pub partner—but he’d done it in a cocoon of grief, always feeling slightly detached from what was going on around him.
Doing this with Cara meant he was having to make an effort again. Which was a good thing. It felt healthy. Perhaps that was why he was feeling more upbeat than he had in a while—as if there was life beyond the narrow world he’d been living in for the past year and a half.
After paying the taxi driver, they jogged straight to the box office for their tickets, then through the empty lobby to the auditorium to find their seats in the VIP box, the usher giving them a pointed look as she closed the doors firmly behind them. It seemed they’d only just made it. This theory was borne out by the dimming of the lights and the grand swish of the curtain opening just as they folded themselves into their seats.
Max turned to find Cara with her mouth comically open and an expression that clearly said I can’t believe we’ve just casually nipped into the best seats in the house. He flashed her a quick smile, enjoying her pleasure and the sense of satisfaction at doing something good here, before settling back into his plush red velvet chair, his heart beating heavily in his chest.
A waft of her perfume hit his nose as she reached up to adjust her ponytail, which made his heart beat even harder—perhaps from the sudden sensory overload. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on bringing his breathing back to normal and focused on the action on stage, determined to put all other thoughts aside for the meantime and try to enjoy whatever this turned out to be.
* * *
Cara was immensely relieved when the play stood up to her enthusiastic anticipation. It would have been pretty embarrassing if it had been a real flop after all the fuss she’d made about it on the way there. Every time she heard Max chuckle at one of the jokes she experienced a warm flutter of pleasure in her stomach.
Max bringing her here to the theatre had thrown her for a complete loop. Even though he’d finally let her into his head last weekend, she’d expected him to go back to being distant with her again once he came back from Manchester. But instead he’d surprised her by complimenting her, then not only getting tickets to the hottest play in London, but bringing her here himself as a reward for working hard.
Dumbfounded was not the word.
Not that she was complaining.
Sneaking a glance at him, she thought she’d never seen him looking so relaxed. She could hardly believe he was the same man who had opened the door to her on the first day they’d met. He seemed larger now somehow, as if he’d straightened up and filled out in the time since she’d last seen him. That had to be all in her head, of course, but he certainly seemed more real now that she knew what drove his rage. In fact it was incredible how differently she felt now she knew what sort of horror he’d been through—losing someone he loved in such a senseless way.
No wonder he was so angry at the world.
Selfishly, it was a massive relief to know that none of his dark moods had been about her performance—apart from when she’d fallen asleep on the kitchen table during business hours, of course.
After he’d left for Manchester, she’d had a minor panic attack about how she was going to cope on her own, terrified of making a mistake that would impact negatively on the business, but, after giving herself a good talking-to in the mirror, she’d pulled it together and got on with the job in hand. And she’d been fine. More than fine. In fact she’d actually started to enjoy her job again as she relaxed into the role and reasserted her working practices.
Truth be told, before she’d started working for Max, she didn’t know whether she’d be able to hold her nerve in a business environment any more. He’d been a hard taskmaster but she knew she’d benefited from that, discovering that she had the strength to stand up for herself when it counted. She’d been tested to her limits and she’d come through the other side and that, to her, had been her biggest achievement in a very long time.
She felt proud of herself again.
As the first half drew to a close she became increasingly conscious of the heat radiating from Max’s powerful body and his arm that pressed up against hers as he leaned into the armrest. Her skin felt hot and prickly where it touched his, as if he was giving off an electric charge, and it was sending little currents of energy through the most disconcerting places in her body.
It seemed her crush on him had grown right along with her respect and she was agonisingly aware of how easy it would be to fall for him if she let herself.
Which she wasn’t going to do. He was clearly still in love with his wife and there was no way she could compete with a ghost.
Only pain and heartache lay that way.
As soon as the curtain swished closed and the lights came on to signal the intermission she sprang up from her seat, eager to break their physical connection as soon as possible.
‘Let’s grab a drink,’ Max said, leaning in close so she could hear him over the noise of audience chatter, his breath tickling the hairs around her ear.
‘Good idea.’ She was eager to move now to release the pent-up energy that was making her heart race.
Max gestured for her to go first, staying close behind her as they walked down the stairs towards the bar, his dominating presence like a looming shadow at
