Unfortunately her voice came out wheezy, as if she had missed out on her share of oxygen.
Allegra cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Darcy’s lovely, isn’t she?’
Yes, she was. Max had to agree. Darcy was a fantasy come to life, in fact. She was gorgeous and sexy and friendly and sweet-natured. So why hadn’t he been able to relax and enjoy himself?
Max scowled at the back of the taxi driver’s head as he fastened his own seat belt. Beside him, Allegra was still burbling on about what a great evening it had been, and how nice Darcy was. She obviously hadn’t spent the entire evening being distracted.
Darcy was very touchy-feely, that was for sure. Max had been aware of her fingers trailing up and down his arm and over his thigh, but how could he enjoy it when Allegra was sitting opposite, scribbling notes in her book as if he were some kind of experiment she was observing?
It was mad. He, Max Warriner, had Darcy King right beside him, Darcy King flirting with him, and he couldn’t concentrate. He was too aware of Allegra, eyeing him critically, her mouth pursed consideringly while she watched Darcy paw him. It obviously didn’t bother her in the least.
It wasn’t even as if there was any comparison between the two women. Darcy was lush, flirty, sex personified, while Allegra was slender, too thin really. So why did he keep remembering how it had felt when she hugged him? She’d been so soft and so warm, and her fragrance had enveloped him, and every bit of blood had drained from his head.
‘And you were brilliant too,’ said Allegra indistinctly. Her head kept lolling forward and Max had a sudden and very weird compulsion to unclip her seat belt again and ease her down so that she could lie with her head in his lap and sleep all the way home.
The taxi turned a corner and Allegra leant right over towards him before the car straightened and he caught the tantalising scent of her hair before she was thrown upright again. ‘I feel a bit strange,’ she said in a small voice.
‘You’ll be fine when you’ve had something to eat,’ said Max bracingly, and she made a face.
‘Ugh...I couldn’t face eating anything.’
‘Of course you could. We’ll pick up a pizza on the way home.’
‘Pizza? Are you mad?’ Allegra demanded, roused out of her dopey state. ‘Do you know how many calories there are in every slice?’
‘You’ve just been guzzling cocktails,’ he pointed out. ‘A bit of pizza isn’t going to make much difference after that. Besides, you’re skinny enough. You could do with putting on a bit of weight, if you ask me.’
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
