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
