* *
‘Allegra!’ Max banged his fist on the bathroom door. ‘What in God’s name are you doing in there?’
‘Nearly ready,’ Allegra called back. Carefully, she smoothed her lipstick into place and blotted her mouth. She wouldn’t for the world admit it to Max, but she was nervous about the evening ahead. This dinner with Bob Laskovski and his wife was so important to him. She didn’t want to let him down.
Max had been in a funny mood for the last few days. Allegra had decided that hearing from Emma had thrown him more than he understood. He was in denial, but it was obvious that he really wanted Emma back. Why else would he resist Darcy?
It had been easier to go out and leave him to be morose on his own, and when William got in touch after dinner at Flick’s she had agreed to meet him for a drink after all. The whole relationship detox thing would never have worked anyway, Allegra decided. She should at least give him a chance.
William was good company, good-looking, and she enjoyed herself, and she wouldn’t let herself think that looking at William’s patrician mouth didn’t make her stomach hurt the way it did when she looked at Max’s.
Because there was no point in thinking about Max that way.
Allegra couldn’t even explain what kind of way that was, but it was something to do with a trembly sensation just below her skin, with a thudding in her veins that started whenever Max came into the room. It was something to do with the way every sense seemed on full alert when he was near.
Being so aware of him the whole time made her uncomfortable. It was crazy. It was inappropriate. It didn’t make sense.
It was just the assignment, she tried to reassure herself. It was just spending so much time with him. It wasn’t real. A temporary madness, that was all. Max would go to Shofrar and she would go back to normal.
She couldn’t wait.
Max had been very clear. He wasn’t interested in a quick fling. He was looking for someone who could be part of his life, someone who would share his interests and not mind being dragged around the world. It wasn’t Darcy, and it sure as hell wasn’t her either, Allegra knew. She was the last kind of girl Max would ever want to get involved with...and the feeling was mutual, she hurried to remind herself whenever that thought seemed too depressing. It wasn’t as if she wanted to leave London. She had a career here.
She might not be changing the world or writing ground-breaking articles, but she was doing what she wanted to do...wasn’t she? Allegra’s mind flickered to illustration then away. Drawing cartoon animals wasn’t a serious job. She could do better for herself, as Flick was constantly telling her.
Besides, the article about Max was going to be her big break. She had already written the first half and it was pretty good, even if she did say so herself. Perhaps she was spending rather too much time sketching Max while she thought, but it was inevitable that she should be thinking about him. Right now, that was her job, that was all.
‘Allegra! We’re going to be late!’ Max had just raised his fist to rap the bathroom door again when Allegra pulled it open. She smiled brightly at him, gratified by the way his jaw slackened.
‘What do you think?’ She pirouetted in the doorway. She was in the most demure outfit she could find, a killer LBD with a sheer décolletage and sleeves. Even Max couldn’t object to a black dress, Allegra had reasoned, but she’d been unable to resist pimping up the plainness with glittery earrings and bling-studded stilettos. There was only so much plain dressing a girl could do, and she was counting on the fact that Max and his boss were men and therefore unlikely to even look at her shoes.
‘Do I look sufficiently sensible?’ she asked, and Max, who had evidently forgotten that his fist was still raised, lowered it slowly.
‘Sensible isn’t quite the word I was thinking of,’ he said, sounding strained.
Allegra was disappointed. ‘I’ve put my hair up and everything,’ she protested. Her hair was so slippery it had taken ages to do, too.
‘You look very nice,’ Max said gruffly. ‘Now, come on. The taxi’s waiting. We need to get a move on.’ His gaze travelled down her legs and ended at her shoes. ‘Can you make it to the taxi?’
‘Of course I can,’ said Allegra, unsure whether to be pleased or miffed that he had noticed her shoes after all.
Her hair was precariously fixed, to say the least, so Allegra settled back into the seat and pulled her seat belt on with care. She loved London taxis, loved their bulbous shape and the yellow light on top. She loved the smell of the seats, the clicking of the engine, the straps that stopped you sliding around on your seat when they turned a corner. Sitting in a taxi as it drove past the iconic London sights made Allegra feel as if she was at the centre of things, part of a great vibrant city. It gave her a thrill every time.
Every time except that night.
That night, the streets were a blur. Allegra couldn’t concentrate on London. She was too aware of Max sitting beside her. He was sensibly strapped in too, and he wasn’t touching her. He wasn’t even close, but that didn’t stop her whole side tingling as if the seat belt had vanished and she had slid across the seat to land against him.
She swallowed hard. This was so silly. She shouldn’t have to make an effort to sound normal with Max.
‘So,’ she said brightly, ‘what’s the plan?’
‘Plan?’
‘We ought to get our stories straight about how we met at least.’
Max frowned. ‘Bob’s not going to be interested in that kind of thing.’
‘His wife might be.’
It was obvious Max hadn’t thought of that. ‘Better stick to the truth,’ he decided, and Allegra’s brows rose.
‘Won’t that rather defeat the object of the exercise?’
‘I don’t mean about the pretence,’ he said irritably. ‘Just that I know you through my sister, that kind of thing.’
It all sounded a bit thin to Allegra, but Max clearly didn’t think his boss was going to interrogate them in any detail. She just hoped that he was right.
‘I don’t think you’ll have to do much but smile and look as if we might conceivably be planning to get married,’ Max said.
‘How besotted do you want me to be?’ she asked provocatively. It was easier needling him than noticing how the street lights threw the planes of his face into relief, how the passing headlights kept catching the corner of his mouth. ‘I could be madly in love or just sweetly adoring.’
‘Just be normal,’ he said repressively. ‘If you can.’
They were to meet Bob and his wife at Arturo’s, a quiet and classic restaurant no longer at the forefront of fashion but still famous for its food. When they got there, Max paid off the taxi and ran a finger under his collar. He’d wanted to wear a plain white shirt but Allegra had bullied him into putting on the mulberry-coloured shirt Dickie had picked out for him, with a plain tie in a darker hue.
‘Bob’s going to wonder what
