British Bachelors: Perfect and Available: Mr

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.’

‘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.