Mr. (Not Quite) Perfect

by Jessica Hart

  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 work, but she was on Max’s ground now and it seemed too intimate to give him a casual hug.

  So she kept her arms wrapped around herself and turned to walk beside him instead. ‘You’ve got to admit that you didn’t seem very keen when I reminded you about the dance lesson this morning,’ she said. ‘You’d rather stick pins in your eyes, you said.’

  ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘Only because I just happened to mention at the same time that I could still pull out of the dinner with your boss.’

  ‘Yes, who would have guessed you’d turn into such a proficient blackmailer?’

  Allegra spread her hands. ‘We all have to use the talents we have,’ she said modestly. ‘I’m helping you with the dinner for Darcy too, don’t forget. I believe in the carrot and stick approach.’

  ‘I’m still waiting for some carrot,’ said Max.

  Now she put the flat of her hand against Max’s back and pushed him into the studio. It was a large room with two mirrored walls and the faintly sweaty smell of packed exercise classes.

  At least today they had the place to themselves. Allegra introduced Max to Cathy, the dance instructor she had hired at huge expense. A TV veteran, Cathy was famous for bringing unlikely celebrities up to scratch on the dancing front, but it was soon obvious that Max was going to be her biggest challenge.

  ‘It’s like trying to move a block of wood around the floor,’ she complained. ‘Allegra, you come and dance with him and see if he’s more relaxed with you.’

  It was exactly what Allegra had been hoping for. She leapt up and took her place in the middle of the empty floor with Max, but the moment she put one hand on his shoulder and the other in his palm, awkwardness gripped her. She hadn’t anticipated how close Max would feel, how intimate it would seem to be standing together, holding each other.

  ‘Right, Max, remember what I told you: you’re stepping to the top of the box, and Allegra, you go back,’ said Cathy, prowling around them. ‘Off we go. One, two, three...top of the box, slide across, back...one, two, three...’

  Allegra’s mouth was dry, but she took a deep breath and tried to remember the instructions. She kept her eyes fixed on a spot behind Max’s shoulder, which made it easier not to think about how warm and firm his fingers were, or the way his hand at her waist seemed to be sizzling through her top. Out of the corner of her eye, she could still see the edge of his jaw, rigid with concentration. It was very distracting and she kept forgetting where her feet were supposed to go.

  ‘Stop! I can’t stand it!’ Cathy shrieked eventually, and Max and Allegra sprang apart with a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

  Cathy heaved a dramatic sigh. ‘I thought you told me you and Max were friends?’ she said to Allegra.

  Allegra and Max looked at each other. ‘We are...sort of.’

  ‘Sort of?’

  ‘We’ve known each other a long time,’ Max said after a moment.

  Cathy arched an eyebrow. ‘You surprise me. You were holding each other as if you’d never met before.’ She sighed and regarded them both severely. ‘Hug each other,’ she ordered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hug each other,’ Cathy repeated with exaggerated patience as Allegra and Max both did double takes.

  ‘You mean...?’ Allegra gestured vaguely, prompting another big sigh from Cathy.

  ‘I mean put your arms around each other and squeeze. You know how to hug, don’t you?’

  ‘What’s the object of the exercise?’ asked Max, who clearly didn’t want to get any closer than Allegra did.

  ‘I want you to relax and feel comfortable with each other. A hug will help you get over any awkwardness. Well, go on,’ she said when neither of them moved.

  Clearing her throat, Allegra turned reluctantly to face Max. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed at him and Max rolled his eyes in reply.

  They had a couple of false starts where they stepped towards each other only to bang their heads together, or find their arms so awkwardly positioned that they had to pull apart and start again, but they were laughing by that stage and on the third try they got it right.

  Allegra ended up with her arms around Max’s waist, while he held her pressed against him. It felt as if they had slotted into place. Max was just the right height. Allegra fitted comfortably against him, her eyes level with his jaw, and if she turned her head, she could rest her face into his throat.

  He had discarded his jacket but was still wearing a shirt and tie. The shirt was a very dull pale blue and the tie totally uninteresting, but Allegra had to admit that he smelt nice, of clean cotton and clean male. It was surprisingly reassuring being able to lean into his solid strength and feel that he wouldn’t shift or topple over.

  It had been another frenetic day at Glitz and Allegra had spent most of it galloping up and down the corridors and being screamed at. They were putting the next issue to bed and tension was running higher than usual, which made it stratospheric. It was as if the whole office was suffering from PMT.

  But now she was being forced to rest against Max for a minute or two. In spite of herself, Allegra let out a little sigh and relaxed. It was weird, but being held by him like th
is felt...safe.

  ‘Good,’ said Cathy. ‘Now squeeze each other tighter.’

  Obediently, Allegra tightened her arms around Max’s back as he pulled her closer, and suddenly it didn’t feel safe at all.

  Suddenly it felt dangerous, as if the floor had dropped away beneath her feet and left her teetering on the edge of a dizzying drop. The urge to turn into Max and cling to him was so strong that Allegra couldn’t breathe with it. Her chest was tight, her pulse booming with an alarmed awareness of him. He held her rigidly and his body was hard—and when Allegra shifted uneasily against him she realised that—oh?—it wasn’t just his chest that was hard.

  Oh.

  Before she had a chance to work out what she felt about that, Cathy was clapping her hands.

  ‘Right, let’s try again,’ she said briskly and Max practically shoved Allegra away from him. His body might have been enjoying being pressed up against her, but his mind obviously hadn’t. He scowled as Cathy ordered them back into position.

  ‘Remember what I told you about the box step?’ she said as Max and Allegra took hold of each other awkwardly, careful to keep a gap between them. ‘Step to the top of the box, slide your feet together, step back, slide together... Off you go!’

  It was easier without the distraction of being pressed right against him, Allegra told herself. That flood of heat had just been a physical reaction, exactly as Max’s had been. It was what happened when you squashed a man and a woman together. It didn’t mean anything.

  ‘No, no!’ Cathy threw up her hands. ‘Max, you go forward, Allegra you’re stepping back! Now, try again, and this time try and concentrate on what you’re doing.’

  Right, concentrate. Allegra stifled a nervous giggle as she fluffed it again, and Max muttered under his breath.

  Cathy sighed.

  They set off again, and managed two sides of the box before Max trod heavily on Allegra’s foot, making her yelp, at which point they both started laughing. It was partly embarrassment, partly relief that the awful awareness had dissipated.

  Cathy was less amused. ‘You’re both hopeless,’ she said when their time was up. ‘If you want Max to impress Darcy at the ball, you’re going to have to practice. At least master the basic steps and we can try and add some turns next week.’

  FIVE

  ‘Turns?’ Max grumbled as they slunk out. ‘You mean we have to go round and round as well as backwards and forwards?’

  ‘It’s a lot harder than it looks,’ Allegra agreed, winding her scarf around her throat. ‘I’ve waltzed so often in my fantasies that I thought I’d be quite good at it. I can’t believe I was so crap,’ she said despondently.

  ‘In your fantasy you don’t dance with me, that’s why,’ said Max, feeling obscurely guilty about spoiling the waltz for her.

  ‘True.’ She perked up a little as they headed down the street. ‘I’d be much better with my Regency duke.’

  ‘Your what?’

  ‘The duke who waltzes me out on the terrace, begs me to become his duchess and ravishes me,’ said Allegra as if it was the most normal thing in the world. ‘I told you about my fantasy.’

  ‘You didn’t mention any dukes.’

  ‘I think he probably is a duke,’ she said, having considered the matter. ‘He’s got a dreadful reputation as a rake, of course, but underneath he’s deeply honourable.’

  ‘He’s not very honourable if he ravishes you right outside a crowded ballroom,’ Max pointed out.

  ‘You’re such a nitpicker,’ she said without heat.

  Max shook his head. ‘I can’t figure you out, Legs. One minute you’re obsessed with fashion or celebrity gossip, the next you’re fantasising about dancing with dead aristocrats.’

  And that was before you took into account the sweet and funny Allegra who drew cute cartoon animals, or the one who tried so hard and so unsuccessfully to be cool and high-minded so that she could please her demanding mother. The one who fretted constantly about her weight or the one who sat on the floor and ate pizza with relish.

  It was only since moving into the house that Max had come to realise that there was more to Allegra than he had thought. If he’d been asked to describe her before then he would have said sweet, a bit scatty, a bit screwed up by her mother.

  And now...now he was learning new things about her every day. Like the way she left the bathroom a tip, the way her face lit up when she smiled. Like the smell of her perfume. The way she tilted her chin.

  The way she felt. Max’s mouth dried at the memory of that ridiculous hug Cathy had insisted on. After a couple of false starts, Allegra had fitted into him as if she belonged there, and his senses had reeled alarmingly at the feel of her slenderness pressed against him.

  And it wasn’t just his senses that had reacted. Max shifted his shoulders uncomfortably in his jacket, remembering how aroused he had been. Hold her tighter, that fool Cathy had said. What was he supposed to do when a soft, warm woman was melting into him and her perfume filled his head and it was all he could do to stop his hands sliding under that silky top, rucking up that sexy skirt so that he could run them hungrily over her long thighs?

  This was all Emma’s fault. If they’d still been together, he wouldn’t have been sex-starved, and he certainly wouldn’t have been thinking about Allegra like some kind of pervert.

  She was lucky that treading on her toes was all he had done.

  At least it had been easier once they’d started laughing. It was a relief to know that Allegra couldn’t dance for toffee either. When he wasn’t wanting to rip her clothes off, he and Allegra got on much better than he had expected.

  She’d been teaching him how to cook so that he could impress Darcy, and kept coming back from Glitz laden with ingredients and advice from the food editor. Max wasn’t learning much, but he enjoyed leaning against the worktop and watching her face as she chopped enthusiastically, throwing weird ingredients together in ridiculously complicated meals. Emma was a great cook, Max remembered loyally. Meat and two veg, exactly what you wanted to eat, perfectly cooked. None of Allegra’s nonsense.

  Although there was something oddly endearing about the nonsense all the same. Even if it did taste rubbish.

  ‘You say you want to be a serious journalist, but I’ve only ever seen you talk seriously about cosmetics or the latest soap,’ he said, still puzzling over her.

  A brisk wind was swirling dead leaves along the gutter and Allegra pulled her coat closer around her. ‘People are more than one thing,’ she said loftily. ‘Talking of which, what did you do to Dickie?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Max in surprise.

  ‘He was so fragile this morning that the entire office had to whisper! Stella’s assistant told the intern who told me that when Stella asked him what was wrong, he said it was all your fault!’

  ‘I just took him to the pub.’

  Allegra had sent him off for another styling session with Dickie the night before. Max had grumbled, but he’d gone along and without Allegra there had been able to come to an understanding with Dickie. Make the whole process as quick and painless as possible, he had suggested, and they could go and have a decent drink.

  ‘Can you believe it?’ he went on. ‘The guy’s been in London for ten years and he’s never had a decent pint.’

  ‘You took Dickie to a pub?’ Allegra had stopped dead and was looking at him in horror.

  ‘You told me to be nice to him,’ Max reminded her.

  ‘Making him go to a pub and getting him drunk on beer isn’t being nice!’

  ‘He had a great time. I’m taking him to a rugby game next.’

  Allegra opened and closed her mouth, unable to get out a coherent sentence. ‘Dickie...rugby...?’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re all so terrified of him. He’s a perfectly ni
ce guy once you get past all the affectation.’

  ‘That’s it. My career is over.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Max, taking her arm and steering her across the road at the lights. ‘Dickie likes me. Although if I’d thought about it, ending your career might have been a good move. I’d never have to waltz again.’

  * * *

  ‘Darcy’s going to be here any minute. Are you almost ready?’

  Allegra put her head around the door to the kitchen, where Max was putting the final garnish to the romantic vegetarian meal for two that they had planned together.

  At least, she had planned it and Max had reluctantly agreed to cook it. ‘I don’t see why I can’t just give her pasta with a tomato sauce,’ he’d grumbled.

  ‘Because this is a special occasion. You want Darcy to know that you’ve made a real effort to cook something that she’ll really like.’

  Eventually they had settled on a pear, walnut and gorgonzola salad to start, followed by mushroom strudels with a tarragon cream sauce, and then margarita ice cream with chocolate-dipped strawberries. Allegra had been pleased with it, but after several practice runs, she had strudel coming out of her ears and she couldn’t face another chocolate-dipped strawberry, which wasn’t something she ever thought she would say.

  ‘I’m all set,’ said Max. ‘I just need to change.’

  ‘I’ll make the living room look nice,’ Allegra volunteered. Max was supposed to be thinking about that as well, but when she had suggested it he had just looked blank.

  At least everything was tidy, the way it always was when Max was around. Allegra set out candles and plumped up the cushions before putting on the playlist of romantic music she had compiled specially. Max didn’t have a clue about music or romance, so she’d known better than to suggest that he did it.

  She was lighting candles when he came back. ‘It’s a bit gloomy in here, isn’t it?’ he said, looking around. ‘Darcy won’t be able to see what she’s eating.’