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His head felt light and he realised it was because he’d stopped breathing. Max sucked in a steadying breath. Where had all that come from?

‘I didn’t know you thought I was beautiful,’ said Allegra, sounding thrown.

‘I thought so many other people would tell you there was no need for me to do the same. You’re still deeply irritating, mind,’ he said in an effort to drag the conversation back onto safe ground, ‘but of course you’re beautiful. I thought you knew.’

‘No.’ Allegra bent her head, pushing back the hair that slithered forward, but he still couldn’t see her face properly.

It was probably just as well. Max was uneasily aware that something tenuous had insinuated itself into the air, like a memory hovering just out of reach, or a forgotten word trembling on the tip of a tongue. Something that seemed to be drawing the air tighter, squeezing out the oxygen so that his chest felt tight and his breathing oddly sticky.

Could Allegra feel it?

Apparently not. Even as he struggled to heave in another breath, she was lifting her head and focusing on him with those eyes that seemed to get more beautiful every time he looked into them.

‘Tell me how you got on with Darcy,’ she said, sounding so completely normal that Max squirmed inwardly with humiliation. She wasn’t finding it hard to breathe. She wasn’t aware of the tension in the air, or snarled in a knot of inconvenient and inappropriate lust.

‘I wondered if you’d end up staying the night,’ she went on, but not as if she cared one way or the other.

So he obviously couldn’t admit that she was the reason he wasn’t tucked up next to the world’s favourite lingerie model right now.

Because Darcy had made it very clear that she was up for a lot more than just dinner, but it hadn’t felt right, not when he’d spent most of the evening wondering what Allegra was doing and who her bloody mother had lined up to sit next to her. Flick might be keen on big brains, but Max was prepared to bet that they were men too, and that they wouldn’t be above a flirtatious touch every now and then: Allegra’s shoulder, her hand, her knee...

It was only when Darcy had looked at him strangely that he’d realised he was grinding his teeth.

What was wrong with him? Max had wanted to tear out his hair. There he was, sitting across the table from Darcy King, with a clear invitation to get his hands on that luscious body. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a fantasy come true for a million men like him, and all he could think about was his sister’s scrawny friend! He had to be sickening for something. Or certifiable.

Or both.

He liked Darcy, he really did, but it had been awkward. He told Allegra what he’d told Darcy, which was the best excuse he could come up with at the time.

‘I don’t really want to get involved with Darcy,’ he said. ‘She’s nice but...well, I don’t see her fitting into my life, do you? I can’t imagine someone like Darcy out in Shofrar, and I don’t feel like being just a novelty plaything for her. I know most other men would give their eye teeth to be toyed with by her, but I’m not sure it would be worth it.’

It wasn’t really an excuse. It was true. Not that Allegra seemed to be convinced.

She looked at him strangely. ‘I doubt that Darcy’s thinking about anything serious,’ she said. ‘It would only be a bit of fun. Where does Shofrar come into it?’

‘That’s where my life is going to be,’ said Max stiffly, even as he winced inwardly at what a pompous jerk he sounded. But the words kept coming out of his mouth without taking the trouble of detouring through his brain. ‘There’s no point in getting involved with someone who can’t hack it away from a city.’

Meaning what exactly? He wasn’t surprised at the way Allegra’s face clouded with disbelief.

‘So, let me get this right. You’re saying that you’re not going to have sex unless you can get married to someone who won’t mind being dragged out to some desert hellhole so that she can play second fiddle to your career?’

‘Yes...no!’ What was he saying?

‘Isn’t that going to be a bit limiting?’

Max was beginning to sweat. He hadn’t felt this out of control since Emma had blithely broken off their engagement.

Emma! He grabbed onto the thought of his fiancée. Ex-fiancée. ‘Look, I’m not the sort of guy who goes out with models,’ he said with a tinge of desperation. ‘In a fantasy, maybe, but I really just want to be with someone like Emma. I think being with Darcy made me realise that I wasn’t really over Emma yet.’

Which might even be true. Not the realisation, which in reality hadn’t crossed his mind at the time, but that he was still missing Emma at some level.

Now that he thought about it, Max thought it probably was true. It would explain the muddle inside him, wouldn’t it? Max hated feeling like this, as if he were churning around in some massive washing machine, not knowing which way was up. Not knowing what he thought or what he felt. He hadn’t felt himself since Emma had wafted off in search of passion.

‘I sent Emma a text, just like you suggested,’ he told Allegra almost accusingly, and she sat up straighter.

‘Did she reply?’

‘While I was on my way to Darcy’s. So I was thinking about her before I got there.’

That was true, although he hadn’t really been thinking about Emma in a yearning way, more in a how-odd-I-don’t-really-feel-anything-when-I-see-your-name-now kind of way. Until a week or so ago, Max would have said that all he wanted was to hear from Emma and try to get back to normal again, but when he’d read her text he hadn’t felt the rush of relief and hope that he’d expected.

At least Allegra was looking sympathetic now. ‘I can see that would throw you a bit,’ she said fairly. ‘What did Emma say?’

‘Nothing really. Just that she was fine and how was I?’

‘Oh, that’s very encouraging!’ Allegra beamed at him and he looked back suspiciously.

‘It is?’

‘Definitely. If Emma didn’t want to stay in contact, she wouldn’t have replied at all. As it is, she not only responded, she asked you a question back.’

‘So?’

‘So she’s opening a dialogue,’ Allegra said with heavy patience. ‘She’s asked how you are, which means you reply and tell her, and say something else, then she gets the chance to react to that... Before you know where you are, you’re having a conversation, and then it’s only a matter of time before you decide you should meet.’

She sat back, satisfied with her scenario. ‘It’s a really good sign, Max,’ she assured him. ‘I bet Emma’s bored with her passionate guy already and was thrilled to hear from you.’

Max couldn’t see it. Thrilled. There was an Allegra word for you. Emma wasn’t the kind of woman who was thrilled about things. It was one of the things he had always liked about her. Emma didn’t make a big fuss about anything. She was moderation, balance, calm—unlike some people he could mention.

He looked at Allegra, who was curled up in the armchair, bright-eyed and a little tousled at the end of the evening, apparently unaware that her dress was rucked up, exposing a mouth-watering length of leg. When he thought about Allegra, he didn’t think moderation. He thought extravagance. Allegra dealt in extremes. She adored things or she loathed them. She was wildly excited at the prospect of something or dreading it. She was madly in love or broken-hearted. It was exhausting trying to keep up with the way her emotions swung around. Emma had never left his head reeling.

Of course, Emma was the one who had thrown up her nice, safe life for a passionate affair, so what did he know?

Max hunched his shoulders morosely. Women. Just when you thought you understood them, they turned around and kicked your legs out from beneath you, leaving you floundering.