Mr (Not Quite) Perfect
Allegra seemed to love it. She raced into the flat, all long legs and cheekbones and swingy, shiny hair, discarding scarves and shoes and earrings as she went, and whirled out again in an outfit that looked exactly the same, to Max’s untutored eye.
She was always complaining, though, that no one at the magazine noticed her. Max thought that was extremely unlikely. Allegra might not be classically beautiful but she had a vivid face with dark hair, striking green eyes and a mobile expression. She wasn’t the kind of girl people didn’t notice.
He’d known her since Libby had first brought her home for the holidays. Max, callous like most boys his age, had dismissed her at first as neurotic, clumsy and overweight. For a long time she’d just been Libby’s gawky friend, but she’d shed the weight one summer and, while it was too much to say that she’d emerged a butterfly from her chrysalis, she had certainly gained confidence. Now she was really quite attractive, Max thought, his gaze resting on her face and drifting, quite without him realising, to her mouth.
He jerked his eyes away. The last time he’d found himself looking at her mouth, it had nearly ended in disaster. It had been before he’d met Emma, a moment of madness one night when all at once things seemed to have changed. Max still didn’t know what had happened. One moment he and Allegra had been talking, and the next he’d been staring into her eyes, feeling as if he were teetering on the edge of a chasm. Scrabbling back, he’d dropped his gaze to her mouth instead, and that had been even worse.
He’d nearly kissed Allegra.
How weird would that have been? Luckily they’d both managed to look away at last, and they’d never referred to what had happened—or not happened—ever again. Max put it out of his mind. It was just one of those inexplicable moments that were best not analysed, and it was only occasionally, like now, when the memory hurtled back and caught him unawares, a sly punch under his ribs that interfered oddly with his breathing.
Max forced his mind back to Allegra’s question. ‘So what’s changed?’ he asked her, and she drew a deep breath.
‘I’ve got my big break! I’ve got my own assignment.’
‘Well, great...good for you, Legs. What’s it going to be? A hard-hitting exposé of corruption in the world of shoes? Earth-shattering revelations on where the hemline is going to be next year?’
‘Like I’d need your help if it was either of those!’ said Allegra tartly. ‘The man who wouldn’t know fashion if it tied him up and slapped him around the face with a wet fish.’
‘So what do you need me for?’
‘Promise you’ll hear me out before you say anything?’
Max swung his legs down and sat up as he eyed Allegra with foreboding. ‘Uh-oh, I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this!’
‘Please, Max! Just listen!’
‘Oh, all right,’ he grumbled, sitting back and folding his arms. ‘But this had better be good.’
‘Well...’ Allegra moistened her lips. ‘You know we have an editorial conference to plan features for the coming months?’
Max didn’t, but he nodded anyway. The less he had to hear about the workings of Glitz, the better.
‘So the other day we were talking about one of the girls whose relationship has just fallen apart.’
‘This is work? Gossiping about relationships?’ It didn’t sound like any conference Max had ever been in.
‘Our readers are interested in relationships.’ Allegra’s straight, shiny hair had swung forward again. She flicked it back over her shoulder and fixed him with a stern eye. ‘You’re supposed to be just listening,’ she reminded him.
‘So, yes, we were talking about that and how her problem was that she had totally unrealistic expectations,’ she went on when Max subsided with a sigh. ‘She wanted some kind of fairy tale prince.’
Princes. Fairy tales. Max shook his head. He thought about his own discussions at work: about environmental impact assessments and deliverables and bedrock depths. Sometimes it seemed to him that Allegra lived in a completely different world.
‘We had a long discussion about what women really want,’ she went on, ignoring him. ‘And we came to the conclusion that actually we want everything. We want a man who can fix a washing machine and plan the perfect date. Who’ll fight his way through a thicket if required but who can also dress well and talk intelligently at the theatre. Who can plan the perfect romantic date and sort out your tax and dance and communicate...’
Max had been listening with growing incredulity. ‘Good luck finding a bloke who can do all that!’
‘Exactly!’ Allegra leant forward eagerly. ‘Exactly! That was what we all said. There isn’t anyone like that out there. So I started thinking: what if we could make a man like that? What if we could create a boyfriend who was everything women wanted?’
‘How on earth would you go about that?’ asked Max, not sure whether to laugh or groan in disbelief.
‘By teaching him what to do,’ said Allegra. ‘That’s what I pitched to Stella: a piece on whether it’s possible to take an ordinary bloke and transform him into the perfect man.’
There was a silence. Max’s sense of foreboding was screaming a warning now.
‘Please tell me this isn’t the point where you say, And this is where you come in,’ he said in a hollow voice.
‘And this is where you come in, Max,’ said Allegra.
He stared at her incredulously. She was smiling, and he hoped to God it was because she was winding him up. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Think about it: you’re the ideal candidate. You haven’t got a girlfriend at the moment...and frankly,’ she added, unable to resist, ‘unless you get rid of that polo shirt, you won’t get another one.’
Max scowled. ‘Stop going on about my shirt. Emma never minded it.’
‘Maybe she never said she minded it, but I bet she did.’ On a roll, Allegra pointed a finger at Max. ‘The thing is, Max, that shirt is symptomatic of a man who can’t be bothered to make an effort. I’m guessing Emma was just too nice to point that out.’
Max ground his teeth. ‘For God’s sake, Allegra! It’s comfortable. Since when has comfort been an indictable offence?’
‘There are plenty of other new comfortable shirts out there that aren’t striped or buttoned too high at the collar, but you won’t buy them because that would mean changing, and changing is hard work,’ said Allegra. ‘And it’s not just a question of clothes. You need to change how you communicate, how you are. How much effort you put into thinking about your girlfriend and what will make her happy.’
Closing his eyes briefly, Max drew a breath and let it out with exaggerated patience. ‘Allegra, I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he said.
‘Why did Emma call off your engagement? I’ll bet it was because you weren’t prepared to make an effort, wasn’t it?’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ said Max, goaded at last. ‘If you must know, she met someone else. It’s not as if it’s a big secret,’ he went on, seeing Allegra’s awkward expression. It was obviously just as much a surprise to her as it had been to him. ‘I just don’t particularly feel like talking about it all the time.’
‘Emma seemed so nice,’ said Allegra hesitantly after a moment. ‘She didn’t seem like someone who’d cheat on you.’
‘She didn’t.’ Max blew out a breath, remembering how unprepared he had been for Emma’s revelation. ‘She was very honest. She said she’d met someone who works for one of our clients, and she didn’t want to sleep with him until she’d told me how he made her feel. He made her realise that we didn’t have any passion in our relationship any more.’
‘Eeuww.’
That was exactly what Max had thought. ‘I mean, passion!’ He practically spat out the word. ‘What in God’s name does passion mean?’
‘Well, I suppose...sexual chemistry,’ Allegra offered. She hesitated. ‘So were things in the bedroom department...?’ She trailed off delicately.
‘They were fine! Or I thought they were fine,’ Max amended bitterly. ‘I loved Emma, and I thought she loved me. She was always talking about how compatible we were. We had the same interests. We were friends. It was her idea to get married in the first place, and I couldn’t see any reason not to. We’d been together three years and it was the obvious next step.
‘Then Emma meets this guy and suddenly it’s all about magic and chemistry and getting swept off her feet!’ Max’s mouth twisted. ‘I said to her, magic doesn’t last. Having things in common is more important than sparks, but she wouldn’t listen to reason.’ He sighed, remembering. ‘It was so unlike her. Emma used to be so sensible. It was one of the things I loved about her. She wasn’t silly like—’
Like you.
Max managed to bite the words back in time, but he might as well not have bothered because they hung in the air anyway.
Allegra told herself she didn’t mind. She had more important things to worry about, like getting her assignment off the ground.
‘I don’t think you should give up on Emma, Max,’ she said persuasively. ‘You two were good together. It sounds to me as if she was feeling taken for granted.’
‘You being the great relationship expert,’ said Max dourly.
‘I know what I’m talking about when it comes to failed relationships,’ Allegra pointed out, unfazed. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me at all if Emma is just looking for more attention from you. And that’s where I can help you,’ she added cunningly, gaining confidence from the fact that Max hadn’t scoffed yet. ‘If you really want her back, put yourself in my hands. It’s a win for all of us, Max. I get my article written, you get Emma back, and Emma gets the perfect man!’
TWO
There was a long silence. Max’s eyes were narrowed. He was definitely thinking about it, Allegra realised jubilantly, and she forced herself not to say any more. If he felt she was pressurising him, he would back away. Softly, softly, catchee monkey.
‘What exactly would be involved?’ he asked cautiously at last, and Allegra kept her eyes downcast so that he wouldn’t see the triumph in them. She didn’t want to spook him now.
‘The idea is for you to complete a series of tasks,’ she began. ‘Sort of like a knightly quest...’ She stopped as his face changed. Oops, looked like she’d lost him already with the knightly quest. Hurriedly, Allegra switched tactics. Practical details, that would appeal to Max.
‘So your first task would be to have cocktails—’
‘I can’t stand those poncy drinks,’ he started grumbling immediately. ‘I don’t know how you women can sit there sucking through straws and fighting your way through umbrellas and cherries.’
‘—with Darcy King,’ Allegra finished talking over the top of him.
A pause. Max sat up straight. ‘What, not...?’
‘Yes, the Darcy King.’
Idiot. She should have mentioned Darcy right at the start. Darcy was every red-blooded male’s fantasy, a lingerie model with a sweet face and a sinful body. Allegra could practically see Max drooling already. If Darcy wouldn’t win him round to the assignment, nothing would.
‘You, Max Warriner, have the chance to go on a series of dates with Darcy King herself. Think about what your mates will say when they hear about that!’
‘Darcy King wouldn’t want to go out with me!’
‘Not if you were wearing that shirt, she wouldn’t, but that’s the whole point,’ said Allegra at her most persuasive. ‘Can we take you—an engineer with no dress sense and rudimentary social skills but with some useful abilities like how to put a flat pack from Ikea together—and turn you into the sophisticated, well-dressed kind of man that Darcy would like to go out with?’
Max looked as if he wasn’t sure how to take that. ‘She must have a boyfriend already, looking like that.’
‘Apparently she finds it hard to find men who can get past what she looks like and be interested in her,’ said Allegra. ‘Ianthe interviewed her a couple of months ago and it turns out she’s just like the rest of us, kissing a lot of toads and still hoping to find her prince.’
On the other side of the sofa, Max didn’t bother to disguise his incredulity. ‘And you think I could be Darcy King’s prince?’
‘Actually, no.’ Hmm, this was tricky. She didn’t want to discourage him, but it wouldn’t be fair to get his hopes up either. ‘I mean, even if you were to fall madly in love, it’s hard to imagine you having a future together. I don’t see Darcy wanting to go off to Shofrar.’
‘True. There’s not a lot of work for lingerie models out there,’ Max agreed. ‘But if we were madly in love, would that matter?’
For one awful moment Allegra thought that he was taking the whole matter seriously, but when she shot him a worried look he didn’t quite have time to conceal the mocking gleam in his blue-grey eyes, and she grinned and shoved him.
‘You know what I mean,’ she said. ‘It’s just a fun assignment, but Darcy gets to have a good time, and you might learn something about dealing with women. If you want to get Emma back, Max, this could be just the chance you need. Are you really going to turn it down because you don’t want to be seen sucking a cocktail through a straw?’
Max considered her. ‘That would be it? Drinking a cocktail with Darcy King?’
‘Well, obviously we’d need to make a few changes,’ said Allegra airily. ‘Get you a new wardrobe, a new haircut, that kind of thing, but the stylist would help you with that.’
‘Stylist?’
‘You’re really lucky.’ Allegra lowered her voice reverentially. ‘Dickie said he’d style the shoot personally.’
‘Shoot? What shoot? And who the hell is Dickie?’
He really didn’t have a clue, did he? ‘Dickie Roland is only the most famous stylist in London at the moment,’ she said. ‘He’s a superstar! I think his name is actually Georges, but in the fashion world he’s just known as Dickie after his trademark bow tie. He’s worn it ever since he came to London from Paris, and it’s hard to imagine him without one now.’
‘I hope you’re not planning to ask me to wear a bow tie!’
‘No, no, that’s Dickie’s “thing”. He’ll just make you look fabulous.’ Allegra sighed. Max clearly had no idea what an honour it was to be styled by Dickie. ‘But you have to promise to be nice to him. Dickie’s brilliant, but he can be a bit...temperamental.’
Max pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually discussing being styled!’ he muttered.
‘You’d want to look nice for Darcy, wouldn’t you?’
‘I haven’t said yes yet,’ he warned quickly. ‘What else is involved in this assignment of yours? It’s got to be more than putting on a shirt and slurping a cocktail.’
‘Once you’ve got through the cocktails, the next task is to cook Darcy dinner—and no ordering in a pizza. You have to cook it yourself.’ Darcy was a vegetarian and the meal had to be a romantic one, but Allegra would break that to Max later. For now she just had to get him to agree in principle. There would be time enough to talk him through the pesky details once he’d agreed.
Max grunted. ‘I could probably manage a meal, as long as she’s not expecting anything fancy.’
‘The whole point is to make an effort to cook something Darcy would like,’ said Allegra, smoothing impatience from her voice. It wouldn’t do to put his back up now, just when she had him nibbling at her hook! ‘When you’re having a drink, you’ll have to talk to her and find out what sort of food she prefers, and if she likes fancy, then you’re going to have to cook fancy. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she likes things simple,’ she added hastily as Max’s brows drew together.
‘Okay. So cocktail, cooking...what else?’
Best to take the next bit in a rush. ‘You’d need to do something cultural without looking bored—we’re thinking the theatre, perhaps, or the opening of an art exhibition—and that’s it, really. Then it’s just the ball,’ Allegra finished breezily and put on a bright smile, hoping that Max might have missed the last task.
No such luck. ‘Please tell me you’re thinking about a round thing that you kick around a field!’
‘Not exactly...’
‘Come on, Legs, there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’
‘All right, it’s a costume ball being held for charity. You’ll have to dress up—and learn to waltz.’
There, it was out, but, as expected, Max had started shaking his head at ‘costume’. ‘No way,’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t mind having a go at the other stuff, but dressing up? And dancing? I’d rather stick pins in my eyes!’
‘Oh, Max, please! We have to have the ball. Darcy’s really looking forward to it, and learning how to dance would be such a great gesture. It would be so...romantic.’
‘What’s romantic about making a tit of yourself on the dance floor?’
‘I’ve always wanted to go to a ball like that. Not just a dinner dance bash but a real ball, with proper ball gowns and waltzing...’ Allegra’s eyes were dreamy at the mere thought of it, and she pressed a hand to the base of her throat as she sighed.
She had grown up in a house full of books, but Flick’s shelves were lined with heavyweight biographies and award-winning literary novels. Flick was dismissive of commercial fiction, and as a child Allegra’s books had been uniformly worthy. It had been a revelation to go and stay with Libby’s family, where the house was full of dog-eared paperbacks with broken spines and yellowing pages.
Best of all, Max’s mother had a collection of Regency romances and Allegra had devoured them every time she went. She loved the ordered world they portrayed with those rakish dukes and spirited governesses. She loved the dashing way the heroes drove their curricles, their curling lips, their codes of honour.
And their tight breeches, of course.
Best of all were the ball scenes, which were charged with sexual tension as the hero and heroine clasped hands and danced, oblivious to anyone but each other.
A wistful sigh leaked out of her. ‘I’d love to waltz,’ she told Max, who was predictably unimpressed. ‘It’s my fantasy to be swept masterfully around a ballroom by a dashing hero, who knows just how to dance me unobtrusively out onto a terrace where it’s dark and warm and the air is sweet with the scent of summer flowers and he’s dancing with me along the terrace but he’s overcome by passion and he presses me up against the balustrade and tells me he loves me madly and can’t live without me and he’s begging me to marry him—’
Running out of breath, she broke off to find Max watching her quizzically.
‘I’m glad you stopped,’ he said. ‘I was wondering if I should throw a glass of water at you to stop you hyperventilating.’
‘You’ve got to admit it would be romantic,’ Allegra insisted.
Max showed no sign of admitting any such thing. He got back to the business in hand.
‘Why not get that boyfriend of yours to take you if you want to go so much? What’s his name? Jerry?’
‘Jeremy.’
‘That’s right. Of course he’s a Jeremy,’ said Max dismissively. ‘I bet he knows how to dance. I only met him once but he struck me as a guy who knows how to do everything.’
Jeremy had been very accomplished, that was for sure, but he was much too serious to go dancing. He was interested in politics and the economy. He could talk about the arts and international relations. He had been well-dressed and charming. Not the most practical guy in the world perhaps, but Allegra couldn’t imagine him ever needing to assemble any flat packs in any case.
‘In fact, why not get him to do your whole assignment?’ Max said and Allegra sighed and tucked her legs more comfortably beneath her.
‘It wouldn’t be much of a transformation story,’ she said. ‘Besides, I haven’t seen him for a while. He wasn’t really my boyfriend.’
She had tried to be upset when Jeremy stopped calling, but honestly, it had been a relief not to have to try quite so hard for a while. Jeremy’s conversation might be impressive but it was light on humour and, in spite of growing up with Flick Fielding as a mother, the sad truth was that Allegra’s interests veered more towards celebrity gossip and shoes than political intrigue. Flick would be appalled if she had guessed, and Allegra did her best not to disappoint her mother, but sometimes it was hard to keep up.
‘We only went out a couple of times,’ she said. ‘Jeremy was just...someone Flick introduced me to.’
That would be right, thought Max. Allegra’s mother liked to keep her daughter toeing the line and would soon veto any unsuitable boyfriends. Tricky Flicky, as she was known by those unfortunate enough to have been subjected to one of her gruelling interviews, was a media heavyweight, famous as much for her style as for her incisive questioning. Much as they might squirm under the lash of her tongue and steely-eyed gaze, politicians lobbied to be interviewed by Flick Fielding. Flick had gravitas, they all agreed that.
Whereas Allegra...Allegra was warm and funny and creative and kind, but gravitas? No.
Max had never understood why Flick, with all her brains, didn’t just accept that rather than trying to force Allegra into her own mould.
‘So, you’re not heartbroken?’ he asked Allegra cautiously. Because he had learnt that with women you never could tell.
‘No.’ Allegra blew out a long sigh and pushed her hair away from her face. ‘Jeremy was just the latest in a long line of men who turned out not to be The One after all. I had such high hopes when I first met him too.’
‘You know, you might get on better if you stopped letting your mother choose your boyfriends.’ Max kept his voice carefully neutral but Allegra bridled anyway.
‘She doesn’t choose them!’
‘Come on, when have you ever gone out with someone your mother wouldn’t approve of?’
‘I happen to like men who are attractive and intelligent and witty and successful,’ Allegra said defensively. ‘Of course she approves of them.’
‘Maybe I should have said that you should try going out with someone because you like him, not because you think your mother will.’
‘I did like Jeremy.’ Clearly ruffled, Allegra wriggled her shoulders. ‘Anyway, that’s all beside the point. Jeremy’s not around and you are, and Max, you’re perfect for my assignment! There’s so much scope for you to improve.’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘You know what I mean. You could get so much out of it too. You should be leaping at the chance to learn how to give a woman what she really wants! You’re going to Shofrar in a couple of months and the piece won’t be out until after you leave, but if you play your cards right you could win Emma back and take her with you. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
Was it? Max thought about Emma. She’d been so easy to be with. They’d been comfortable together, and it would be good to have that back again. Of course he wanted her back...but he wanted her the way she had been before she lost her head and started wanting more of everything: more excitement, more passion, more attention, more effort. Max thought the whole idea was to find someone you didn’t have to make an effort for, but apparently he was wrong about that.
He missed Emma, though, and he missed the warm feeling of knowing that you’d found the woman you wanted to settle down with. He would never find anyone better than Emma. She was perfect for him.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course I do.’
‘Well, then,’ said Allegra, satisfied. ‘I bet if Emma gets wind of the fact that you’re going out with Darcy she’ll be jealous.’
‘I wouldn’t really be going out with her,’ Max pointed out.
‘Emma won’t know that, will she? She’ll be back in no time, you’ll see.’
‘I don’t know.’ Max pulled down his mouth. ‘I wouldn’t bet on it, and in the meantime I really don’t want to dress up and learn to dance just on the off chance that she does. I can’t imagine Emma caring about whether I can waltz or not.’
‘You couldn’t imagine her being carried away by passion either,’ Allegra pointed out.
‘No, but—’
It was at that point that Allegra gave up on arguments and threw pride to the winds. Grabbing his hand, she held it between her own.
‘Oh, please, Max! Please, please, please, please, please! Please say you’ll do it! This is my big chance to impress Stella. If I don’t find someone to take part in this assignment, I won’t get another one. I’ll be a failure!’ she said extravagantly. ‘My career will be over before it’s begun and how will I tell Flick?’