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Darcy smiled as she picked up the plates and said wryly, as she hid the dart of inevitable pain, ‘Is it that obvious?’
John took a sip of wine, his eyes following Darcy as she went into the kitchen. ‘Hate to say it, love, but yes. You’ve got that unmistakable Eeyore droop to your lovely mouth and eyes.’
Darcy laughed just as a knock came to her door. She looked at John and he shrugged. ‘Must be another neighbour?’
She went over to open it and swung it wide to reveal a very tall, very beautifully disheveled man with dark blond hair, olive skin and tawny eyes. And a distinctive scar. Dressed all in black.
She could almost hear John’s jaw drop behind her. And she was belatedly and bizarrely aware that she was still smiling after his comment.
The smile slid off her face as shock and disbelief set in. ‘Max.’
‘Darcy.’
Her name on his tongue curled through her like warm honey, oozing over the ice packed around her heart.
‘Can I come in?’
It was shock that made her act like an automaton, standing back, opening the door wider so that Max could step in, bringing with him the cool tang of autumn.
Darcy saw him clock John and the way his face tightened and darkened. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, adding to his general air of effortless disrepute.
‘I’m interrupting?’ He sounded stiff. Not at all like his usual insouciant self. Fazed by nothing.
Darcy tore her eyes off Max, almost afraid that he might disappear, to see that John had somehow picked his jaw back up off the ground and was standing up.
‘No, I was just leaving.’
She was glad he’d spoken, because she wasn’t sure she could speak.
She felt a quick supportive squeeze of her hand and then her neighbour was gone, closing the door behind him.
Darcy realised how close she was standing to Max and how huge he seemed in her small flat. Had he always been so huge?
She moved away, towards the table that still held the dinner detritus.
‘You’ve lost weight.’ Max’s tone was almost accusing.
Darcy turned around. Of all the things she’d expected to hear from him it hadn’t been that. And for someone who’d spent much of her lifetime lamenting her fuller figure it was ironic that in the past few months she’d managed to drop the guts of a stone without even trying.
She crossed her arms, suddenly angry that Max was here. Invading her space. Invading her mind. Being angry with him was easier than analysing other, far more dangerous emotions.
‘You’ve hardly come all this way to comment on my weight, Max.’ Her insides tightened. ‘Is it something to do with the divorce?’ She hadn’t received the papers yet, but had been expecting something soon.
Max shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. The gesture was so familiar that Darcy had to bite her lip for fear of emitting some sound.
‘No, it’s not about the divorce...it’s something else.’ Max started to prowl around the flat, as if inspecting it, looking into the kitchen. He turned to face her, frowning. ‘Why didn’t you buy a bigger place?’
Darcy felt defensive. ‘I didn’t want a mortgage and I like this—it suits me.’
‘I would have given you more money for somewhere bigger.’
She dropped her arms, hands spread out. ‘Max...why are you here?’
He looked at her so intently that she began to sweat, becoming self-conscious in her roll-neck top and jeans. It had been ‘Casual Friday’ at her new job that day. Working as PA to the CEO of a dynamic software company was sufficiently new and different to give her the illusion that she could avoid thinking about Max during the day. That illusion was now well and truly shattered.
‘I wanted to make sure you had your place...that you were settled. I owe you that.’
Darcy’s insides fluttered. ‘I have it, Max. And I wouldn’t have had it without you.’
