Mr. (Not Quite) Perfect Read Online Free PDF

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?’
    She leant beseechingly towards him and Max found himself snared in the big eyes. Funny how he had never noticed before how beautiful they were, or how green, the lovely dark mossy green of a secret wood...
    Secret wood? Max gave himself a mental slap. God, he’d be spouting poetry next!
    ‘I know you don’t think much of Glitz ,’ Allegra was babbling on, ‘but this is my career! What else am I going to do if I’m a failure as a journalist?’
    ‘You could illustrate those children’s books the way you always said you were going to.’ He and his family shouldn’t have been surprised when Allegra announced that she was going to follow Flick into journalism, but none of them had ever had her down as a writer. Max always thought of her drawing—quick, vivid sketches that brought a face or an animal to life in a few simple lines.
    She drew back, thrown by his suggestion. ‘I can’t make a living as an illustrator.’
    What she meant was: Flick wouldn’t be pleased. Flick wanted a daughter who would follow in her footsteps, a daughter who would be a journalist on television or for some respected newspaper. Flick had no time for Allegra’s ‘little drawings’. Max thought it was a shame.
    ‘It’s just a few hours of your time, Max.’ Allegra reverted to the problem in hand.
    Would it cost him that much to help her? Max found himself thinking. She was so longing to be a success, and she deserved a break. She’d been a good friend to Libby—and to him, he acknowledged. Allegra tried so hard to be ruthless and driven like her formidable mother, but she just couldn’t quite manage it. She liked to pretend that she was tough, but she was a sucker for every sob story that came along. Allegra would never admit it, but she was hampered by warmth and kindness and humour from ever pleasing Flick.
    ‘And if I say no, I suppose you’ll refuse to pretend to be my fiancée when I meet Bob Laskovski?’
    Allegra looked momentarily disconcerted and Max had to stop himself rolling his eyes. It had obviously never crossed her mind that she could do more than beg him to help her. She had such a transparent expression. He could read the agonizing in her green eyes, practically hear her wondering