‘I don’t need any more clothes.’
Max looked nonplussed for a moment, as if he literally could not compute Darcy’s reaction. It would have been funny if she hadn’t been so angry. And what was making her even angrier was the evidence that this was obviously a regular occurrence for him...bringing women shopping.
So angry that she couldn’t see straight, and feeling seriously constricted in the dress, she went straight to the door and walked out, almost tripping in the ridiculous heels. She was halfway down the street, with steam coming out of her ears, before Max caught up with her, standing in front of her to block her way easily.
‘What the hell was that?’
‘Exactly. What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t used to wooing women? Does taking them shopping not count as wooing? Because evidently you do it a lot, going by your familiarity with those assistants in that shop—and quite a few others, I’d imagine.’
Max threw his hands up in the air. ‘What woman doesn’t love shopping?’
Darcy pointed a finger at herself. ‘This one.’ Then she folded her arms, her eyes narrowed on him. ‘Maybe you consider taking women shopping as foreplay?’
They glowered at each other for a long moment, and then Max sighed deeply and put his hands on his hips. Eventually he muttered something like, ‘Should have known better...’
Darcy put a hand behind her ear. ‘Sorry? What was that?’
Max looked at her and his mouth twitched ever so slightly. He said, with exaggerated precision, ‘I’m sorry for assuming you would want to go shopping. I should have known better.’
Darcy’s own mouth was tempted to twitch, but she curbed the urge. ‘Yes, you should. And I can’t breathe in this dress.’
Max’s gold gaze dropped and took her in, and then he said roughly, ‘I don’t think I can breathe with you in that dress.’
Immediately Darcy’s brain started to overheat and she was in danger of forgetting why she was angry.
Max put out his hand. ‘Come on—let’s take it back.’
With her hand in his, walking back down the street, Darcy felt a little foolish for storming out like a petulant child. That wasn’t her. She winced. But it was her around Max. He just wound her up. After all, he’d only been doing what he’d thought would make her happy.
She squeezed his hand and he looked at her just before they got to the shop. ‘I’m sorry. I just... I’m not that into shopping. It’s not that I’m not grateful.’
Max gave her a wry grin. ‘I didn’t exactly go about it with any finesse. Come on.’
He pushed the door open and a very sheepish Darcy walked in behind him, mortified under the speculative gazes of the staff.
When she was dressed in her own clothes she breathed a sigh of relief, and when she was out in the main part of the shop again she spied a bright, colourful scarf and took it to the till.
Immediately Max was there to pay for it. Darcy glared at him, but he ignored her and she sighed. When they were outside she tucked the scarf into her bag and he looked at her expressively. Feeling defensive, she said, ‘Well, I felt like I had to buy something!’
Max rolled his eyes and said dryly, ‘Believe me, those saleswomen are like piranhas.’
Darcy sniffed. ‘I just felt bad, that’s all.’
Max took her hand and Darcy glanced up. He was looking at her with a funny expression on his face. ‘You’ve got a good heart, Darcy Lennox.’
She snorted, but inwardly fluttered. ‘Hardly.’
And then, just as they were passing another boutique—much smaller but no less exclusive—Darcy stopped in her tracks. The dress in the window was exquisite—off the shoulder, deep royal blue satin, with a scooped neck and a boned bodice that would accentuate an hourglass figure.
When Darcy realised what she was doing she grew hot with embarrassment and went to keep walking, but Max stopped her, an incredulous look on his face.
‘And you call me mercurial?’
Darcy smiled weakly. ‘I didn’t say I hate shopping. I’m like a heat-seeking missile—once I see what I want I go for it and then get out again.’
‘Do you want it?’ he asked.
Darcy squirmed. ‘Well...I like it...’ She looked at it wistfully.