The Bride Fonseca Needs(21)

Max was already driving smoothly out of the villa and he looked at her  with dark amusement and said, 'I have to admit that your...portability  makes you a little easier to control.'

Darcy made a strangled sound of outrage and crossed her arms over her  chest, glaring out of the window as Max drove away from the villa. Damn  him and his superior strength.

But while she hated the ease with which he was able to compel her to do  his bidding all she could think about was how it had felt to be held so  securely in his arms-how her instinct had been to burrow closer and  seek a kind of refuge she'd never felt like seeking before. The fact  that she could be as susceptible as the next woman to Max's caveman  antics was not welcome.

* * *

Darcy only recognised where they were when she saw the signs for  Milano. She turned to Max and said eagerly, 'You've come to your senses  and we're going back to Rome to work?'

He quirked a half-smile. 'No. I'm taking you out.'

Out where, though? Darcy looked at him suspiciously but he gave nothing away.

And then he said, 'Apart from my very serious intention to get you into  my bed, it'll be good for us to be seen together the weekend after our  marriage. We are meant to be on honeymoon, after all.'

Darcy had no answer for that. He was right.

They parked in a private and exclusive car park with valet parking and  emerged onto a busy Milan street that was bustling with weekend  activity.

It was like a fashion parade, with beautiful women walking up and  down-some with the requisite small dogs-and beautiful men... A little  too metrosexual for Darcy, but then this was the fashion capital of  Italy and arguably Europe. Predictably, Max stood out among these  beautiful people and there were plenty of heads turning in recognition  and appreciation.

After all, Darcy recalled, hadn't the Italians invented a word for walking around in order to be seen? Passeggiata?

Max took Darcy's hand in his and led her down the street. She wanted to  pull away, but as if reading her mind he held on tight. Veering off to a  small side street, Max ducked into a boutique with a world-famous  designer's name over the door.                       
       
           



       

He was greeted like a superstar-and as a regular, Darcy noted with a  dart of something dark. But before she could emit so much as a squeak  she was whisked away behind a curtain and Max was left out in the foyer.  At one stage she caught a glimpse of him sipping coffee and reading a  newspaper.

She was completely bemused as industrious assistants flitted around her  like exotic butterflies. Finally fitted into a stunning bodycon  cocktail dress-a bit too bodycon for Darcy's taste-she was all but  pushed back out onto the main salon floor. She realised she was being  paraded for Max's benefit when he lowered his paper and looked her over  as if she were a brood mare.

Anger started down low and then rose through her body in a tidal wave  of heat and humiliation. She hissed at him, 'What the hell is this?'

His eyes snapped to hers. 'I'm taking you shopping.'

'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.

Max pulled her into the shop and this time paced the small space while  she tried the dress on, together with suitable underwear and shoes.

The assistant stood back and said appreciatively, 'Bella figura, signora.'

Max appeared at the dressing room door, clearly a little bored. When his eyes widened Darcy's heart-rate zoomed skywards.

'Is it okay?' she asked shyly. And then she babbled, 'You know, I probably do need a dress for the Montgomerys' party, so...'

'We'll take it.' Max's voice sounded slightly constricted.

Once Max had arranged for the dress and sundries to be sent to his  office in Rome they left again. Darcy had tried to pay for the dress but  of course he hadn't let her.

Back out in the sunshine, he looked at her and said, almost warily, 'What now?'

Darcy looked around, enjoying seeing Max knocked slightly off his confident stride. 'Well, first I want some gelato...'

Max's eyes boggled. 'After you've just bought that dress?' And then he shook his head. 'Incredibile.'

Smiling now, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. Darcy  looked around surreptitiously for paparazzi, but couldn't see any  obvious cameras pointed at them.

'And after the gelato?'

She screwed up her nose and thought. 'Well, I've never seen The Last  Supper by Leonardo Da Vinci, so that'd be nice, and I'd like to walk on  the roof of the Duomo and see if we can see the Alps.' Darcy looked at  Max. 'What about you?'

Max blinked. What about him? No one had ever asked him before what he'd  like to do. And the fact that he'd assumed for a second that he could  just take Darcy shopping- He shook his head mentally now at his lack of  forethought. But he hadn't been thinking-he'd just wanted to get them  out of the villa before she could lock herself in the study.