His Cinderella Mistress Page 9

  ‘When did your mother die?’ Max prompted huskily.

  January looked up. ‘I was three, so…twenty-two years ago now,’ she acknowledged with a pained frown.

  Max frowned darkly. ‘That must have been—’ He shook his head. ‘I was five when my mother left,’ he said abruptly.

  And as instantly regretted the admission, January could see by the surprise in his eyes he wasn’t quick enough to hide, his expression becoming guarded. Making January wonder if he had ever confided that to anyone before today. Max certainly didn’t come across as a man who was comfortable confiding his personal life to other people.

  ‘Shouldn’t you go and put something on your feet?’ he prompted with unwarranted harshness.

  ‘Yes, I should,’ January acknowledged lightly, standing up. ‘I won’t be long,’ she told him as she left the room.

  But long enough to give him chance to put his defences back in order; the last thing she needed was to feel any sort of empathy with Max Golding—worse, to actually feel sorry for him!

  He wouldn’t welcome the emotion anyway. Any more than he would welcome having her in love with him.

  Which, she now realised, despite all those hateful things he had said to her on Sunday evening, she most certainly was.

  May, it seemed, had given her warning of caution to the wrong person!

  What was he doing here? Max questioned himself impatiently as January left the kitchen. He had known as soon as January had opened the door to his knock that she wasn’t the woman who had been attacked last night, so why hadn’t he just made his excuses and left?

  Because he couldn’t! Because he had had one hell of a scare this morning when he’d heard that television announcement about the attacker’s latest victim being in hospital! Because just seeing January standing on the doorstep, so obviously alive and well, meant he hadn’t been able to drag himself away from just looking at her!

  Although why on earth he had compounded that by telling her about his mother, he had no idea!

  He never talked about his mother’s desertion. Never told anyone of the effect it had had on him. It simply wasn’t good enough to claim he had merely been returning January’s confidence about her own mother. Her mother had died, for goodness’ sake, not walked out on her!

  He had to get away from here. Had to go. Now!

  But before he could even stand up to leave the outside door opened and May walked in, her eyes widening in surprise as she saw him sitting comfortably ensconced at the kitchen table. Although she recovered well, he thought, that obvious look of surprise turning into a polite smile of enquiry.

  ‘January is upstairs putting on dry socks,’ he told her dryly.

  Dark brows rose over mocking green eyes. ‘What did she do with the last pair?’ May drawled, taking off her jacket to hang it on the back of the kitchen door.

  ‘Fell in a snowdrift,’ Max supplied wryly.

  ‘Ah,’ May nodded, obviously not in the least surprised by the explanation. ‘Can I get you another cup of coffee, or are you okay?’ she offered as she boiled up some water for her own hot drink.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Max dismissed. ‘How did your check-up go?’

  May turned to him with a puzzled frown. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘January said you were at the dentist,’ he explained.

  ‘Ah.’ May nodded. ‘It was fine,’ she added dismissively, busying herself making her cup of coffee.

  Max’s gaze narrowed shrewdly as he continued to watch her. He hadn’t missed May’s complete puzzlement at his mention of a check-up, or the fact that her gaze hadn’t quite met his when she’d answered him; if May Calendar had been to the dentist then his name wasn’t Maxim Patrick Golding!

  Which begged the question, where had May really been? And why had she lied to January about it?

  Not that it was really any of his business, but—

  ‘May!’ January greeted more than a little self-consciously as she came back into the kitchen and found her sister there. ‘How did—?’

  ‘We’ve already done the dentist bit,’ Max cut in derisively. ‘Your sister’s teeth are as healthy as yours,’ he added huskily, knowing as he saw January’s confused blush that his barb had hit home, that she remembered as well as he did the nip she had given him on the shoulder on Sunday evening with those healthy teeth, as he’d kissed and caressed her breasts.

  What January couldn’t know was that he still had a bruise on his shoulder as proof of those healthy teeth!

  The blush deepened in January’s cheeks even as she shot him a warning look.

  Ah, so the protective May still didn’t know what had happened between January and himself on Sunday evening!

  Not that he was exactly proud of himself for the way things had got so out of hand that evening. Or the way he had deliberately made light of it to January afterwards…!

  Because, no matter what he might have said to her, he hadn’t slept at all on Sunday night. Last night either, for that matter. Instead he had lain awake both those nights arguing with himself. Half of him had wanted to tell January that he hadn’t meant any of the hurtful things he had said to her, that it had been pure defence on his part. But the other half of him knew that he would be admitting so much more than that if he were to tell her those things. And that he simply couldn’t—wouldn’t!—do.

  The television announcement this morning about yet another attack had been his undoing, though; the thought that it might be January lying in that hospital bed, battered and bruised, had been enough to throw him into a panic.

  Not that coming to the farm had been his first instinct. No, he had telephoned the police first, who had refused to give out any information whatsoever about the attack, least of all the victim’s name. The hospital had been no more forthcoming, either. Leaving him no choice—unless he wanted to just sit and go quietly out of his mind with worry!—but to come to the farm.

  But now that he was here, could see for himself that January was unharmed, he really had no idea what he was still doing here.

  Or how to make a dignified exit!

  ‘I should be going—’

  ‘Don’t feel you have to leave on my account,’ May drawled as she leant back against the Aga, coffee mug in her hand as she looked across at him with mocking green eyes.

  His mouth tightened. ‘I’m sure I’ve kept you both from your work enough for one day,’ he insisted hardly.

  ‘It can wait.’ May shrugged. ‘No matter how hard or how long you work on a farm, Max, there’s always more to be done,’ she added ruefully.

  He frowned. ‘In that case—’

  ‘That doesn’t mean we’re interested in selling it,’ January told him harshly.

  Max looked across at her calmly. ‘I was actually going to say, why don’t you get someone in to help you if there’s so much to do?’

  ‘Good question,’ May derided.

  ‘It isn’t good at all!’ January corrected snappily. ‘There’s the little problem of paying someone to help.’ She turned on Max sharply. ‘Something, it must be obvious even to you, that we aren’t in a position to do.’

  ‘January…’ May rebuked softly. ‘Max was only asking,’ she reasoned gently before turning to give Max a rueful smile. ‘We did have some help last year after—after our father died,’ she explained huskily. ‘It didn’t work out.’ She shrugged.

  He couldn’t help noticing that January looked rather pale now, May’s gaze once again evasive, making him wonder in what way it hadn’t worked out.

  He shrugged. ‘It was just a thought.’

  ‘A totally impractical one,’ January snapped scornfully. ‘Although that must be rather good for you to hear,’ she continued scathingly. ‘After all, it would suit your plans perfectly if we were forced into selling the farm because we simply couldn’t manage it any more!’

  ‘January—’

  ‘Don’t be fooled by him for a minute, May,’ January harshly interrupted her sister’s reasoning tone. ‘Max—and
the Marshall Corporation—would like nothing better than for us to fall flat on our faces! Well, dream on, Max!’ she told him forcefully. ‘You will never get your mercenary hands on our farm! Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she added hardly, grabbing her coat from the back of one of the chairs. ‘You can stay and talk to him if you want to, May, but I have work to do!’

  The room seemed to reverberate as she slammed the door behind her, May’s wince matching Max’s as he glanced across at her ruefully.

  ‘What did you do to upset her this time?’ May mused with a grimace.

  ‘Do I need to “do” anything in order to upset January?’ he came back wryly.

  ‘Probably not,’ May sighed.

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ He nodded, his gaze narrowing. ‘What was his name?’ he rasped.

  May looked at him undecidedly for several long seconds, and then she gave a rueful shrug. ‘Ben,’ she supplied economically.

  His admiration for this woman seemed to grow by the minute. She had obviously taken over the role of mother to her two younger sisters while only aged five or six, still a baby herself, in fact, was possessed of a lively intelligence, and her beauty was of the inner as well as outer kind.

  ‘Thank you.’ He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head.

  May frowned. ‘For what?’

  ‘For not insulting my intelligence by denying there was a “he”,’ Max drawled. ‘That “he” was the hired help you had here last summer. I’m also guessing it’s the same “he” who hurt January. The same “he” who prompted your warning me off her on Sunday evening,’ he added ruefully.

  ‘What would be the point in my denying any of that?’ May shrugged. ‘I realized on Sunday evening that I had probably said more than I should have done.’ She sighed self-disgustedly. ‘You’re an intelligent man—’

  ‘Thank you again,’ he drawled dryly.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I like you!’ she snapped, green eyes flashing a warning.

  ‘That’s a pity…’ he smiled ruefully ‘…because I like you,’ he explained at her questioning glance. ‘Oh, not in that way,’ he assured her as her glance became sceptical. ‘One Calendar sister, I’ve discovered, is one too many!’

  ‘I’m glad about that,’ May drawled. ‘Max, what are you doing with my little sister?’

  He sighed, that sigh quickly becoming a grimace. ‘How the hell should I know?’ he murmured heavily.

  She laughed incredulously. ‘Well, if you don’t know I certainly don’t!’

  What was he doing? January had made it more than clear when they’d parted on Sunday that she never intended seeing him again through choice, and he knew her well enough to believe she meant it.

  So instead the mountain had come to Mohammed. Because he had feared for January’s safety after hearing about the latest attack.

  But he could have picked up the telephone, called the farm, then any one of the sisters could have given him that information.

  Instead he had chosen to drive out here in order to see for himself that January was safe and well.

  Why?

  ‘Have you worked it out yet, Max?’

  He looked sharply across at May, her too-innocent expression belied by the laughter gleaming in those intelligent green eyes. ‘Tell you what,’ she continued lightly. ‘Go back to your hotel for a few hours, give January chance to calm down,’ she added wryly. ‘And then come back here this evening and have dinner with us.’

  Max’s gaze narrowed on her suspiciously. Why was May inviting him to dinner? She had no more reason to trust him than did her sisters…

  May laughed softly at his obvious confusion. ‘Mark it down as a thank-you for preventing me from telling another lie earlier—when January was about to ask me about my dental appointment,’ she told him huskily.

  So he had been right about that. He could also see that May wasn’t about to confide in him, of all people, exactly where she had been, or who she had really seen this morning.

  He grimaced. ‘January isn’t going to thank you for inviting me to dinner.’

  May shrugged. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, my youngest sister isn’t very happy with me at the moment, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘My consorting with the enemy isn’t going to make that any worse than it already is!’

  Max winced. ‘The enemy? Is that really how you all see me?’

  It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling, he had to admit. Oh, not all of the deals he had completed on Jude’s behalf over the years had been easy, or indeed amicable, but he had never actually seen himself as the enemy before!

  It wasn’t a feeling he liked.

  ‘Come to dinner, Max,’ May dismissed laughingly. ‘I’m cooking roast chicken,’ she told him enticingly. ‘I’m sure a home-cooked meal isn’t something you have too often,’ she added ruefully.

  This woman, Max was slowly realizing, saw altogether too much. God help the man who tried to make her his own!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘YOU’VE done what?’ January stared at her eldest sister incredulously.

  ‘I said you need to lay four places at the table for dinner because I’ve invited Max to eat with us this evening,’ May repeated calmly as she continued to stir the gravy. ‘In fact, he should be here any minute.’

  That was what January had thought she’d said! ‘Have you gone completely mad, May?’ she gasped.

  May grimaced. ‘Not as far as I’m aware, no. Look,’ her sister continued firmly as she could see January was about to disagree with her, ‘isn’t it better to—to, well, get to know Max a little, let him get to know us in return? It’s much harder to walk all over someone if you actually know them personally,’ she reasoned impatiently as January continued to look furious.

  January gave a disgusted snort. ‘Max doesn’t seem to be having too much trouble with that so far!’

  She really couldn’t believe May had invited Max to dinner. Or that Max had accepted the invitation…!

  He had to know, couldn’t fail to appreciate, that he was as welcome here as a rampaging bull! That he actually proposed to be more destructive than that bull!

  As for May…!

  ‘I think you’re wrong about that, January,’ her sister said consideringly. ‘In fact, I sense a distinct wavering in his resolve to get us out of here,’ she added happily.

  January shook her head. ‘Then you can see more than I can! March is going to think you’ve gone completely off your trolley, too,’ she assured her with satisfaction.

  Her eldest sister shrugged. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’ she murmured enigmatically.

  ‘You can, if you like,’ January snapped, pointedly laying three places at the table. ‘I would rather eat out!’

  ‘January—’

  ‘Whew, what a lousy evening!’ March complained as she swept into the kitchen, bringing a blast of cold air and falling snow in with her. ‘And talking of lousy evenings—look who I met outside!’ She stepped aside to reveal Max standing in the doorway behind her.

  January stared at him, still unable to believe May seriously expected her to calmly sit down and eat dinner with him. Or that he should dare to sit down to dinner with them!

  Was he so insensitive? Could he not see how unwelcome he was here? Could he not see how much she didn’t want him here?

  ‘Shut the door, for goodness’ sake,’ May advised briskly. ‘It looks as if it’s getting worse out there,’ she added frowningly after glancing out of the kitchen window.

  ‘It is,’ March confirmed ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t send a dog out there again tonight,’ she added dryly, raising mocking brows in Max’s direction. ‘Do you intend staying long, Mr Golding?’ she prompted pointedly.

  Trust March to get straight to the heart of the matter, January acknowledged admiringly, at the same time shooting May a triumphant look.

  ‘Max is my guest, March,’ May reproved softly.

  ‘Really?’ March looked impressed.

  Impressed wasn’t exactly the way January
felt about this situation! Although March’s comment about the worsening weather pretty well put paid to her own idea of going out for the evening!

  ‘In that case, I had better go up and change before dinner,’ March taunted.

  ‘Don’t bother on my account.’ Max spoke for the first time since his arrival. ‘May assured me it would be an informal evening,’ he added with a glance down at his own casual trousers and what looked like a blue cashmere sweater beneath his thick outer jacket.

  The humour increased in March’s hazel grey-green eyes. ‘I’m going to dress down, Mr Golding, not up,’ she told him laughingly before leaving the room.

  ‘Keep an eye on the gravy for me, will you, January?’ May asked distractedly as she followed March up the stairs.

  Leaving January completely alone in the kitchen with Max. Great! Just what she had wanted!

  ‘Did May tell you I would be here this evening?’ he prompted, his sharp gaze passing briefly over the three places set at the table.

  January glared at him. ‘We were just—discussing it, when you arrived,’ she bit out tautly.

  His mouth twisted self-derisively. ‘What you really mean is that you were making it clear you aren’t exactly thrilled at my coming here,’ he accepted mockingly.

  ‘You knew I wouldn’t be,’ she snapped impatiently, moving to noisily lay the missing fourth place at the table. ‘How could you?’ She turned to glare at him. ‘What do you think you’re hoping to achieve? Because May—bless her!—may have been won over by you, for some inexplicable reason, but I can assure you that March and I aren’t fooled for a moment!’

  He gave an admiring glance upstairs. ‘She’s something else, isn’t she?’ he murmured smilingly.

  ‘May or March?’ she challenged disgustedly.

  ‘Both of them, actually.’ He smiled. ‘For different reasons, of course.’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ January agreed sarcastically—not having the least idea what he meant! She hardly knew May at the moment, so illogical was her behaviour, although March—thank goodness—was her usual sharp-tongued self.

  ‘I bought a peace-offering.’ Max held up the bottle of wine he had been holding the whole time he’d stood beside the closed kitchen door. ‘May mentioned we were having chicken, so…’ He moved to place the bottle of white wine on the table. ‘It’s already chilled enough,’ he added dryly.