The Tycoon's Mistress: His Cinderella Mistress

CHAPTER NINE

‘THIS is really very good of you.’

January turned to look at Max as he stood in the doorway watching her make up the bed he was to sleep in.

And it wasn’t very good of her at all. She knew it wasn’t. And so did he.

She still couldn’t believe those brief feelings of suspicion she had had about him earlier. Worse, couldn’t believe she had let Max see those suspicions.

Of course he wasn’t responsible for the attack on Josh. Yes, Max had been angry at the younger man on Sat urday when Josh had dared to kiss her, had looked more than capable of hitting Josh when he’d pulled him away from January. But on Sunday evening, the very next day, Max had made it more than plain that she would never be more than a brief flirtation to him. Rather nullifying any feelings of violence he might have previously felt towards Josh!

She drew in a deep breath before straightening, facing Max across the width of her father’s bedroom. ‘I really do apologise for—well, for any thoughts I may have had earlier—’

‘That I’m the person who attacked Josh?’ Max finished scathingly as he strolled further into the room. ‘If it makes you feel any better, January, I’m sure the police will have been informed about my—little disagreement, with Josh on Saturday evening, and will be following it up accordingly. They will no doubt be questioning me about the incident,’ he explained dryly as she looked puzzled.

January could feel her cheeks paling. She hadn’t thought of that.

How awful.

But no more awful, surely, than those brief suspicions she had had concerning Max?

‘Was this your father’s bedroom?’

She turned back to Max, to see him looking interestedly around the room, her father’s brush and comb set still on the dressing table, along with several paperback books, a photograph of the three sisters taking pride of place beside the clock on the bedside cabinet.

Max reached out to pick up the photograph, studying it for several long moments, before putting it carefully back in place. ‘Cute,’ he murmured.

January turned away. She had been feeling awkward with him all evening. As the four of them had eaten dinner together. As they’d turned the television on later that evening to listen to the weather forecast and heard that the blizzard had now spread over most of the country. The warning had been repeated about not travelling unless it was absolutely necessary, accompanied by several scenes where people hadn’t heeded that warning, showing dozens of vehicles that had had to be abandoned.

The least she could do, January had decided, was to offer to make up Max’s bed for the night.

‘I hope you don’t mind?’ She indicated the bedroom. ‘The only other bed we have available is in the small bedsit we had converted over the garage—and that hasn’t been used since the summer.’ She grimaced.

Max looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘That would be the accommodation used by the help you had staying last summer?’

January gave him a sharp look. How did he—? Of course, she and May had discussed that in front of him earlier today. Although she sensed more than casual interest in Max’s remark…?

‘Yes,’ she confirmed slowly, watching him warily now.

His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you would particularly care whether or not I froze to death over there.’

Of course she cared. Too much, as it happened.

She shrugged. ‘That may be a little difficult to explain to anyone who comes looking for you,’ she returned tartly.

He grimaced. ‘That’s always supposing that someone did.’

January gave a humourless smile. ‘I’m sure Jude Marshall would wonder what had happened to his lawyer!’

Max had once again picked up the photograph of the three sisters, glancing across at her. ‘He just might at that,’ he conceded dryly. ‘You were very young when this photograph was taken.’ He frowned down at the image.

‘About two and a half.’ January nodded, strolling over to look down at the photograph. ‘March was three and a half, May a little over four.’

‘Three peas in a pod,’ Max drawled, referring to what January had said was her father’s description of them. ‘There seems to be someone standing behind you,’ he continued frowningly. ‘There, you see.’ He pointed to the hand resting on May’s left shoulder and another on March’s right, January sandwiched between her two sisters. ‘Your father?’ he prompted interestedly.

She shook her head. ‘My father took the photograph.’

Max looked even more puzzled. ‘Then who—?’

‘My mother,’ she told him abruptly, taking the photograph out of his hand and returning it to its original place on the bedside cabinet.

Max looked at her frowningly. ‘Your mother? But—’

‘Can I get you anything else before I go to bed myself?’ January cut in briskly. ‘A cup of coffee? Something else to eat?’

‘No, thanks,’ he answered slowly, once again looking at the photograph of the three sisters. ‘Isn’t that a little strange?’ he murmured softly. ‘Why would your mother have been cut from the photograph? Surely it must have been one of the last pictures your father had of the four of you together?’

‘Probably, yes,’ January confirmed sharply, not welcoming his questions.

Because she had asked her father the same question once. His answer that the photograph wouldn’t fit into the frame if it wasn’t cut down had seemed very strange, even to an eight-year-old. But the look on her father’s face, almost of bewilderment, had been enough for her never to ask about her mother again.

Max was looking at her searchingly now, his brow clearing as he answered her previous question, ‘I really don’t need anything else, thanks,’ he repeated lightly. ‘And don’t worry, January,’ he added dryly. ‘I promise I’ll be out of your way as soon as the weather breaks.’

‘That’s good,’ she answered distractedly, her expression instantly becoming stricken as she realized exactly what she had said. ‘What I meant—’

‘I know what you meant, January.’ Max laughed softly, moving to stand in front of her, blue eyes gleaming with laughter. ‘You meant exactly what you said!’ He shook his head. ‘And I can’t say I exactly blame you,’ he added ruefully. ‘If I were in your shoes I would feel exactly the same way!’

This wasn’t helping January in her efforts to dislike him! Neither was his close proximity!

But maybe May had been right after all; maybe getting to know them all personally—some more than others, January acknowledged with an inner wince!—was making this as difficult for Max as it was for them? She certainly hoped so!

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she told him distantly as she moved away determinedly.

‘Aren’t you going to tuck me in and give me a good-night kiss?’ Max prompted huskily.

‘No,’ she drawled, turning back to look at him, dark brows raised derisively. ‘I’m not going to offer to read you a bedtime story, either!’

‘Pity,’ he teased, sitting down on the side of the double bed. ‘I would like to come with you tomorrow, by the way,’ he added seriously.

‘Come with me where?’ January was having a little trouble keeping up with the jumps in the conversation.

‘To see Josh, of course,’ he dismissed. ‘You will be going in to see him tomorrow, won’t you?’

‘If the weather breaks,’ she confirmed slowly. ‘Max, are you sure it’s a good idea for you—? What are you doing?’ she gasped as he crossed the room in two strides, his fingers biting into her shoulders as he held her in front of him.

‘January, I will tell you once more—and once more only!’ he warned harshly, shaking her slightly, his eyes glittering darkly. ‘I did not—I repeat, not!—have anything to do with the attack on Josh.’

‘I don’t—Max, you’re hurting me!’ she gasped at the pressure of his fingers against her shoulders.

He scowled darkly. ‘At this moment I would like to very thoroughly beat you,’ he told her gratingly. ‘But as I’ve already assured you I am not a violent man—!’ His mouth came down fiercely on hers.

His kiss was full of the anger he refused to express in any other way, and January met that anger with the tenderness she longed to give him but daredn’t show him in any other way…

It was that tenderness that finally won through, Max groaning low in his throat, his hands cradling each side of her face as he now sipped from the softness of her lips.

Finally he raised his head, his forehead damp against hers as he looked down at her. ‘You are the most extraordinary woman I have ever met,’ he murmured dazedly.

January moistened her lips before answering, ‘I am?’

‘Hmm.’ He nodded, grimacing slightly, obviously not at all happy with the fact. ‘One moment you’re thinking I’m some sort of crazed attacker, and the next you’re kissing me—’

‘Max, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say earlier,’ she said huskily, one hand reaching up to briefly touch the hardness of his suddenly clenched jaw. ‘I was merely going to ask whether, in the circumstances of your connection to the Marshall Corporation, it was wise for you to come with me to visit Josh. Whether you should become any more involved with my family,’ she explained softly as he still frowned.

‘I think your warning is probably a little late,’ he acknowledged self-derisively. ‘And I have every intention of going to see Josh. Maybe he got a look at the person who attacked him. Maybe—’

‘Max, I’m sure the police are perfectly capable of dealing with that,’ January cut in pointedly. ‘After all, you’re a lawyer, not a policeman,’ she reasoned lightly.

He shook his head. ‘There’s something wrong with this attack on Josh. Something other than the fact that it was a man this time rather than a woman,’ he added wryly at January’s knowing look.

‘Max—’ She broke off as a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

Obviously one of her sisters. Probably wondering why it was taking her so long to make up the bed!

She gave Max a rueful grimace as she moved out of his arms. ‘Come in,’ she invited dryly, giving her eldest sister a knowing look as she opened the door. ‘I was just making sure Max has everything he needs for the night,’ she told May teasingly.

May’s green gaze flickered reprovingly over Max before moving back to January. ‘And does he?’

‘As much as an unexpected guest can expect.’ Max was the one to answer derisively.

May returned his gaze unblinkingly. ‘If you want them, you will find some laundered pyjamas in the top drawer of the dresser.’

‘I always sleep in the nude, but thanks anyway,’ Max returned tauntingly.

May gave a tight smile. ‘You might find the farmhouse a little cooler than you’re used to.’

‘Not so far,’ he came back, dark brows raised challengingly.

‘May, I think we’ll leave Max to get settled for the night,’ January cut in determinedly, having decided this verbal battle of wills had gone on long enough.

‘We’re usually all up by about six o’clock,’ May told Max pointedly.

He nodded, blue eyes dancing with merriment. ‘A cup of tea in bed about then will be very welcome!’

May gave a snort of dismissal. ‘Guest or not, if we don’t have that luxury, then neither do you!’

He shrugged. ‘I would be quite happy to bring you all a cup of tea in bed.’

May’s gaze narrowed. ‘I’ll just bet you would—’

‘He’s winding you up, May,’ January cut in once again, shaking her head reprovingly at Max even as she chuckled softly. ‘But if you should get the urge to make an early cup of tea, Max, we all take ours without sugar!’ she added even as she pushed her sister towards the door. ‘You were the one who invited him here in the first place,’ she reminded May lightly once they were outside the bedroom, the door safely closed behind them.

‘I may have done,’ May snapped. ‘But I told you why that was. I certainly didn’t think he had the nerve to try to seduce my little sister right under my nose!’ she added indignantly.

‘Your little sister is twenty-five years old,’ January reminded her dryly. ‘And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.’

May shook her head. ‘Not where Max Golding is concerned, I’ve just realized,’ she said slowly. ‘January, are you serious—?’

‘Could we leave this for tonight, May?’ she cut infirmly, her earlier humour having completely disappeared. ‘I’m really not in the mood to discuss Max any more tonight,’ she added heavily.

May looked at her searchingly for several long minutes, before slowly nodding her head. ‘Okay,’ she agreed huskily. ‘But just—never mind.’ She shook her head, smiling. ‘Everything will look different in the morning,’ she added brightly.

January was glad her sister had said different, and not better. Because somehow January doubted it would be that. In the morning she would still be in love with Max. And that couldn’t be good. For any of them.

Considering he had doubted that he would sleep at all, with January so close and yet so unattainable, Max found he had slept for almost eight hours, a glance at his wrist-watch telling him it was almost seven o’clock.

Way past time for taking January—or anyone else!—a cup of tea in bed!

He smiled as he imagined May’s indignation if he had arrived in the sisters’ bedrooms with the suggested morning tea. Whatever had prompted the eldest Calendar sister to invite him to dinner last night, May had definitely changed her mind about the wisdom of that invitation by the time she’d come looking for January in this bedroom later in the evening.

Wisely so, Max acknowledged with a self-derisive grimace.

No matter what he did, how hard he tried to keep a distance between himself and January, to concentrate on the business side of their relationship rather than the personal, he invariably ended up kissing her instead!

Maybe—

He heard a door slam downstairs, followed by muffled noises outside, evidence that the sisters were indeed up and about. And May, at least, was no doubt frowning disapprovingly about his own tardiness in getting up!

She was also right about the coldness of the farmhouse, he discovered a few minutes later as he hurriedly dresse d before going to the bathroom across the hall, the tiles in there ultra cold on his sock-covered feet.

And the most he had to compare this cold discomfort with was the times he went skiing, when he spent his evenings and nights in a wonderfully warm ski lodge, his days wrapped up warmly as he skied the slopes. Hardly any comparison at all!

You’re getting soft, Golding, he told himself disgustedly, at the same time acknowledging that he was ill-equipped to survive in conditions like these. Which also made him wonder why on earth the Calendar sisters would want to…!

Only May and March were in evidence when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, this room much warmer than the rest of the house, Max realized thankfully.

‘Coffee?’ March offered abruptly as she held up the steaming pot invitingly.

‘Thanks.’ He nodded distractedly, aware of May’s brooding silence as she sat at the kitchen table drinking her own warm brew, studiously ignoring him, it seemed.

‘Help yourself to milk and sugar,’ March told him dismissively as she placed a mug of coffee on the table for him. ‘In case you’re wondering, January is over in the shed dealing with early milking,’ she added dryly.

Was he really that obvious? Max wondered with a scowl. Probably, he conceded heavily. To January’s sisters, at least…

‘Now that we’ve cleared the drifts away from the doors and a path over to the shed,’ May put in pointedly.

While he lingered in his bed trying to build up the courage to get out of the warmth of the bedclothes into the cold of the room, May implied, but didn’t actually say.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ he offered—and as quickly realized how ridiculous he sounded; what on earth did he know about any of the workings of a farm?

March obviously found the offer just as ridiculous, giving a wry smile. ‘Stay out of everyone’s way?’ she suggested scathingly.

Feeling inadequate did not sit easily on Max’s shoulders; having it pointed out to him by the more outspoken of the Calendar sisters only made it worse!

He stood up noisily. ‘I think I’ll just go over anyway and see if there’s anything I can do for January.’

May sat back, looking at him derisively. ‘I think you’ve already done enough for her, don’t you?’ she murmured enigmatically.

Max’s gaze narrowed on her speculatively as he pulled on his heavy jacket. Obviously whatever headway he had made with May yesterday had been completely voided by having January linger in the bedroom with him last night, May definitely back to her old protective self.

Family disapproval was also something Max had never encountered before—mainly because he had never so much as suggested meeting any of the family of the women he had been involved with over the years!

God, he really had to get out of here. And not just the farmhouse, either!

Which may prove a little difficult, he discovered on opening the door; May really hadn’t been joking about the snowdrifts! They were as high as four feet along the side of the shed and the hedgerow of the track up here to the house.

‘Our uncle—Sara’s father—is going to come up from the road and clear it later this morning,’ March assured him with a mocking grin—obviously having enjoyed the look of dismay on his face for several minutes first.