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The Tycoon's Mistress: His Cinderella Mistress - Кэрол Мортимер - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
The Tycoon's Mistress: His Cinderella Mistress - Кэрол Мортимер - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Мортимер Кэрол
The Tycoon's Mistress: His Cinderella Mistress
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CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WHAT do you want?’ January gasped, having opened the farmhouse door to find Max standing on the doorstep beside her muddy boots.
It was barely thirty-six hours since she had last seen this man, the memory of Sunday evening not even having begun to fade from her mind—in fact, she doubted it ever would. Although she was certainly going to try to erase it!
She certainly didn’t welcome the fact that Max had turned up at the farm when she was alone, March out at work, May having an appointment in town.
‘I asked what you want,’ she repeated hardly as Max made no effort to answer her, just standing on the doorstep staring at her, his face grim, a guarded look in those deep blue eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ he finally murmured harshly.
January gave him a scathing look. ‘Why shouldn’t I be okay?’ she scorned derisively.
Surely he didn’t think she would still be visibly upset about Sunday evening? If he did, he was going to be sadly disappointed! She had made a mistake, had totally humiliated herself as far as she was concerned, but there was no way she was going to let anyone see that. Certainly not Max. She had more pride than that.
Max thrust his hands into his denims pockets, the grimness of his expression not having eased in the slightest. ‘It was on the television, on the local news, that there was another attack late last night,’ he bit out tautly.
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t heard anything about that. But then, she didn’t have time to watch television in the day, and it was too early for March to have returned from work with any local gossip.
‘And?’ she prompted hardly.
He swallowed hard, grimacing. ‘They are being particularly cagey about this one, not giving out any names, or other details, just that the latest victim had been badly beaten but was recovering in hospital.’
January glared her impatience. ‘And?’ Really, why didn’t he just say what he had come here to say—and then leave? ‘I’m really sorry there’s been another attack, hope that the woman will be okay, but if you’ve come here to discuss buying the farm—’
‘I haven’t come here for that!’ he cut in harshly, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw.
She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he snapped frustratedly.
Not to her, no. He had made it clear on Sunday evening—painfully clear, she recalled with an inner wince—that other than wanting to buy the farm he had no personal interest in her than as a possible casual bed-partner. A role she had made clear was completely unacceptable to her.
‘I’m afraid not.’ She gave a puzzled shake of her head.
Max gave a sigh of impatience. ‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I said?’
She gave a humourless smile. ‘When usually most people hang on your every word?’
He scowled darkly. ‘January, I’m more than aware of your opinion of me—’
‘I doubt that very much!’ she scorned; he couldn’t possibly know how angry she still was. With him. But more so with herself.
She had been so careful after the mistake she had made the previous year, been friendly but distant to any man who might have shown an interest in her, hadn’t even been out on a date since Ben had let her down so badly—only to end up making a complete idiot of herself over a man who was ten times more dangerous—to her heart!—than Ben had ever been!
Max gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Oh, I think I am. But I heard that radio announcement and I—Where are March and May?’
‘March is at work and May is at the dentist,’ she dismissed.
He nodded grimly at this explanation for her sisters’ absence.
‘Obviously I made a mistake,’ he dismissed hardly, preparing to leave.
January looked at him frowningly as he began to walk back to his car. He was arrogant. Hateful. Had hurt her pretty badly on Sunday evening. But the things he had said just now… Could he possibly—? Had he come here because—?
‘Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?’ she heard herself offer abruptly.
Max turned slowly back to look at her, his expression once again wary. ‘In the circumstances, that’s very kind of you,’ he finally murmured slowly.
She gave a shrug. ‘Didn’t you know—? I’m a kind person!’ she attempted to dismiss lightly.
Whereas, in reality, she had no idea why she had offered him a cup of coffee. It certainly wasn’t because she wanted to spend any time in his company; she usually came off worst in any encounter the two of them had, verbal or otherwise!
Then why had she made the offer? Perhaps because she suspected, from the things Max had said, that he had come here because he had thought it was either her, or one of her sisters, who had been attacked the previous night. And if that were the case…
‘The offer is only open for another ten seconds, Max,’ she told him derisively. ‘My toes are starting to freeze standing here!’ she added with a rueful glance down at her feet.
Max looked down, too, the frown clearing from his brow. ‘You really were serious about the bare feet, weren’t you?’ he murmured incredulously as he followed her into the kitchen, closing the door—and the extreme cold—behind him.
January glanced back from placing the kettle on the Aga. ‘I don’t tell lies, either, Max,’ she told him huskily.
And then wished she hadn’t. Whether her suspicion as to why he had come here was correct or not, she would rather not think of any of their previous conversations. Or anything else!
‘If you must know, my feet are bare because I was just on my way to my bedroom for a pair of dry socks when you knocked on the door; I was coming back from the barn when I slipped and fell into a snowdrift. The snow went in my boots,’ she explained abruptly.
Max raised dark brows. ‘Are you always this accident prone? First a ditch and now a snowdrift,’ he added mockingly.
‘Hmm.’ She grimaced. ‘I do seem to have bumped into more than my fair share of immovable objects just recently, don’t I?’ she dismissed self-derisively.
Max being the prime one!
Something that he seemed all too aware of as his mouth tightened. ‘January—’
‘Sit down, Max,’ she invited with a general wave in the direction of the kitchen table and chairs. ‘Coffee is almost ready.’ She turned back to the task in hand, deliberately keeping herself busy for the next few minutes, although she was very aware of Max as he sat at the table watching her every move.
Why had he come here today? Was it really, as she suspected, because he had been concerned that one of the sisters might have been the Night Striker’s latest victim? But if that were the reason, wouldn’t that have to mean that he actually cared—?
‘Did May tell you that she came to see me on Sunday evening?’
‘Yes, she told me,’ January confirmed lightly, picking up the two mugs of coffee before strolling over to place one of them in front of Max and sitting down opposite him. ‘Help yourself to sugar.’ She indicated the bowl that stood in the middle of the table. ‘Since our mother died, May has been the family champion, I’m afraid.’ The lightness of her tone totally belied the fact that she had been furious with May when she’d returned on Sunday evening and admitted where she had been.
Max gave a humourless smile. ‘She certai nly did a good job of warning me off you!’
‘A little too late, obviously.’ She nodded, staring down at her steaming mug of coffee.
May had been protecting March and January for as long as the two of them could remember, the two younger sisters, as they’d got older, often finding this fierce protectiveness irksome to say the least. January had been so furious at May’s uninvited intervention on her behalf on Sunday evening that the two sisters had only just started speaking to each other again.
Although, to give Max his due, he obviously hadn’t told her sister what had happened between the two of them a couple of hours before May’s arrival at the hotel.
‘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 fro m 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 selfconsciously as she came back into the kitchen and found her sist er 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 confus ion. ‘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!
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