Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | His Cinderella Mistress

His Cinderella Mistress
Carole Mortimer
Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites - and find new ones! - in this fabulous collection…His by midnight…?It’s handsome corporate lawyer Max Golding’s job to buy up the Calendar’s family farmland. And to do so he plans to charm the pants off one the Calendar sisters—literally! Yet what Max doesn’t realise is that the beautiful woman he’s started dating is actually January Calendar! Max is enchanted by her fire and surprised by his desire for her. But when it becomes clear that January is in severe danger, Max must race to save her before he loses his Cinderella for good…




They’ve got a date—at the altar!
International bestselling author Carole Mortimer has written more than 115 books, and now Mills & Boon
is proud to unveil her sensational new CALENDAR BRIDES trilogy.
Meet the Calendar sisters:
January—is she too proud to become a wife?
March—can any man tame this free spirit?
May—will she meet her match?
These women are beautiful, proud and spirited—and now they have three rich, powerful and incredibly sexy tycoons ready to claim them as their brides!

His Cinderella Mistress
Carole Mortimer



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
Cover (#ua1f1b58c-84fe-5a0f-b75a-d550f4f84a14)
Title Page (#ub0903785-98d3-5e81-b4c2-4c110e0f4069)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u7bd48c91-1f07-55bd-b043-cb4bc0f1ad83)
‘WOULD you allow me to buy you a drink?’
Sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of sparkling water, taking a well-earned rest after an hour of singing, January turned to politely refuse the offer. Only to have that refusal stick in her throat as she saw who it was doing the offering.
It was him!
The man who had been seated at the back of this hotel bar for the last hour as she sat at the piano and sang. The man who had stared at her for all of that time with an intensity that had made it impossible for her not to have noticed him in return.
She should refuse his offer, had learnt to keep a certain polite distance between herself and the guests who stayed at this prestigious hotel, transient people for the most part, here for a few days, never to be seen again.
Remember what happened on the farm last year, her sister May would have told her. January did remember—only too well!
Remember what you told me—afterwards, her sister March would have said; taking people at face value only brings trouble!
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ January accepted huskily.
The man gave an inclination of his dark head, ordering a bottle of champagne from John, the barman, before standing back to allow her to precede him to his table in the corner of the luxuriously comfortable room, made even more so at the moment because, although Christmas had come and gone, the decorations wouldn’t be taken down for several more days yet.
January was aware of several curious glances coming their way as they walked by the crowded tables, could see their reflection in one of the mirrors along the walls. She, tall and willowy in the long black spangly dress she wore to perform in, her dark hair cascading down over her shoulders, eyes a mysterious dark smoky grey, fringed by sooty black lashes. The man walking so confidently behind her, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome in the black dinner suit and snowy white shirt he wore, his eyes a deep, unfathomable cobalt-blue.
It was those eyes, so intense and compelling, that had drawn her attention to him an hour ago, shortly after she began her first session of the evening. Those same eyes that even now, she could see in the mirror, were watching the gentle sway of her hips as she walked.
He stood to one side as January sank gracefully into one of the four armchairs placed around the low table, waiting until she was seated before lowering his considerable height into the chair opposite hers, that intense gaze having remained on her for the whole of that time.
‘Champagne?’ January prompted throatily a few minutes later—when it became apparent he wasn’t going to make any effort to begin a conversation, seeming quite happy to just stare at her.
He gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘It is New Year’s Eve, after all,’ he came back softly.
End of conversation, January realized a few seconds later when he added nothing further to that brief comment, beginning to wish she had listened to those little voices of her sisters’ earlier inside her head.
‘So it is,’ she answered dismissively, smiling up at John as he arrived with two glasses and the ice-bucket containing the bottle of champagne, deftly opening it before her anonymous companion nodded his thanks—and his obvious dismissal.
John turned to leave, but not before he had given January a speculative raise of his eyebrows.
Well aware that she always kept herself slightly aloof from the guests staying at the hotel, John was obviously curious as to why this man should be so different. Join the club!
‘January.’ She turned back to the man determinedly.
He gave the semblance of a smile as he leant forward to pour the two glasses of champagne himself, competently, assuredly, not a single drop of the bubbly liquid reaching the top of the glass to spill over. ‘That’s what usually follows December,’ he drawled dismissively.
‘No, you misunderstood me.’ She shook her head, smiling. ‘My name is January.’
‘Ah.’ The smile deepened, showing even white teeth against his tanned skin. ‘Max,’ he supplied as economically.
Not exactly a scintillating conversationalist, she decided, studying him over the rim of her champagne glass. The strong, silent type, maybe, the sort of man who only spoke when he had something significant to say.
‘Short for Maximillian?’ she asked lightly.
His smile faded, leaving his face looking slightly grim. ‘Short for Maxim. My mother was a great reader, I believe,’ he added scornfully.
Her eyes widened at his tone. ‘Don’t you know?’
His gaze narrowed. ‘No.’
Obviously not a subject to be pursued!
‘And are you in the area on business, Max?’ she prompted curiously; after all, it was New Year’s Eve, a time when most people would be with family or friends.
‘Something like that.’ He nodded tersely. ‘Do you work at the hotel every night, or just New Year’s Eve?’
She found herself frowning slightly, unsure whether he had meant the question to sound insulting—as it did!—or whether it was just his usual abruptness of manner.
She shrugged, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt—for the moment. ‘I work here most Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings,’ she added the last pointedly.
‘And as this is a Friday—’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘Look, I’m afraid I have to go back on in a few minutes,’ she added with a certain amount of relief; this man was more than a little hard going!
He nodded. ‘I’ll wait for you at the end of the evening.’ He had so far made no effort to drink any of his own champagne, merely continued to look at January with that almost blinkless stare.
Which was just as unnerving close up as it had been from the distance for the last hour while she sang!
She had accepted his invitation on impulse—curiosity?—and now she was regretting it. Okay, so his brooding stillness made Heathcliff and Mr Rochester, two of her favourite romantic heroes, seem almost chatty by comparison, but it was also extremely uncomfortable to be stared at in this single-minded fashion.
She gave a brief shake of her head. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’ She smiled to take some of the bluntness out of her own words; after all, he was a guest at the hotel, and she just another person employed here. ‘Usually I finish about one-thirty, two o’clock, depending on how busy we are, but as tonight is New Year’s Eve I’m here until three o’clock.’
And by the time she had driven home it would be almost four o’clock, by which time she would be physically shattered but mentally unable to relax, which meant she would stay up until her sisters woke shortly before six. Not an ideal arrangement by any means, but she knew she was lucky to have found this job so close to home at all, so beggars couldn’t be choosers.
‘I’ll still wait,’ Max answered her evenly.
A perplexed frown furrowed her brow; this was exactly the reason she had always kept a polite, if friendly, distance between herself and the male guests staying at the hotel. What had prompted her to make an exception in this man’s case…?
She felt a shiver run down the length of her spine—of pleasure or apprehension?—as that deep blue gaze moved slowly down over the bareness of her shoulders in the strapless dress, the gentle swell of her breasts, the slenderness of her waist. Almost as if those long, artistically elegant hands had actually touched and caressed her!
‘I’ll wait,’ he repeated softly. ‘After all, what’s a few more hours…?’ he added enigmatically.
Very reassuring—she didn’t think! In fact, there was a decidedly unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, accompanied by mental flashes of those recent newspaper articles about lone women being attacked in this area late at night.
Not that this obviously wealthy and assured man gave the impression of being in the category of the Night Striker—as the more lurid tabloids had dubbed him—but then, what did an attacker actually look like? The other man probably appeared perfectly normal during the day, too—it was only at night that he turned into a monster! She didn’t—
‘Tell me, January—’ Max sat forward intently now, that dark blue gaze once again unfathomable as he looked at her face ‘—do you believe in love at first sight?’
The hand holding her champagne glass shook slightly at the unexpectedness of his question, her movements carefully deliberate as she placed the glass down on the table in front of her.
What had happened to the social pleasantries? The ‘hello, how are you?’ The ‘do you have any family?’ The ‘when you aren’t singing what do you like to do?’ How did you go straight from ‘how often do you work at the hotel?’ to ‘do you believe in love at first sight?’ The obvious answer to that was—you didn’t!
January’s features softened into gentle mockery. ‘In a word—no,’ she dismissed derisively. ‘Lust at first sight—maybe. But love? Impossible, don’t you think?’ she scorned softly.
He didn’t so much as blink at her mocking reply. ‘I was asking you,’ he reminded softly.
‘And I said no.’ She was beginning to feel slightly rattled by this man’s sheer force of will. ‘How can you possibly fall in love with someone without even knowing them? What happens when you discover all those annoying little habits that weren’t apparent at first sight?’ she attempted to lighten the conversation. ‘Like not squeezing the toothpaste from the bottom of the tube? Like reading the newspaper first and leaving it in a mess? Like walking around barefoot whenever possible? Like—’
‘I get the picture, January,’ he cut in dryly, something like warmth lightening the intense blue of his eyes. ‘Are you telling me that you do all those things?’
Was she? Well…yes. And the toothpaste thing annoyed March to the point of screaming. And May was always complaining about what a mess she made when she read the newspaper. As for walking about barefoot—that was something she had done since she was a very small child; it was also something that was totally impractical when you lived in a working farmhouse. Once she had stepped on a plank of wood and ended up with a nail stuck in her foot, followed by a trip to the hospital for a tetanus injection, and another time she had stepped on a hot coal that had fallen out of the fire, again followed by a trip to the local hospital.
‘I’ve been assured that love is supposed to nullify things like that,’ Max continued dryly at her lack of reply. ‘After all, no one is one-hundred-per-cent perfect.’
She had a feeling that this man might be, had a definite intuition that he would never squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle, or leave the newspaper in a mess, and as for walking about barefoot—! No, this man gave the impression that everything he did was deliberate, carefully thought through, without fault. But perhaps that was a fault in itself…?
Although why she was even giving his question any serious thought she had no idea; it was simply ridiculous to suggest you could fall in love with the way someone looked!
‘It may do, Max—but it doesn’t stop hundreds of couples arriving in the divorce courts every year claiming incompatibility because of “unreasonable behaviour” by one or other partner,’ she derided.
He smiled, his gaze definitely warmer now. ‘I don’t think they’re referring to how you do or do not squeeze a tube of toothpaste,’ he drawled.
‘Probably not.’ She shrugged. ‘But I believe I’ve adequately answered your initial question.’ Although why he had asked it at all was beyond her.
Next time she had an impulse like this, she would ignore it—no matter how handsomely intriguing the man was!
‘More than adequately,’ he confirmed derisively. ‘And I have to say, January, it’s very unusual to meet a woman with such an honest view to what everyone else chooses to romantically call love.’
January eyed him warily; she didn’t think she had actually said that was the way she felt towards falling in love! ‘It is?’
‘It is,’ he confirmed softly. ‘But—’
‘January, I’m really sorry to interrupt.’ John, the barman, appeared beside their table.
‘Not at all.’ She turned to him with a certain amount of relief. ‘Is it time for me to go back on?’ she asked hopefully; she really had had enough of this conversation. And Max…
John grimaced. ‘I just thought I should let you know Meridew is on the prowl again,’ he warned, referring to the over-efficient manager of the hotel who had just strolled into the lounge bar, his gaze sweeping critically over the room.
Strictly speaking January wasn’t exactly a member of the hotel staff, but that didn’t stop Peter Meridew, the hotel manager, having his say if he was displeased about something. January had never tested him before on having a drink with one of the hotel guests, but perhaps that came under the heading of ‘displeasing’ him? Whatever, January needed this job too much to risk losing it over a man she would never see again after this evening.
‘Thanks, John.’ She smiled up at him before turning back to Max. ‘I really do have to go.’ She managed to keep her voice evenly unemotional as she prepared to leave.
Max’s gaze narrowed. ‘Would you like me to have a word with him?’
‘Who—? Certainly not,’ she protested frowningly as she saw he was now looking at the hotel manager. Although no doubt a word in Peter’s ear from this assuredly arrogant man would ensure that no word was ever mentioned to her about sitting down to have a drink with him! ‘It’s time for me to go back on, anyway,’ she dismissed lightly.
Max nodded. ‘I’ll be waiting here when you’ve finished.’
January opened her mouth to protest for a third time, and then thought better of it; what was the point? Besides, she was quite capable of slipping quietly away at the end of the evening without this man even being aware she had done so…
She stood up. ‘Thank you for the champagne.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He nodded.
January was aware of him once again watching her as she crossed the room to the piano, knowing he would see a tall, beautiful brunette in a sexy black dress. But that was all he would see—because he knew nothing else about her but her name.
Max should see her at half-past six tomorrow morning, up to her wellington-booted ankles in mud, as she trekked through the farmyard to the cow shed for early milking!

What on earth did he think he was doing? Max remonstrated with himself with an inward groan.
Was he trying to frighten the woman away before he even had chance to get to know her? Or—more importantly!—her him? If he was, he was certainly succeeding!
He hadn’t wanted to come on this particular business trip at all, would have been quite happy to stay where he was until after the New Year, had been enjoying the mild, if unsuccessful, flirtation with the actress April Robine, a woman at least ten years older than his own thirty-seven, but looking at least twenty years younger than her actual age.
But it had been pointed out to him quite strongly, by his friend and employer, that these negotiations needed to be settled as quickly as possible, and it was his job, after all. Never mind the fact that Jude was as interested in April Robine as he was—and probably with more success, if he knew Jude. Which he did. Only too well.
How could Max possibly have known that a chance drink in the piano-bar of the hotel he was staying in would completely erase April, and every other woman he had ever known, from his mind, would result in his seeing the one woman he knew he had to have for his own?
Well…for a time, anyway; if he was honest with himself there wasn’t a woman in the world he wanted permanently in his life. No matter how beautiful. And January was incredibly beautiful.
She was perfect, from the top of her ebony head to the soles of her delicate feet in those ridiculously strappy sandals she was wearing.
So perfect that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her the whole time he had been sitting here. So perfect that he had been uncharacteristically tongue-tied in her company. Except when he had asked her if she believed in love at first sight…
And been totally stunned—if pleasantly surprised!—by the honesty of the answer she had given him.
But, then, he had been stunned in one way or another since the moment he’d first looked at her, felt as if he had been punched in the stomach then, felt completely poleaxed now that he had actually spoken to her, her voice huskily sexy, her face even more beautiful close to, and as for her body…!
Perhaps he had better not dwell on the wonder of her willowy body just now; after all, it wasn’t even midnight yet, which meant there were at least another three hours or so before he could take her out of here.
They were the longest three hours of his life, Max decided as he waited impatiently for January to play her final song. He hadn’t even been able to get close to her when the clocks had struck midnight, had been forced to watch from afar as she’d made the countdown and had then been surrounded by well-wishers. Most of them male, he had noted with dark disapproval. All of whom he had wanted to punch on the nose as they’d claimed a New Year kiss from her.
The hotel manager had claimed her attention during her next break, the two of them talking comfortably together until it had been time for January to go back on. While Max had sat frustratedly at his table just willing her to look in his direction. Which she hadn’t.
Deliberately so? After the way he had come on so strongly earlier, he wouldn’t be in the least surprised!
How Jude, his longtime friend and boss, would have laughed if he could see him now! Or, more likely, having seen her, Jude would have made a play for January himself…
Now there was a thought he would rather not have had!
Ordinarily it wouldn’t have bothered him if Jude was interested in the same woman he was, but he already knew January was different; it would certainly test his long-term friendship with Jude if he were to make any sort of move on her!
When at last she had finished January looked extremely tired, he noted frowningly as he stood up to join her. Not that he was in the least tired himself; jet lag had ensured that he slept this afternoon and now felt wide awake.
‘Where are you going?’ he prompted as she turned away without looking up.
Smoky grey eyes looked up at him guardedly beneath sooty lashes. ‘Home?’ she suggested ruefully.
She really did look very tired, Max noted with a frown, dark shadows beneath those incredibly beautiful grey eyes, a weariness to her shoulders too now that she was no longer on public display, the hotel guests and New Year’s Eve visitors making their way noisily from the bar.
‘I said I would wait for you,’ he reminded huskily.
She frowned, seeming on the point of protest, one look at his obvious expression of determination making her shrug defeatedly instead. ‘I just have to go and collect my coat and bag,’ she told him lightly.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Max told her firmly; having found her, he wasn’t about to let her escape him now.
Those dark brows rose mockingly. ‘To the women’s staff room?’
He grimaced. ‘I’ll wait outside.’
A look of irritation flickered briefly across her creamy brow at his obvious persistence. ‘Fine,’ she finally acknowledged tersely. ‘Give me a few minutes,’ she added lightly before going into the room clearly marked ‘Staff Only’.
He wasn’t quite sure he could wait much longer to be alone with her. Patience had never been one of his virtues, even less so now it seemed.
But as the minutes passed with no sign of her return it appeared he didn’t have much choice in the matter. Where the hell was she?
‘Can I be of any assistance?’ the manager—Peter Meridew?—paused to enquire politely.
Max turned to him scowlingly, the memory of how this man had monopolized January’s company during her next—and only—break, still fresh in his mind. ‘Is there another way out of this room?’ he prompted hardly, more convinced than ever as the minutes passed that she had somehow managed to elude him.
The other man glanced at the door, his brows raised in surprise as he turned back to Max. ‘Why, yes, there is,’ he answered slowly, obviously perplexed by a guest’s interest in what was clearly marked as a staff only room. ‘It opens out into the adjacent corridor, but— Is there anything I can do to help?’ the manager prompted at Max’s fierce scowl.
‘Not unless your name is January,’ Max muttered impatiently. ‘Which it clearly isn’t!’ he added frustratedly.
Damn it, she had got away, he was sure of it, knew she had deliberately gone out of this staff room through another door.
Why was he so surprised? a little voice taunted inside his head; he had come onto her so strongly earlier that he must have sounded like a bored businessman just looking for a female to share his bed for the night!
And wasn’t that exactly what he was?
No, it wasn’t, damn it! He already knew that one night with January simply wouldn’t be enough. And given a little more time in her company, he might have been able to convince her of that.
Don’t be too sure of that, that little voice taunted again.
‘I’m sorry?’ The manager looked more confused than ever at Max’s mutterings. ‘Is January a friend of yours?’ the other man prompted tightly.
Max drew in a deep, controlling breath, aware that January had left his table earlier as soon as she had been informed of the manager’s presence in the room. After all, what was the saying, ‘tomorrow is another day’…? And as, in this case, tomorrow was a Saturday, Max at least knew where she was going to be tomorrow evening…
‘Not yet,’ he answered the manager enigmatically. ‘By the way—’ he turned his full attention on the other man now, his smile at its most charming ‘—I would like to compliment you on the smooth and efficient running of your hotel. I travel all over the world on business, and this is definitely of a world-class standard.’
The other man visibly preened at this effusive praise—as he was meant to do; the last thing Max wanted to do was make things difficult for January at her place of work. With any luck, Max’s words of praise would override any of this man’s previous curiosity as to Max’s interest in January.
‘It’s very kind of you to say so.’ The other man beamed.
‘Not at all,’ Max continued lightly. ‘It’s refreshing to stay at such an obviously well-managed hotel.’ Too effusive? Not if the other man’s flush of pleasure was anything to go by.
‘If you require any assistance during the remainder of your stay, please don’t hesitate to call on me personally,’ Peter Meridew told him in parting.
Well, there was one happy man, at least, Max acknowledged ruefully as he watched the other man’s retreating back.
Wishing that he could feel the same, Max sobered heavily, his earlier annoyance at what he was sure were January’s evasive tactics returning with a vengeance.
But if she thought she would succeed in avoiding him for ever, she was in for a surprise.
A big surprise!

CHAPTER TWO (#u7bd48c91-1f07-55bd-b043-cb4bc0f1ad83)
‘MAY, what on earth is wrong with you today?’ January frowned concernedly at her eldest sister, May having dropped one of the plates as the three of them stood up to clear away after eating their dinner.
May had been banging the pots and pans around serving the meal when January had come downstairs earlier, had been very quiet during dinner, only adding the odd grunt to the conversation between January and March as the three of them had eaten.
The three sisters—May, twenty-seven; March, twenty-six, and January, twenty-five—were very alike to look at, all tall and dark-haired, with a creamy magnolia skin—although that tended to colour to a healthy tan during the summer months. Only their eyes were different, May’s green, March’s a mixture of green and grey, and January’s smoky grey.
But May, being the eldest, had always been the calm, unruffled one, able to deal with any emergency. Something she certainly didn’t seem to be doing this evening!
‘Still tired from doing the pantomime?’ January sympathized.
Completely absorbed in the farm most of the time, May had found an outlet from that several years ago by joining the local drama group. They had put on the pantomime Aladdin in the small local theatre over the Christmas period, with May being given the leading role, traditionally played by a female. It had been tiring but fun, but had necessitated May being involved in evening and matinée performances over several days, as well as working on the farm.
‘If only it were that…’ May looked up now from picking up the pieces of broken plate. ‘We had a visitor today,’ she stated flatly.
January instantly stiffened, wary of whom that ‘visitor’ might have been; she might have escaped from the intense Max the night before, but she doubted he was a man who cared to be fobbed off by anyone. Quite how he might have found out where she lived, she had no idea, but she doubted even that was beyond him…
May’s green eyes swam with unshed tears as she straightened. ‘You remember that letter we had before Christmas? The one from that lawyer on behalf of some big American corporation? About buying the farm,’ she prompted as both March and January looked blank.
‘Of course we remember it. Damned cheek!’ March scorned as she grabbed some kitchen towel to wipe up the mess from the plate that had landed on the stone floor. ‘If we were interested in selling then we would have put the farm on the market.’ She threw the soiled towel deftly into the bin.
‘Yes,’ May sighed, sitting down heavily in a kitchen chair. ‘Well, the lawyer came in person to see us today. Or rather me, as I was the only one available at the time.’ She grimaced.
January, as was her usual routine on the nights she was working, had been in bed most of the day, and March had been out making the most of the New Year’s Day public holiday as she had a job she went to from nine till five Monday to Saturdays usually. May was the only sister who worked full-time on their small hillside farm, who also did most of the cooking and cleaning, too. It wasn’t the most ideal arrangement, meant that they all effectively had two jobs, but the farm just wasn’t big enough to support all three sisters without the additional financial help of January’s and March’s outside employment.
Their visitor obviously hadn’t been the intense Max, but January wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this particular visitor, either.
‘I thought it was all just some sort of joke.’ January frowned now as she could see just how upset her eldest sister was.
May gave a humourless laugh. ‘This lawyer didn’t seem to think so,’ she muttered. ‘In fact, he went so far as to offer an absolutely ridiculous price for the farm.’ She scowled as she quoted the price.
January gasped, March swallowed hard; all of them knew that the farm wasn’t worth anywhere near as much as the offer being made. Which posed the question, why was this lawyer offering so much for what was, after all, only forty acres of land, a few outbuildings, and a far from modern farmhouse?
‘What’s the catch?’ March prompted shrewdly.
‘Apart from immediate vacancy, there didn’t seem to be one,’ May answered slowly.
‘Apart from—! But we were all born here,’ January protested incredulously.
‘This is our home!’ March said at the same time.
May gave the semblance of a smile. ‘I told him that. He didn’t seem impressed.’ She shrugged.
‘Probably because he lives in some exclusive penthouse apartment somewhere,’ March muttered disgruntledly. ‘He wouldn’t recognize a “home” if he were invited into one. You didn’t invite him in, I hope?’ she said sharply.
May gave a firm shake of her head. ‘I was outside loading hay onto the trailer for feeding when he arrived. Once he had introduced himself, and his reason for being here, I made sure we stayed outside in the yard. His tailor-made suit certainly wasn’t suitable for visiting a hillside farm in January, and he got his highly polished handmade shoes all muddy, too,’ she added dryly.
January laughed at her elder sister’s look of satisfaction. ‘And you sent him away with a flea in his ear, I hope!’
‘Mmm.’ May nodded, that frown back between clear green eyes. ‘But I have a distinct feeling he’ll be back.’
‘What’s it all about, do you think?’ January frowned her own concern.
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ March answered dismissively. ‘The same corporation this lawyer represents bought the Hanworth estate a couple of months ago for development of some kind. And with our farm smack in the middle of the Hanworth land…’ She shrugged. ‘I expect we’re rather in the way.’
James Hanworth, the local equivalent of ‘squire’ the last fifty-five years, had died six months ago, leaving no wife or children to inherit his vast estate, just half a dozen distant relatives who had obviously decided to sell the place and divide the profits.
‘Why didn’t you tell us that before?’ May turned to March impatiently. ‘No wonder they’re trying to buy us out!’ she added disgustedly.
Yes, no wonder, January mentally agreed. But this farm had first belonged to her grandparents, and then her parents, and now the three sisters, and, although it was sometimes a struggle to financially survive, selling it wasn’t something any of them had ever considered. It was the only home they had ever known…
She gave a glance at her wrist-watch. ‘Look, I have to get ready for work now, but we’ll talk about this further over breakfast in the morning, okay?’
‘Okay,’ May nodded ruefully.
January reached out to give her sister’s arm a comforting squeeze. ‘No one can make us sell if we don’t want to.’
‘No,’ her eldest sister sighed. ‘But, stuck in the middle like this, they could make life very difficult for us if they choose to.’
‘Depends what sort of development they’re thinking of having,’ March put in thoughtfully. ‘I’ll check into that tomorrow and see what I can find out.’
‘Don’t get yourself into trouble over it,’ May warned in her concerned mother-hen way. As the eldest of the three sisters, having lost their mother when they were all very young, May had taken on the role of matriarch at a very early age, and after the death of their father the previous year she now took that role doubly seriously.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ March grinned dismissively, always the more reckless sister of the trio.
‘I’ll see you both in the morning,’ January told them laughingly, well accustomed to the battle of wills that often ensued between her cautious and more impetuous sisters.
She hurried up the stairs to get herself ready for this evening, choosing another black dress this time, knee-length, with a low neckline and long black sleeves ending in a dramatic vee at her slender wrists. Her hair she pulled back with jewelled combs, leaving wispy tendrils against her creamy cheeks.
It was slightly strange to lead these double lives, dressing glamorously for her role as a singer compared to the usual thick baggy jumpers, old denims and wellington boots when she was on the farm. Somehow the two didn’t seem compatible…
It was troubling about the farm, though, she considered on her drive to the hotel. As March was only too keen to point out, no one could force them to sell if they didn’t want to—which they certainly didn’t. But what May had said was also true: life could be made very difficult for them if some sort of development completely surrounded their land and the farm.
There were such things as right of way, and water rights, for one thing; James Hanworth had never troubled about such things, had accepted that the Calendar farm was adjacent to his, and that access and water were a necessary part of its success. Somehow January doubted the new owner—a corporation, no less—would be quite as magnanimous.
It was testament to how troubling she found the situation that she hadn’t even given the man Max a second thought until she went into the almost deserted piano-bar and found him sitting there chatting to John, the barman!
For some reason she had assumed Max would only be staying at the hotel the previous night. Erroneously, as it turned out.
‘Ah, January.’ Max turned to look at her with mocking blue eyes as she went straight over to the piano to arrange her music for the evening. He strolled over to stand only feet away from her. ‘I believe there was some sort of confusion last night as to where we were to meet each other at the end of the evening?’
He believed no such thing, knew very well that she had deliberately slipped away through another door in order to avoid meeting him.
‘Was there?’ January raised her head to look at him, her gaze steady—despite the fact that she felt an inner quiver of awareness at the physical impact of his attractiveness in the lounge suit and blue shirt.
He really was a very attractive man, and January would be deceiving herself if she denied responding to that attraction. It was his sheer intensity of personality that she found a little overwhelming.
‘I like to think so.’ He smiled, a pulse-jumping, heart-stopping smile.
As if to give lie to her wariness of his previous intensity… ‘Maybe we can do better this evening?’ he suggested mildly.
He really was trying to lighten up, wasn’t he? January accepted with an inner amusement. But not hard enough to conceal the fact that he was still determined to spend time alone with her…
‘Perhaps,’ she returned noncommittally. ‘If you’ll excuse me? I have to start my first session,’ she added to take the bluntness out of her previous statement.
‘Of course,’ he accepted lightly, moving back slightly to allow her to seat herself at the piano, before bending forward, his mouth only inches from her ear. ‘You’re looking even more beautiful this evening than you did last night,’ he murmured huskily, the warmth of his breath stirring the tendrils of hair against her cheeks.
January swallowed hard, tilting her head back slightly to look up into his face. A face still only mere inches away from hers… ‘Thank you,’ she accepted softly.
Max straightened, that smile back on his lips as he looked down at her admiringly. ‘Very graciously said,’ he told her appreciatively.
January gave a mocking inclination of her head, determined not to let him see that his proximity was unnerving her. Even if it was! ‘I like to think so,’ she dryly returned his own comment of a few minutes ago.
He chuckled appreciatively. ‘I’ll have a drink waiting for you at the bar when you have your break. John tells me that you usually prefer a sparkling water.’
She gave an irritated frown at the thought of this man discussing her likes and dislikes with a third person, even someone as innocuous as John. ‘The whole point of my having a break is to give me a few minutes to relax.’ Something she certainly couldn’t do around him!
‘Then we won’t talk,’ he promised lightly.
No one could have accused him of being a chatter-box the previous evening! But this man didn’t need to say anything to totally disrupt her equilibrium; just having him sitting there staring at her was enough to make her nervous.
‘Fine,’ she accepted tautly.
Max looked at her consideringly for several long seconds. ‘The last time you agreed with me so readily you made an escape out the back door,’ he said slowly.
January felt the guilty colour warm her cheeks; she had said and done exactly that, hadn’t she…?
‘Well, this time I won’t,’ she assured him impatiently. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay,’ he acknowledged with a slight inclination of his head. ‘By the way…’ he paused before leaving ‘…you have the most incredibly sexy voice, speaking or singing, that I have ever heard,’ he told her softly before walking away.
Oh, very conducive to calming her already frayed nerves—she didn’t think!

Better, Max, he congratulated himself as he resumed his seat on a stool at the bar. Much better. Just the right balance of humour and determination. All he had to do now was keep it up for the next few hours!
All! When January had walked into the room a short time ago wearing that figure-hugging black dress, showing a long expanse of shapely legs beneath its knee-length, he had literally stopped breathing for several seconds, the blood singing heatedly in his veins, and as for the rest of his body—! That sort of response just at the sight of a woman hadn’t happened to him since he was a raw teenager!
But he had regrouped, he assured himself, had spoken to her confidently and yet not too forcefully, infusing humour into the banter they had exchanged.
And then he had told her how sexy he found the sound of her voice!
Okay, okay, so he had slipped back a little there. But it had been worth it—if only to see the warm colour that had suffused her cheeks, the sparkle in those incredibly beautiful grey eyes!
At thirty-seven, Max had known many beautiful and accomplished women, been involved with several of them, but those women had been far too worldly-wise themselves to blush at something that was said to them; it was refreshing to know that January wasn’t such a sophisticate.
How old was she? he wondered. Mid-twenties, probably, he decided. Not too young that he felt guilty over this single-minded interest he had found in her, but not too old that she had forgotten how to blush at a compliment.
‘Great girl, isn’t she?’ The barman spoke admiringly as he stood polishing glasses in preparation for the busy evening ahead, obviously having followed Max’s line of vision. ‘Not in the least stand-offish like some of the singers we’ve had in here in the past,’ John added with a pointed grimace.
Max sensed that John could be a great source of information about January. If Max chose to pursue it. Which he didn’t…
For some reason he felt a great need to get to know January for himself, to unpeal each protective layer, until he knew her totally. Like that parcel in the children’s game where you took one wrapper off at a time as the music stopped, until at last you arrived at the treasure within.
Once again he thanked his lucky stars that his good friend Jude wasn’t about to witness his interest in January; he had no doubt that the other man would have found it highly amusing to see Max floundering around in the throes of this unexpected attraction!
Amusing? He doubted Jude would be able to stop laughing for a week!
Although Max’s total lack of success so far in the main reason for his being here would probably wipe that smile from the other man’s face, Max conceded with a frown as he thought of his meeting earlier today. A more stubborn, unyielding—! Not that he had given up, not for a moment—it was just going to take a little longer to accomplish what he had come here to do than he had at first supposed. But now that he had met January, that delay certainly wasn’t a drawback, as far as he was concerned!
He had the distinct impression that January was going to be an even harder conquest than the business deal he had come here to complete on Jude’s behalf!
The piano-bar slowly filled up as the sound of January singing drifted through to the other reception rooms, a rather noisy party of young men obviously on a stag-night part of the crowd that now stood at the bar, several of those young men obviously ogling January in her sexy black dress. Giving him the hitherto unknown feelings of jealousy at the thought of any man looking at her but him!
Which was ridiculous, considering her choice of career; the way she looked was as much a part of that career as her sexily attractive voice.
All well and good, Max, he derided his own logic—but that still didn’t stop the need he felt to get up and wrap his jacket around her so that she was hidden from any other male eyes but his!
‘Whisky,’ he turned to order from John grimly. ‘Make it a double,’ he added harshly as one of the young men strolled over to chat with January as she turned the music over between songs.
John gave him a quizzical look as he set the whisky glass down in front of Max. ‘January knows how to take care of herself,’ he offered lightly by way of advice.
Little comfort, when Max wanted to take care of her himself. Take care of her! He wanted to pick her up in his arms, carry her up to his hotel suite and make love to her until they were both too weak to do anything else but lay satiated in each other’s arms. And then he wanted to start all over again!
She was laughing up at the young man now, completely relaxed in his company. But it was too much for Max, just too much, when the young man bent his head to give January a less-than-brotherly kiss on the lips!
He wasn’t even aware of crossing the room, let alone having grabbed hold of the collar of the other man’s jacket as he pulled him forcibly away from January, his face only inches away from the young man’s as he glared down at him.
‘Max…?’ January gasped softly from somewhere behind him. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she snapped incredulously.
Max narrowed his gaze briefly on the younger man before he turned to look questioningly at January. ‘He was bothering you—’
She was standing now, shaking her head frowningly. ‘Josh is a friend, Max,’ she murmured as she gently released his hand from the other man’s jacket. ‘He’s marrying my cousin Sara next Saturday,’ she added pointedly.
That may be so, Max accepted grimly, but the kiss he had given January had looked far from ‘cousin-in-lawly’ to him!
‘You’re causing a scene,’ January muttered awkwardly.
Several people in the now crowded bar were watching them curiously, the group of young men who had come in with Josh amongst them. Probably getting ready to come to the aid of their friend, Max conceded self-derisively.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered to Josh as the younger man straightened his jacket, aware that the manager, Peter Meridew, was also watching the exchange with a narrowed gaze.
January was right, what on earth had he thought he was doing? He might know that he was more interested in January than any other woman he had ever met, but as far as she was concerned he was merely a guest at the hotel who had bought her a drink last night!
He forced himself to relax. ‘I really do apologize if I overreacted just now,’ he told the other man more amiably.
‘No problem,’ Josh assured him dismissively. ‘It’s nice to know that someone is looking out for January,’ he added magnanimously.
‘I don’t—’
‘Perhaps I could buy you and your friends a drink?’ Max cut in lightly on what he was sure was going to be January’s assertion that she didn’t need, or want, anyone looking out for her. ‘I’m sure January would love to join us once she’s finished this session,’ he added challengingly.
January was more beautiful than ever when she was angry, Max discovered as he turned to her with raised brows, her eyes a deep sparkling grey, her cheeks flushed against magnolia skin, even her mouth appearing redder. And more kissable than ever, he realized uncomfortably.
‘The wedding is next Saturday, you say?’ He turned back to the younger man—as much for his own peace of mind as to break his gaze away from January’s fierce glare.
‘Three o’clock.’ Josh grinned happily. ‘You’re more than welcome to accompany January, if you would care to,’ he invited warmly.
‘You—’
‘Why don’t we go back to the bar and talk about that?’ Max suggested firmly at what he guessed was going to be January’s heated refusal to that suggestion. ‘We really shouldn’t interrupt you any longer,’ he told her dismissively, turning away with Josh to walk back to the bar.
But he was aware of January’s glaring gaze every step of the way!
Was equally sure that her next choice of song, something about ‘surviving’ and being ‘able to take care of herself’, was in direct response to what she believed to be his heavy-handed interference a few minutes ago.
So much for his keeping the evening light and amusing, he acknowledged self-derisively. He very much doubted that she would consider his almost punching her cousin-in-law-to-be in the mouth as either ‘light’ or ‘amusing’!
Nevertheless, he couldn’t resist raising his whisky glass in a toast to her as the song came to an end, receiving a narrow-eyed glare in return.
Max grinned in response. He couldn’t help himself. Persuading her into a relationship with him was not going to be easy. But he had never backed down from a challenge in his life before, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Besides, he might not have had too successful a day but, all things considered, it hadn’t been a bad evening so far. If all else failed where January was concerned, he could always fall back on the definite invitation he had received from Josh to attend the family wedding the following Saturday!

CHAPTER THREE (#u7bd48c91-1f07-55bd-b043-cb4bc0f1ad83)
‘YOU can’t possibly go to the wedding with me next Saturday,’ January told Max firmly as she sat down at the table opposite him, the opportunity to tell him exactly this being the only reason she had agreed to have a drink with him at the end of the evening in the first place.
He eyed her with some amusement, blue eyes dark with suppressed laughter. ‘Why can’t I?’ he returned mildly. ‘Josh seemed perfectly sincere about the invitation.’
‘I’m sure that he was,’ January acknowledged disgruntledly, more than a little annoyed with her cousin-in-law-to-be for offhandedly having made the invitation at all. Kissing her as a stag-night bet was one thing, inviting Max to come to the wedding with her was something else entirely. ‘It simply isn’t possible,’ she insisted determinedly.
‘Why isn’t it?’ he prompted softly. ‘I didn’t get the impression, based on the fact that Josh made the invitation, that you intended going with anyone else,’ he added hardly.
‘Well, you were wrong,’ January told him stubbornly. ‘I’m going with my family,’ she enlightened impatiently as she saw the way his gaze narrowed speculatively. ‘Taking a complete stranger to the wedding with me would be tantamount to making some sort of announcement to the rest of my family,’ she added irritably as he returned her gaze blandly now. ‘An inappropriate announcement!’ She glared her annoyance at his inability not to have seen that in the first place.
He might have shown a marked interest in her the last two evenings, but she was sure he wouldn’t want to give either her or her family that particular impression!
‘It’s a week away, January.’ He shrugged. ‘A lot can happen in a week,’ he added enigmatically.
A lot always ‘happened’ in her week, her work on the farm and the singing at the hotel in the evenings keeping her more than busy—but this man, with his powerful good looks, and his rich sophistication, simply did not ‘happen’ in that life!
‘I said no, Max,’ she reiterated firmly. ‘And I meant no.’ She took a sip of her sparkling water, feeling in need of something a little stronger, but unable to do so when she still had to drive home.
‘Whatever,’ he dismissed uninterestedly. ‘You were good this evening, January,’ he changed the subject abruptly. ‘Despite having been very soundly kissed in the middle of it,’ he added hardly.
‘It was a bet, Max.’ January sighed, too tired and irritable to simply tell him to mind his own business. ‘A stag-night dare,’ she enlarged. ‘I was at school with most of that group; they thought it a great laugh to dare Josh to kiss me.’
In fact, Peter Meridew had had cause to speak to Josh and several of his friends before the end of the evening, claiming their rowdiness was disturbing the other guests.
Max gave her a look that told her precisely how unfunny he had found the whole incident, too!
Peter Meridew was one thing, but what did it really matter what Max thought? Or said, for that matter. He was a guest at the hotel—for how long, she had no idea—but pretty soon he was going to move on. And when he did, he was not going to leave a broken-hearted singer/farmer behind him!
Because she would be deceiving herself if she didn’t admit—inwardly, at least!—that she had found his earlier behaviour, in jumping to her supposed rescue, highly chivalrous. An old-fashioned description, perhaps, but that was exactly how it had seemed at the time. No wonder those ladies of old had swooned into the arms of their saviour! And she didn’t doubt for a moment that Max would have carried out his intention to knock Josh to the floor if she hadn’t stepped in and explained the situation.
‘It’s late.’ She gave a weary sigh, pushing her long dark hair back over her shoulder, looking over to give John a sympathetic smile as he cleaned the bar prior to his own shift ending for the night. ‘I really should be on my way.’ She wasn’t as late as last night, obviously, but she definitely felt more tired.
More emotional? Possibly. One thing she did know: she had better get herself as far away from Max as possible—now!—or risk giving in to that emotion.
Max gave an inclination of his head, his gaze once more as intense as it had been the previous evening. ‘You do look as if you’ve had enough for one night, would you allow me to order you a taxi?’
She gave a rueful smile. ‘There would be little point in that.’ Tempting as the offer was to relinquish the hour-long drive into someone else’s more than capable hands. ‘I don’t work tomorrow evening, so it would simply mean another drive out tomorrow to pick up my car.’
‘I wouldn’t mind picking you up.’ Max shrugged. ‘That way, you could introduce me to the rest of your family,’ he added pointedly.
And that way he would no longer be the ‘complete stranger’ to them she had accused him of being earlier! Very clever, she acknowledged admiringly—if totally out of the question.
‘I don’t think so, thanks.’ She smiled as she stood up to put an end to the conversation.
Max stood up, too, easily towering over her. ‘It really isn’t a problem,’ he assured her smoothly. ‘Besides, John was telling me earlier that you have some sort of stalker in the area…?’ He frowned as the two of them gave the barman a friendly wave before walking out into the reception area.
He did have a point there. So far, the Night Striker had only attacked women in quiet, country areas, and while the hotel car park hardly qualified as that it was pretty deserted this time of night…
‘Hmm,’ she acknowledged with a grimace. ‘Six attacks in the last six months.’
Max’s eyes darkened at the knowledge. ‘Then, if you really do insist on driving yourself home…? That’s what I thought,’ he acknowledged dryly as she gave an affirmative nod. ‘In that case, there is no way I’m going to let you walk out to the car park alone while I go upstairs to my warm and cosy hotel suite.’
‘It’s quite well lit,’ she assured him.
‘I still don’t feel happy about letting you walk to your car unescorted,’ he insisted firmly.
She could see by his determined expression that it would be no use pointing out that it was something she normally did three nights of the week. Every week. That she would do again once he had left the hotel…
‘You’re starting to sound like my elder sister May now!’ January teased as Max moved to drape her coat around her shoulders in preparation for going outside in the cold winter air.
He gave a start of surprise. ‘I’m not sure I like sounding like someone’s elder sister!’
January laughed softly. ‘Will it help if I tell you I’m very attached to both my sisters?’
‘It might,’ he conceded slowly. ‘Here, let me help you,’ he offered as she struggled to put her arms into the sleeves of her coat as the cold wind outside penetrated the thin material of her dress.
Helping her into her coat was good manners, January acknowledged frowningly; allowing his arm to drape casually across her shoulders as they walked over to her car was something else entirely!
Not that she wasn’t grateful for the added warmth of his body so close to hers—it was that closeness that bothered her. Disturbed her. Excited her!
She had never met anyone quite like Max before, finding his air of sophistication, his complete air of confidence, those overpoweringly good looks, enticing to say the least.
Admit it, January, she derided herself; you’re intrigued by the man, in spite of yourself!
Intrigued? Her heart was pounding, her pulse racing, the flush that warmed her cheeks owing nothing to the cold and everything to Max’s proximity.
‘I really wasn’t meaning to sound insulting just now when I likened your concern to my elder sister’s.’ She burst into speech in an effort to hide the confused emotions welling up inside her. ‘I—it was rather—endearing,’ she added awkwardly, at the same time glancing across to where her car was parked, quickly gauging how much longer it was going to take to reach it. Not long now, thank goodness. ‘As the youngest of three, I’ve always come in for the biggest amount of sisterly advice. Even March sometimes gets in on the act.’ She grimaced. ‘And she’s known as the more impetuous one of us!’
‘January. March. And May,’ Max repeated slowly. ‘Three months of the year,’ he added speculatively.
‘Oh, that’s easily explained.’ January came to a grateful halt beside her little car, at the same time searching in her bag for her keys. ‘You see—’
‘All I can see at the moment, January, is the most beautiful woman I have ever set eyes on,’ Max cut in harshly. ‘It’s all I’ve been able to see for the last thirty-six hours!’
January looked up at him sharply, becoming suddenly still as she found herself drowning in the fathomless depths of his eyes.
‘January!’ he groaned throatily even as his head lowered and his lips claimed hers, at the same time as his arms moved about the slenderness of her waist to pull her close to the warm hardness of his body.
Drowning must be something like this, January guessed dreamily a few minutes later; the initial fight against the inevitable, before the complete surrender to a force of such strength it was impossible to fight it any longer.
She knew nothing about this man but the little he had told her—the little he had chosen to tell her. She didn’t even know his surname, she realized with a shocked jolt, and yet—
She couldn’t think any more, couldn’t formulate two words together in her brain, could only breathe and feel Max, her body on fire with the desire his kisses engendered.
Her arms moved up to his shoulders as she held on to him, one of her hands becoming enmeshed in the dark thickness of his hair, that hair silky to the touch.
Max groaned low in his throat, evidence of his own pleasure at her touch, his mouth moving more fiercely against hers now as he deepened the kiss, his tongue moving searchingly over the sensitivity of her inner lip before probing deeper.
January had never felt such oneness with another person before, as if she were a part of Max, and he a part of her, having no idea any more where Max began and she ended.
It was—
Tiny pinpoints of icy cold were falling against the warmth of her face, January’s eyes opening wide in puzzlement as the unwanted intrusion persisted, blinking dazedly as she looked up to see the snow gently falling down on them.
Max broke the kiss reluctantly, his arms remaining firmly about her waist as he gave a rueful grimace at the steadily falling snowflakes. ‘Almost as good as a cold shower,’ he murmured self-derisively, his gaze warm as he turned back to January. ‘Probably as well,’ he conceded ruefully. ‘I would like the first time I make love to you to be somewhere a little more—comfortable than a hotel car park!’
The first time…? That statement implied it would only be the first time of many…!
January pulled gently out of his arms, turned away to hide her confusion, determinedly turning her attention to a renewed search in her handbag for her car keys. Where on earth were they? What—?
‘January…?’ Max reached out a hand to lift up her chin, his gaze becoming searching as he saw the paleness of her face.
‘I really do have to go now, Max,’ she told him awkwardly, sighing her relief as she at last located her keys at the bottom of her bag. ‘It’s very late—’
‘Or early,’ he put in lightly. ‘Depends on your point of view, doesn’t it?’ he teased. ‘I want to see you again, January,’ he told her firmly. ‘Tomorrow,’ he added determinedly. ‘Will you have lunch with me?’
Would she? Could she? Dared she?
Because she was in no doubt that if she agreed to see this man again there would be a repeat of the kisses they had just shared, that the next time there might be no pulling back—that even now her body still burned for the touch of his!
But could she not see Max again? Could she just walk away from him, from the totally new emotions she had known just now in his arms, and calmly get on with the rest of her life? Could she do that? Did she want to do that?
‘Lunch tomorrow would be nice,’ she accepted huskily, not quite able to meet his gaze now, afraid that he might be able to see the hunger still burning in her eyes if she did. A hunger that seemed to consume every part of her…
‘Nice isn’t quite the way I would have put it.’ Max’s mouth twisted ruefully. ‘But I suppose it will have to do,’ he accepted self-derisively. ‘Are you going to be okay driving home in this weather?’ He frowned up at the snow that was falling more heavily than ever.
What was the alternative? To stay the night with him in his hotel suite? Somehow she didn’t think so! She might respond to this man in a way that was totally new—and a little frightening?—to her, but that didn’t mean she was about to fall willingly into his arms at the first opportunity.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she dismissed, willing her hand not to shake as she unlocked her car door. ‘This is the north of England, Max; it often snows here. If you allowed your life to be dictated by the weather you would never do anything,’ she assured him.
‘Okay,’ he agreed with obvious reluctance. ‘Where shall we meet for lunch?’ he prompted as January got into her car.
She looked up at him. ‘How about here? At twelve-thirty? There’s a nice pub a couple of miles away where they serve a great Sunday lunch.’ Working at the hotel, she did not want to be seen by Peter Meridew eating lunch here with one of the guests. Especially a guest like Max!
‘Okay.’ Max nodded slowly, bending down so that he filled the doorway, making it impossible for January to close the car door. ‘You won’t change your mind?’ he prompted huskily.
She already had—several times! But, no…she wouldn’t change her mind.
‘I’ll be here at twelve-thirty,’ she promised, giving an involuntary shiver as the piercing wind and snow entered the car. ‘Brr.’ She grimaced pointedly.
‘Sorry,’ Max murmured ruefully, stepping back so that she could close the car door.
January wound down the window. ‘You should get inside,’ she advised lightly, grateful when her car started the first time she turned the key; it was an old car, and prone to letting her down at inconvenient moments. ‘You’re getting very wet!’ As were his tailored suit and expensive-looking leather shoes.
Now where had she—?
‘I’ll wait here until you’ve driven off, if you don’t mind,’ Max told her grimly. ‘It’s the least I can do!’
He so obviously wasn’t accustomed to having his wishes overridden in this way that January couldn’t help but smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she told him as she drove off with a wave of her hand.
She passed John on his way to his own car as she drove out of the car park, giving him a friendly wave too before accelerating out onto the deserted road.
She would be lying if she said it was an easy drive home, because it was far from that, the drive on the untarmacked cart-track that led up to the farm the worst part of it. But at last she arrived in the farmyard, relieved to switch off the car engine and get out of the car, flexing the tension from her tired shoulder muscles.
Tension not just caused from the difficult drive home, January conceded ruefully. There was Max, her response to him, to worry about, too.
But the tension left her completely as she stood looking at the surrounding countryside, at the snow-covered hills, slowly becoming filled with an inner peace. The land, as far as her eye could see, belonged to them. It might be a tough life sometimes, a lot of hard work, often with no obvious return, the weather and circumstances unkind to them occasionally, too, but it was all theirs.
Nothing—and no one—was ever going to change that…

She was late for their luncheon appointment, by precisely ten minutes, Max realized, scowling after yet another glance at his gold wrist-watch as he strolled restlessly up and down the reception area of the hotel.
Always a stickler for being on time for appointments himself, Max found January’s tardiness doubly frustrating. Firstly, because of that abhorrence of lateness in others as much as in himself; secondly—the fact that January hadn’t arrived at twelve-thirty, as she had said she would, might mean that she wasn’t coming at all!
It was that second reason that was the most frustrating.
Maybe he had come on a little strong with her again last night? Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her quite that passionately?
But once he’d held January in his arms, not to have kissed her in the way he had had been totally beyond his control. In truth, he had wanted to do a lot more than just kiss her!
Her body had been warm and fluid, her breasts pressed invitingly against his chest, her thighs moulding perfectly against his; it had taken every ounce of his will-power not to sweep her off her feet and carry her up to his hotel room. Where he had wanted to explore every delectable inch of her body with his hands and lips!
Stop it, Max, he instructed himself firmly. Wasn’t it enough that he had spent a sleepless night, initially worrying in case she hadn’t got home safely, and wishing that he had asked her to call him when she’d got in, followed by a hunger just for sight or touch of January, without repeating that discomfort now? He couldn’t remember the last time he had hungered for a woman in this way—if he ever had!—let alone got up in the middle of the night to take a cold shower in an effort to deal with the problem.
He glanced at his watch again. She was fifteen minutes late now—
‘Er—sir? Mr Golding, isn’t it?’
He turned to scowl in acknowledgement as the receptionist called hesitantly across to him.
‘I believe there’s a telephone call for you.’ She pointed to the telephone at the end of the desk, the flashing light indicating the call.
Probably Jude, checking up on progress, Max realized frowningly as he moved to take the call. Just what he needed at this precise moment!
‘Yes?’ he snapped into the receiver.
‘Max?’ January returned uncertainly.
He willed himself to relax, not to show how angry he was—and failed miserably. ‘Where the hell are you?’ he rasped; the fact that she was telephoning him at all meant that she wasn’t on her way here—or, in fact, intending to be!
‘Well, at the moment I’m at home—’
‘You should be here!’ he snapped, his hand tightly gripping the receiver.
‘But until a short time ago I was sitting in my car in a ditch,’ January continued, determined. ‘Max, I’m sorry,’ she added huskily.
‘I really am. I set out in plenty of time to get there at twelve-thirty, but the car skidded on some ice, I lost control, and—well, I ended up in the ditch. I telephoned as soon as I could—’
‘Are you hurt?’ Max cut in sharply, furious with himself now for having lost his temper with her initially. If she were hurt—! That possibility didn’t bear thinking about!
‘Just a little bump on the head,’ January dismissed. ‘But the car is probably a write-off—’
‘Forget the car,’ he cut in. ‘It’s easily replaceable. You aren’t.’
‘Well it might be easily replaceable to you.’ She laughed ruefully. ‘I’m not in such a healthy financial position, I’m afraid. But never mind that,’ she changed the subject. ‘There is no way I’m going to make it for lunch now, so could we make it dinner this evening, instead? March says she doesn’t need her car this evening, so I can borrow that. As long as I promise not to put that in a ditch, too,’ she added dryly.
Max’s head was still full of horrifying visions of the first time she had landed in a ditch, at how nearly he had lost her, when he had only just found her!

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/carole-mortimer/his-cinderella-mistress/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.