Christmas with a Billionaire

Be honest with yourself, at least, Hamilton, he inwardly berated himself; he had found Sophie intriguing from the beginning. Had found her conversation amusing as well as interesting. And although she bore absolutely no resemblance to those model-beautiful women he usually dated, Sophie undoubtedly had her own attractions.

Her eyes were such a deep and dark brown a man could drown in them, for one.

Those freckles across her nose and cheeks were a temptation to kiss them, for another.

Her lips were full and pouting, and extremely kissable.

As for the creaminess of her breasts …!

Max hadn’t been able to resist kissing them either. Or touching them. As for caressing them? Sophie’s breasts were extremely responsive, the nipples plump and full. As delicious and succulent, in fact, as two ripe berries, and Max had wanted to gorge himself on them.

The fact that Sophie’s lips were red and slightly puffy from the heat of their kisses, with a slight redness on her chin and down her neck, thanks to the five o’clock shadow on his own jaw, was evidence of how close he had come to doing exactly that.

Lord knew how far things would have gone between the two of them if Janice and family hadn’t arrived so unexpectedly.

Which raised the question—what was Tom doing here with his wife and daughter?

Not that Max wasn’t pleased to see his brother-in-law, or that Janice and Tom were so obviously back together, because he couldn’t have been happier on both those counts. He had always liked Tom, and it had to be better for all of them, but especially for Amy, if Janice and Tom had resolved their differences. Max just wished he had known about the reconciliation before the three of them had actually arrived.

Not that it made a lot of difference in the grand scheme of things, because Janice had already informed him out in the hallway that the three of them would now be spending Christmas with him rather than just two, and that they’d arrived a day early so that they could surprise him.

Any explanations about the reconciliation, if Janice and Tom cared to give any, could be made after Amy was safely in bed. And, if not, then Max considered it was none of his business.

‘Sophie Carter,’ Max answered his sister briskly now. ‘Employed by me, to answer my “organising Christmas for you” prayer,’ he added drily.

‘Oh.’

Max chuckled ruefully. ‘Try to look a little less disappointed by that explanation, sis,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘You’re embarrassing Sophie.’

Sophie was beyond mere embarrassment right now. Way beyond, after the intimacies she and Max had indulged in before the arrival of his sister and her family.

Max had also, in just a few brief words to his sister, placed Sophie firmly in the role of employee.

‘It’s time I cleared up in here and left you all to enjoy the rest of the evening together,’ she announced briskly as she moved round the table to start putting the now cooled gingerbread into a storage box ready for decorating tomorrow morning. ‘Unless you would like me to prepare something for dinner before I go?’ she offered with a politely enquiring glance in Max’s direction, letting him know that she had no delusions about what had happened between them earlier and could be just as coolly businesslike as him.

And, with the arrival of his sister and her family, that was exactly what Sophie intended to be in future, as far as Max Hamilton was concerned!

‘I seem to have done nothing but eat since we left New York,’ Janice refused lightly. ‘How about everyone else?’

‘I’d like to go and look at the big tree and then go to bed, Mummy,’ Amy answered tiredly.

‘I’m good too, thanks,’ Tom also refused.

Which left only Max …

Only Max?

Sophie gave an inward quiver as she realised that he—maintaining a distance from him—was going to be her biggest problem over Christmas.

CHAPTER SIX

SOPHIE LOOKED AT MAX enquiringly, even as she inwardly willed him to say no to her offer to stay and cook dinner for him. Because she dearly wanted to leave now; she needed to get out of Max’s apartment, away from Max, in order to go home and regroup.

If that was even possible after what had just happened between them.

But she had to at least try.

Max Hamilton was a billionaire and she was a struggling student. Max was sophisticated and she was far from being that. Max was a rich and handsome playboy with a legion of women in his past—and present?—and she hadn’t so much as had time to go out on a single date in over three years. Also, Max was an experienced lover and she was still a virgin!

‘Let’s go and look at the tree in the other room, hmm, Amy?’ Tom Hilton was the one to lightly break the silence. ‘I’m pretty sure I saw presents beneath it!’ he teased his young daughter.

Amy gave a squeal of excitement even as she struggled to be put down from her uncle’s arms, before grabbing hold of her father’s hand and dragging him out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the sitting room.

There was a continued and awkward silence in the kitchen once father and daughter had left, causing Janice Hilton to look between Sophie and Max curiously.

‘Er … Perhaps Amy would like to help me decorate the gingerbread in the morning?’ Sophie prompted when she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

‘That’s really kind of you; I’m sure she would love it.’ Janice smiled warmly. ‘Remember, Max, how we always used to?’

‘Not now, Janice!’ her brother rasped harshly.

‘Perhaps not,’ she accepted with a wistful sigh. ‘I think perhaps I should go and join Tom and Amy in the sitting room now, and leave the two of you alone to talk,’ she added with a rueful glance at the stony-faced Max. ‘Nice to meet you, Sophie.’ Janice paused in the doorway. ‘Oh, and did you know you have white powder—possibly flour!—on the back of your jeans, Sophie?’

Sophie’s cheeks blazed with warmth as she looked over her shoulder and saw the flour on the backside of her jeans, glaring at Max as the other woman left the room to join her husband and daughter in the sitting room. Obviously, the flour had got there when Max had lifted her up onto the kitchen table.

‘Don’t blame me!’ He held up his hands defensively.

Sophie looked up from brushing the flour off the back of her jeans, certain that her face must look very hot—and even more bothered!

‘And who else should I blame, when you’re the one that lifted me onto the table in the first place?’

‘I don’t remember you protesting at the time,’ Max came back mildly, outwardly amused by Sophie’s embarrassment, but inwardly irritated too—because he very much doubted he had heard the last on the subject from his sister.

Brown eyes glared daggers at him. ‘And I don’t remember being given much opportunity to protest.’

Max returned that gaze quizzically. They both knew her statement wasn’t completely truthful, that Sophie could have demurred at any time—when he first kissed her lips, when his tongue and lips had searched out the delectable hollows of her throat, when he had clasped her bottom and carried her over to the table, when he had unfastened her blouse, cupped her breasts and caressed them—and Max would have stopped.

At least, he hoped that he would.

Sophie, with her blazing red hair and refreshingly unusual and freckle-faced beauty, had a way of turning his well-ordered world upside down. Of turning him upside down. So much so that things like caution and self-control seemed to fall by the wayside the moment he was with her.

As they did now.

His body was still hot and aching, telling Max all too clearly that he wanted to continue where the two of them had left off. Something that was impossible, and would be for some time, now that his sister, brother-in-law and niece had arrived to stay.

‘Never mind,’ Sophie dismissed abruptly before visibly forcing the tension from the slenderness of her shoulders. ‘Now that your brother-in-law is here, would you like me to go present shopping for him too, before I come back here in the morning?’

Well, at least she intended coming back in the morning; there had been every chance that she wouldn’t, after their earlier intimacies.

‘Fine.’ Max nodded. ‘I—You don’t have to go right away,’ he continued huskily. ‘You could always stay and have a drink with all of us? It will give you a chance to get to know Janice, Tom and Amy better.’ He instantly had cause to regret his impulsive offer, as Sophie now eyed him suspiciously.

‘I—No, thanks,’ she refused abruptly, her gaze now refusing to meet Max’s. ‘It’s late and I—Henry will be expecting me home any minute,’ she finished determinedly.

‘Henry?’ Max repeated sharply. ‘Who the hell is Henry?’ His voice had deepened accusingly as he continued, without waiting for her to answer, ‘Damn it, I asked you the other day if there was anyone you should be spending Christmas with.’

‘And I told you there wasn’t,’ she maintained stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t want to spend Christmas with the man you’re obviously living with?’ Max couldn’t remember ever feeling this angry in his life before.

Sophie lived with a man called Henry!

This innocent-looking little sprite, with her honest brown eyes, smart—and utterly delicious!—mouth, lived with a man called Henry.

Sophie realised she had made a mistake the moment she’d mentioned Henry’s name, but at the time she had been too flustered by thoughts of her and Max together just minutes ago, too desperate to leave Max’s apartment, to escape him, to think properly before speaking.

And now that she had spoken there was no way she could either retract the statement or admit that Henry was a cat; there was every chance that Max knew his PA had a cat called Henry, and that he would then add two and two together and come up with the correct answer of four. Namely, that Sally knew Sophie rather better than he had previously been informed. Which would not only be embarrassing for all of them but might endanger Sally’s job as Max’s PA.

‘Henry and I are currently sharing a flat, yes.’

‘And just how long has this arrangement with Henry existed?’ Max demanded to know harshly.

Sophie shrugged uncomfortably, not fooled for a moment by the softness of Max’s tone. The dangerous glitter in those green eyes told an altogether different story. ‘Just the past few days.’

‘The past few days?’ Max echoed incredulously. Disgustedly. ‘And you don’t want to spend Christmas with the man you’ve only just started living with?’

She shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I need the money you’re paying me more—’

‘Damn it, you almost allowed me to make love to you just now,’ Max rasped accusingly.

‘I don’t recall there being much “allowing” about it. You just took,’ Sophie came back defensively as she forced herself to meet Max’s gaze, uncomfortably aware of the contempt he now felt towards her as that emotion glittered uncensored in those dark green eyes.

Contempt as well as disgust.

And it would be wholly deserved contempt and disgust if Sophie really were living with a man called Henry and had earlier allowed, and responded to, Max’s kisses and caresses.

As it was, there was no way she could explain who Henry really was, not without also implicating her cousin in the deception they’d carried out.

‘Perhaps it is time that you left.’ Max spoke evenly.

‘Yes.’ Sophie could no longer meet those contemptuous green eyes.

Max’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘After all, you really don’t want to keep Henry waiting any longer.’

She gave a pained frown. ‘Max—’

‘Yes?’

Sophie inwardly quaked at the unmistakable disgust Max managed to engender in just that one word. ‘Never mind.’ She gave an uncomfortable shake of her head. ‘As I said, I’ll be a little late in the morning, as I have to shop for those presents for your brother-in-law.’

He gave a dismissive shrug of those powerful shoulders. ‘I’ll be at work anyway.’

Her eyes widened. ‘But your family is here and it’s Christmas Eve!’

He nodded tersely. ‘And?’

And she had already known that Max Hamilton hadn’t become a billionaire without working as hard as he played. That taking Christmas Eve off work to spend the day with his family probably hadn’t even occurred to him, let alone been a real possibility.

‘And nothing,’ she accepted distantly. ‘I was only being polite by informing you why I might be a little late in the morning.’

His mouth twisted with hard derision. ‘I think the two of us have gone way past being “polite” to each other, don’t you?’

Yes, they probably had, Sophie accepted heavily.

There was no probably about it.

Max had seen her breasts earlier, covered only by that red satin and lace bra, for goodness’ sake. Had kissed and caressed them until they still ached with arousal. And he had so obviously fantasised about seeing her in the matching thong too, once she’d told him she was wearing one.

Yes, the two of them were way, way past being polite to each other.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS WITH great reluctance that Max let himself into his apartment the following evening, all too aware that, for the next two days at least, there would be no escaping Christmas.

Or Sophie …

A fact instantly brought home to him as he stepped into the marble entrance hall, the delicious smell of food cooking telling him she was probably in the kitchen right now.

He was still utterly furious with her for omitting to tell him that she already had someone in her life. A ‘someone’ called Henry.

At the same time as he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since they’d parted last night. Images of her, of kissing her, touching her, had disturbed his sleep last night, and totally wrecked his concentration at work today.

Damn it, a masochistic side of him wanted to spend time with Sophie. To enjoy looking at her. Talking with her. And to laugh too, as she gave him yet another one of her cheeky set-downs in response to something he had either said or done that she disapproved of.

How sad was that? That he was inwardly aching for even the disapproval of a woman he had met for the first time just three days ago?

Utterly pathetic was what it was.

Sophie was ten years younger than him. A student, for goodness’ sake. And she wasn’t tall and slim, or sophisticated—those fiery red curls were completely untameable!—or in the least classically beautiful.

Or, it seemed, available.

Max freely acknowledged, to himself, at least, that it was the latter which had annoyed him the most.

Because Sophie lived with another man. A man called Henry.

A man Max had been resisting the urge, all last night and today, to seek out and strangle with his bare hands.

How caveman was that?

It was unbelievable that Sophie had managed to get beneath his skin in such a short space of time and he had felt positively primitive just thinking of her sharing an apartment—a bed!—with another man.

‘Uncle Max!’ An excited Amy appeared in the entrance hall, looking cute as a button in a green velvet dress, with a matching ribbon in the darkness of her curls. ‘Uncle Max, come and see how beautiful the tree looks today!’ She grinned happily as she took his hand and pulled him into the sitting room.

Max came to a halt just inside the doorway, fingers tightening about the handle of his briefcase as he saw that Sophie wasn’t in the kitchen, after all, but down on her hands and knees next to the tree in the sitting room, adding yet more gaily wrapped presents to the dozens and dozens already piled high around the base of it.

His mouth went dry as he saw Sophie was wearing fitted brown trousers today, with a matching brown sweater. The former outlined the perfect curve of her bottom as she bent over, causing him to wonder if she was wearing another thong today. The latter clung to the soft swell of her breasts as she straightened to her knees to look across at him guardedly. Those fiery red curls cascaded, unchecked, down onto the slenderness of her shoulders and about her flushed face.

For a man who had always enjoyed coming home to the peace and solitude of his apartment, Max felt a warmth inside at seeing Sophie here with his family.

With very little effort on his part, he could get used to finding her waiting here for him every evening when he came home from work.

A realisation that sent a cold shiver of apprehension down the length of his spine.

He didn’t want or need any woman waiting for him when he came home from work, this evening or any other. He knew only too well how easy it was to lose the people you cared about. The people you loved. Which was why he had never fallen in love with any of the women he had dated.

Why he had deliberately chosen to go out with women he knew there was no chance of him ever falling in love with?

Perhaps.

No, not perhaps—that was exactly what he had done for the last sixteen years. Since losing his parents so suddenly, he had learnt in a single blow just how fragile life could be, and how painful it was to lose the people you loved.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow a fiery-haired urchin like Sophie Carter to penetrate the hard shell he had kept over his emotions for so many years.

‘Are you planning to change before dinner, Max?’ Janice prompted pointedly.

Max gave himself a mental shake as he realised he had been staring at Sophie this whole time, and that his expression must have been as unpleasant as his thoughts, if the pallor of her cheeks was any indication.

His expression remained grim as he turned away to look at Janice. ‘How long do I have before we eat?’

It was impossible for Sophie to miss the fact that Max had chosen to ask his sister that question, rather than the person actually cooking the evening meal. As a means, no doubt, of letting her know exactly where she fit into the scheme of things.

Just as it had been impossible for her to have mistaken the look of displeasure on Max’s face, and the way his fingers took a white-knuckled grip of his briefcase, the moment he entered the sitting room and saw her sitting there with his family.

Well, if he thought for one moment that she had imagined she might be included in their family Christmas, he was mistaken. She knew her place, and it wasn’t here but in the kitchen. She was only here now because it was the first chance she’d had to slip the token presents beneath the tree that she had bought for the Hilton family.

Although, after his behaviour just now, she was starting to regret that she had felt guilt pressure her into buying a present for Max too.

And it had been far from easy to find something suitable for him; what did you buy a man who was a billionaire and already had everything, or had the means to buy anything and everything that he could ever want or need?

The choice of a pop-up book on horses had been easy for Amy. And she had found a pretty, but inexpensive, scarf ring made out of jade for Janice. Tom had been a little more difficult, but Sophie had finally settled on an autobiography she had thought might interest him. Which had just left her with Max to buy for.

Just!

Everything she had looked at had seemed either too personal, or too ordinary, or just too obviously inexpensive for a man as rich and overwhelmingly powerful as Max Hamilton.

Until she remembered the book she had bought for her uncle’s birthday a couple of months ago, a humorous book written by one of the more outspoken politicians. A book her uncle had greatly enjoyed, and recommended for any cynic. Which, Sophie had decided, described Max Hamilton to a T!

Not only was he cynical, but he was also sarcastic and arrogant and, at times, just plain hurtful.

‘Sophie?’ Janice queried softly.

Sophie had decorated the gingerbread snowmen and angels with Amy once she’d arrived this morning, and the Hiltons had been out for the rest of the day, doing last-minute shopping that morning and then taking Amy ice skating in the afternoon. But nevertheless Sophie had spent a little time alone in the kitchen with Janice earlier this evening. Enough to know that she liked the other woman very much.

Enough to know that the relaxed and friendly Janice was nothing like her arrogant and disdainful older brother!

‘Dinner will be served in an hour or so, Mr Hamilton,’ Sophie informed him stiltedly before stiffly crossing the room, her head held high as she moved past him to return to the kitchen.

It didn’t take a mastermind to realise that Sophie was annoyed with him again, Max acknowledged ruefully as he watched her leave. Even the red of her hair had seemed to crackle with angry disapproval.

No change there, then.

‘You weren’t very polite, Max,’ Janice admonished him softly.

‘No,’ he acknowledged without apology, in no mood to explain himself to either of the two women presently in his apartment. ‘I’ll just go and shower and change into something more casual before dinner.’ He didn’t wait for his sister’s response as he followed Sophie out of the room.

He had every intention of turning right, in the direction of his bedroom suite, walking down the carpeted hallway to his rooms, closing the door and taking a shower, preferably a cold one, after leaving the sitting room.

Instead, he found himself turning left and heading in the direction of the kitchen. And Sophie.

Max stood unobserved in the doorway, watching her as she concentrated on stirring something in a saucepan on top of the hob. She was listening to Christmas carols playing softly on the radio while she worked. The wildness of her fiery red hair was once again gathered up into a brown band at her crown, and the Santa pinafore was also secured about the slimness of her waist and looped over the back of her neck.

A neck that looked very slender and vulnerable as she bent over her task.

A vulnerability that Max was totally unable to resist as he crossed the kitchen on silent feet until he came to a halt, standing just inches behind her. He was instantly aware of the lightness of her perfume—a mixture of spring flowers and a headier spice. Just as he was also aware of the warmth of her body.

A combination that drew him in like a magnet.

The first Sophie knew of Max’s presence in the kitchen was when she gave a start of surprise and then stiffened as she felt his arms move about her waist and link together over her abdomen as he pulled her gently back to rest against his chest. ‘What …?’

‘I want to apologise for my boorish behaviour to you a few minutes ago, Sophie.’

‘What’s so different about a few minutes ago?’ she challenged as she attempted to separate his hands and release herself. ‘I had just assumed it was par for the course where you’re concerned,’ she added ruefully. The warm feel of Max’s breath against her ear indicated that his head was lowered to her level, as proof that he was standing far too close for comfort. If Sophie needed any further evidence of that, when the length of his chest and thighs was pressed so intimately against her back.

His chest rumbled against her spine as he gave a husky chuckle. ‘You really are very bad for my ego.’

‘It’s been my experience so far that your ego is already more than big enough for one man. Now would you kindly release me?’ Sophie added firmly. ‘Or do I have to hurt you?’

Max couldn’t stop his burst of laughter at her threat. Sophie was at least a foot shorter than him, and must weigh a good hundred pounds less too; the idea of her being able to physically ‘hurt’ him was ludicrous.

Besides which, holding her had filled his head with a calm he hadn’t felt in almost twenty-four hours.

‘Max?’ Sophie prompted warningly as he made no move to do as she asked and release her.

Max turned her round to face him; his lids were lowered to hide the expression in his eyes. ‘I like holding you.’