The Tycoon's Mistress

‘Paranoid!’ January echoed disbelievingly. ‘Is it “paranoid” when my sisters are absolutely stunned that I somehow forgot to mention that I had already met the lawyer Max Golding? That I was actually supposed to be going out on a date with the man this evening!’ she added disgustedly.

She didn’t add that he was also the man she had allowed to kiss her so passionately yesterday evening. Or that he was also the man she had been falling in love with!

May and March had been far from happy when January had finally arrived home—minus the car; it really was stuck fast in the ditch. Because somewhere, during the course of their conversation with Max this afternoon, he had let drop the fact that he and January had already met!

To say her sisters had demanded an explanation for January’s previous oversight would be pu tting it mildly. The fact that they had both calmed down once she’d told them exactly what had happened, that they were now just as suspicious of Max’s motives as she was, didn’t alter the fact that Max had deliberately put her in that defensive position in the first place.

Max gave a shake of his head. ‘January, so far I’m not having such a good day myself, so do you think we could just sit down and talk about this like two reasonable adults?’ he prompted hardly.

‘That may be a little difficult—when only one of us is reasonable!’ she came back scathingly.

She would never forget the way her sisters had looked at her on her return this afternoon, could still see that uncertainty in their expressions as they’d waited for her explanation. Oh, she didn’t doubt for a moment that they had both believed her explanation, that she was completely innocent in the whole matter, it was only when she’d gone up to her room to change out of her damp clothing that she had decided not to waste another minute before telling Max Golding just how underhand and devious she thought him to be.

He shrugged. ‘I’m not even going to ask which one of us you consider that to be,’ he returned dryly. ‘Although,’ he continued firmly as she would have snapped a reply, ‘I think the fact that you’ve driven out here, in the middle of yet another snowstorm, rather negates your being eligible for the description!’ he added hardly, blue gaze disapproving.

January opened her mouth a second time to give him that sharp reply, and then changed her mind as her gaze drifted past him to the window, where the snow could be seen falling heavier than ever.

To be honest, she hadn’t really noticed the snow falling as she’d driven to the hotel, had been so angry, so consumed with all the things she was going to say to Max, going over and over inside her head the conversation that she intended having with him, that she had driven to the hotel on automatic. So much so she hadn’t been aware of the snow!

‘January, could you come down off your high horse long enough for us to talk?’ Max cajoled softly. ‘I’ll order us a pot of coffee, and you can drink a warming cup of it while we talk. How about that?’

She wanted to say no, to tell him what he could do with his cup of warm coffee, but now that she was no longer as consumed by burning anger she was able to feel the chill that went all the way through to her bones.

That still wasn’t a good enough reason to have coffee with the enemy, a little voice chastened inside her head.

No, it wasn’t, she accepted heavily. The truth of the matter was, now that she was here with Max, her anger spent for the most part, she was once again becoming aware of the attraction she felt towards him—still felt towards him, in spite of everything!

Fool, she admonished herself disgustedly. Idiot, she added for good measure.

‘January?’ Max prompted huskily.

She gave a weary sigh. ‘Order your pot of coffee, Max,’ she conceded. ‘But nothing you have to say is going to change my mind about you. Or the Marshall Corporation,’ she added hardly.

He gave an abrupt inclination of his head, moving to the telephone to call Room Service and order the coffee.

January was glad of the few moments’ respite from his probing blue gaze, moving away to take off her scarf and gloves before shaking her hair loose from the collar of her jacket.

What was she doing here? Really doing here? Because she had already done what she’d come here to do—and now she was staying to have coffee with the man.

She bit her lip, knowing exactly why she was still here. She couldn’t believe—part of her didn’t want to believe!—Max was actually guilty of the things she had accused him of!

Not that she had any intention of letting Max see that particular weakness; that wouldn’t do at all. She just wanted to see—needed to see—some sort of redeeming feature in his character that told her she was justified to feel about him the way that she really did.

‘It’s on its way.’ Max spoke softly behind her.

Too close behind her, she discovered when she spun round sharply, stepping back as she found Max standing only inches away from her.

He looked at her quizzically. ‘You were miles away.’

‘Wishing myself…’ she came back tautly.

He gave a pained wince. ‘Then that makes two of us,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I was wishing the same thing a short time ago,’ he explained at her questioning look.

January’s breath caught in her throat at the burning intensity of his gaze. ‘And now?’

‘Now?’ he echoed with a self-derisive grimace. ‘Now I wish it would just keep snowing. Snowing. And snowing. I wish, January—’ he took a step closer to her ‘—that the rest of the world would just go away, that the two of us could get marooned alone together in here. For a week. A month!’ he concluded heavily.

She looked up at him uncertainly, her breath now coming in short, shallow gasps. ‘Can you get snowed in in a hotel room?’ she breathed huskily.

‘Probably not,’ he conceded ruefully. ‘But—’ He broke off as a knock sounded on the door. ‘That will be the coffee,’ he acknowledged disgustedly.

‘So much for being marooned alone together,’ January pointed out softly.

He gave a derisive inclination of his head. ‘Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, after all,’ he rasped before moving abruptly away to open the door and admit the maid with their tray of coffee.

He seemed different this evening, January acknowledged frowningly. Apart from that brief lapse just now, he was more distant. More remote. His gaze no longer burning with that intensity, but wary.

Of course he was different, she instantly admonished herself; his cover was blown, which meant he no longer needed to act like a man who was besotted with her.

‘Cream and sugar?’

She turned sharply, blinking to clear her head as she saw Max was waiting to pour her coffee, the maid having already quietly departed. ‘Black. Thank you,’ she added stiffly.

What was she doing here? she asked herself once again. Had she secretly hoped? Had a part of her still thought that perhaps there had been some sort of mistake—

‘Thank you.’ She moved to take the cup out of his hand, her gaze not quite meeting his as he looked down at her probingly.

January, careful not to let their hands touch as she took the cup from him, moved away from him abruptly to once again look out of the window, blinking back the sudden tears that blurred her vision.

She had been so angry earlier, at the realization of exactly who he was, at what she believed to be his duplicity; now she just felt miserable. Because it was all over? Because for that brief forty-eight hours she had felt wrapped in Max’s interest in her? Had known a feeling of being cared for that she hadn’t felt since her father had died? Was that why she so desperately wanted to cry?

How stupid she was. She should have known, should have guessed, that having a man like Max interested in her just couldn’t be real. After all, what was she really but a part-time farmer and singer? Hardly the sort of woman Max could ever be serious about. For all she knew about him, he could already be a married man! The very thought of that was enough to stiffen her backbone.

‘Max—’

‘January—’

They both began talking at once, January giving Max a rueful grimace as she turned to face him. ‘You first,’ she invited huskily.

His expression was bleak, eyes icy blue, letting her know that whatever he was going to say, she wasn’t going to like it.

Whatever he said now, Max knew January wasn’t going to like it. If he mentioned Jude and renewed his offer to buy the farm, January wasn’t going to like it. If he tried to explain—once again!—that he really hadn’t known she was one of the Calendar sisters, he knew she wasn’t going to like that, either. Or, indeed, believe him.

Besides, what was the point in even trying to convince her that he was telling the truth about that when he had already decided to back away from that particular situation himself? Back away—he was back-pedalling so fast he was surprised she couldn’t hear the pedals going round!

God, she was beautiful, he inwardly acknowledged achingly.

Yes, she was.

But now that he knew who she was, the closeness of her family, he also knew that whatever she might have said about love the night they’d first met, she was actually the sort of woman who wouldn’t settle for anything less than marriage—and, no matter how attracted he was to her, the very thought of being married, to anyone, gave him an icy lump of panic in the pit of his stomach.

His mouth thinned grimly. ‘I spoke to Jude Marshall earlier,’ he bit out forcefully. ‘He’s willing to increase his offer.’

January recoiled as if he had actually struck her, and it took every ounce of Max’s will-power not to take her in his arms, to tell her that everything would be okay, that while he was around no one would ever take the farm away from her, or anything else, if she didn’t want them to.

But who was he kidding? He had known Jude most of his life, might be a trusted friend as well as employee, but he also knew the other man well enough to know that what Jude wanted, he got, usually by fair means, but if those means ultimately failed…! Jude had left him in absolutely no doubt earlier that he wanted the Calendar farm, and that he intended getting it.

Max’s own inner feelings of a conflict of interest simply wouldn’t come into the other man’s equation!

Max thrust his hands into the pockets of his denims, his fists tightly clenched. ‘My advice to you all is to seriously consider this second offer,’ he told January harshly.

Her eyes widened indignantly as she snapped, ‘I wasn’t aware I had asked for your advice!’

He shrugged with seeming unconcern, hating himself for talking to her in this way, but at the same time knowing that he couldn’t back down now from the stance he had taken. Couldn’t? More like daredn’t, he acknowledged self-disgustedly. Conflict of interest, be damned; he had made his choice in Jude’s favour the moment he’d realized just how deeply involved he already was with January. Having her hate him for that choice was the price he had to pay.

‘I’m offering it anyway,’ he drawled dismissively. ‘Jude isn’t a man to take no for an answer.’

Her eyes flashed deeply grey. ‘Then the two of you must have a lot in common.’

She meant to be insulting, and she succeeded. Although there was no denying, Max accepted hardly, that she unwittingly told the truth. The two men were similar in lots of ways, both successful at what they did, both still bachelors at thirty-seven, and both intending to stay that way.

If not for the same reasons.

Jude made no secret of the fact that although women fascinated him, they as quickly bored him in a one-toone relationship, claimed that if he ever met the woman who didn’t bore him after a few days’ acquaintance he would marry her. Whereas Max had no intention of marrying ever, for any reason, least of all love.

He had looked at January on New Year’s Eve, and known he wanted her. But it was nothing more than that, he told himself determinedly. He wouldn’t allow it to be.

Women, he had learnt at a very young age, were fickle creatures at best, took a man’s love and used it as a weapon against him.

His expression was bleak now. ‘Resorting to insults isn’t going to help resolve this situation,’ he rasped.

‘Maybe not,’ she accepted heavily. ‘But it certainly makes me feel better!’

He gave a rueful shrug. ‘Then feel free.’

She gave him a searching look. ‘Max, can I ask you a question?’

He stiffened warily, not liking the look in her eyes now. ‘Go ahead,’ he invited tensely.

‘How do you sleep at night?’ she scorned.

The last two nights—very badly. Usually—very well. But he knew that wasn’t what she was really asking!

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘January, whatever you may or may not think of me personally, Jude’s offer is a fair one—’

‘I’m not interested in anything to do with Jude Marshall!’ she burst out scathingly. ‘Until recently, I had never even heard of the man—and I wish I still hadn’t!’ she added disgustedly. ‘I’m more interested in knowing how you can bear to be used as his—as his—’

‘Careful, January,’ Max warned softly. ‘In view of your obvious anger, there are some insults I’m willing to accept—others I am not,’ he added hardly. ‘I’m a lawyer. I have never been guilty of committing any sort of unlawful act.’

‘Not unlawful, maybe,’ she allowed heatedly. ‘But there is such a thing as a moral wrong.’

‘Granted,’ he acknowledged icily. ‘But as far as the Calendar family is concerned, I can’t see where I have been guilty of that either!’

‘You—you can’t see—!’ January stared at him incredulously. ‘You don’t consider deliberately setting out to seduce one of us, in order to divide and conquer, to be morally wrong?’

His eyes narrowed coldly. ‘You’re referring to yourself?’

‘Of course I’m referring to myself!’ she confirmed impatiently, becoming suddenly still as she looked at him suspiciously. ‘Unless—’

‘Don’t even suggest it, January,’ he warned softly. ‘So far I believe I have remained calm and reasonable during your diatribe of accusations—but if you proceed with the present one I may not be answerable for the consequences!’

‘You may not be—’

‘January, I don’t believe this conversation is doing anything to calm this situation down,’ he cut in impatiently, not sure how much longer he could stand here and take her insults without pulling her into his arms and kissing her into silence!

Which, in the circumstances, wouldn’t calm the situation down either!

His mouth twisted. ‘Our previous—friendship, may have given you the impression that you had the freedom to come here and throw wild accusations at me.’ He scowled darkly. ‘But I happen to think otherwise—’

‘Friendship?’ she echoed furiously. ‘Friendship!’ she repeated disgustedly, shaking her head. ‘We were never friends, Max, and you know it—’ She was suddenly silenced as Max’s mouth came down forcefully on hers.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself. Could no longer stand here and have January look at him with such dislike and loathing. Not that he thought kissing her was going to make her dislike him any less—he really just couldn’t help himself!

He might never know a moment’s peace again, might never again have complete possession of his soul, either, he realized dazedly. But for the moment, kissing January, holding her close against him, touching the silkiness of her skin, was all that mattered.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE should stop this.

Now.

Yet January couldn’t bring herself to do that, inwardly knew that this might never happen again, that she might never again know the taste and feel of Max’s lips on hers, the caress of his hands against the warmth of her burning skin.

And she wanted those things.

Wanted them so badly.

Wanted Max.

His hair was like silk against her hands as her fingers became entwined in its darkness, deepening their kiss, heat and moisture, a duel of tongues that spoke of their desire for each other.

January made no demur as her coat fell to the carpeted floor, at the warmth of Max’s hands beneath the thickness of her zipped top, flesh catching fire at the caress of his hands against the dampness of her skin.

She was aware once again of that oneness, of not knowing where she ended and Max began, every particle of her seeming joined to him, two halves of a perfect whole.

She groaned low in her throat as he broke the kiss, that groan turning to a throaty ache as his lips moved slowly across her cheek, down the sensitive column of her neck, to the pulsing hollow at its base, lips and tongue probing moistly there, pulses of pleasure shooting down the length of her spine to ignite a hitherto unknown warmth between trembling thighs.

The zip of her top moved slowly down beneath Max’s searching fingers, he bending his head as his lips followed the same path, January’s back arching instinctively as she felt the moisture of his mouth through the silky material of her bra, his tongue moving in a slow caress over the pouting invitation of her nipple.

His hands encircled the slenderness of her bared waist now, holding her against the hardness of his thighs as his lips paid homage to the warm swell of her breasts. And lower.

January moved against him invitingly, her fingers once again entangled in the darkness of his hair, holding him against her, never wanting this pleasure to stop.

And it didn’t, not when Max bent to lift her up in his arms, or when he carried her through to the bedroom to lay her down on top of the bed, or when he lay his long length beside her, his mouth once again taking fierce possession of hers.

Despite the difference in their heights, their bodies seemed to curve perfectly together as they lay turned into each other’s arms, January’s hands free to touch him in return now, caressing the hardness of his muscled back as they pressed closely together.

She gasped at the unfamiliar touch of hands against the bareness of her thighs, able to feel Max’s warmth through the lacy material of her panties, that gasp turning to a groan of pleasure as he easily sought and found the centre of her pleasure, the whole of her body feeling like molten lava now.

‘January, if you want me to stop, then you have to say so now—before it’s too late!’

She gasped at the sound of Max’s voice, felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had just been thrown over her, as if the roof above them had disappeared to allow the cold snow to fall on her burning skin, awakening her from—From what?

She fell back on the bed, staring up at Max with darkly haunted eyes, his own eyes still dark with desire as he looked at her searchingly.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ he finally groaned harshly.

She breathed shallowly, her tongue moving to moisten suddenly dry lips. ‘Like what?’

Was that husky rasp really her voice? It had sounded completely unlike her usual confident tones, like the voice of a stranger.

And perhaps that was what she had become, even to herself. Because she knew only too well that if Max hadn’t spoken and broken the spell it would no longer have just seemed as if they were two halves of a whole—it would have been a reality!

Max continued to look down at her frowningly for several long, searching seconds before flinging himself back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. ‘As if I’m some sort of monster you need protecting from!’ he rasped coldly.

Had she really looked at him in that way? If she had, then it was totally unfair—because the only person she needed protecting from was herself!

‘Max—’

He swung away from her as she would have reached out and touched his arm, swinging his legs down to sit up on the side of the bed. ‘I think you had better leave, January,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Before either of us does or says something we’re going to regret!’

Hadn’t they already done that?

January knew that she certainly had. And one glance at Max’s grimly set features told her that he wasn’t in the least happy about what had happened, either!

She sat up, fumbling with the zip on her jeans, pulling the sides of her sweater together, her fingers shaking now as she tried to put the zipper together. This was so—Why wouldn’t this thing—?

‘Here—let me,’ Max bit out tautly, at the same time reaching out—with hands that were completely steady, January noticed self-derisively—to put the zipper together and pull up the silver catch.

January looked at him beneath lowered lashes, looking, searching desperately, for some sign of the man from seconds ago, the man who had trembled with the same desire she had. All she could see was Max Golding, his hair slightly ruffled perhaps, a nerve pulsing—with anger or suppressed desire?—in the hardness of his cheek, but otherwise he looked just as self-assured as ever!

‘Your look of reproach is a little late in coming, don’t you think?’ he drawled dryly. ‘As well as being misdirected!’ he added scathingly.

January flinched as if he had hit her, his words certainly wounding, if not physically then emotionally.

‘I have to go.’ She pushed back the tangle of her hair as she scrambled over to the side of the bed, wondering when she had ever felt so miserable. Never, came the unequivocal answer!

‘Running away, January?’ Max murmured tauntingly as she reached the bedroom door.

She turned to give him a sharp reply, the words catching in her throat as she saw herself reflected in the mirror across the room, seeing herself as she never had before.

Her hair was a tangled cloud about her shoulders, her eyes a wild dark grey, her face a white blur, her lips bruised red with passion. She looked exactly what she was—a woman who had recently been roused to a passion she might never recover from!

She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze from that wanton reflection as she looked across at Max contemptuously. ‘Not running, Max, walking,’ she corrected with hard derision. ‘I should never have come here in the first place!’ she added bitterly.

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ he acknowledged hardly, moving to sit back on the bed, one arm behind his head as he rested back against the headboard. ‘A short time ago, you asked me how I sleep at night,’ he reminded tauntingly. ‘Well, I can tell you, the answer to that is “very rarely alone”,’ he drawled mockingly, blue eyes openly laughing at her now.

January stiffened defensively at the pain his words caused, easily able to envisage him in bed with a sea of faceless women—especially with him sprawled out on the bed in that telling way!

Her mouth twisted disgustedly. ‘Well, it looks as if you lucked out tonight, doesn’t it?’ she scorned.

He gave a lazy glance at the gold watch nestling amongst the dark hairs on his wrist. ‘There’s still time.’ He shrugged.

January gasped, glaring at him now as she spat out the words, ‘You’re despicable!’

He gave another shrug, blue eyes as hard as sapphires now. ‘Go home, January,’ he scorned dismissively. ‘Come back when you’ve grown up a little.’

Her hands were clenched so tightly at her sides she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. ‘It really was all an act from start to finish, wasn’t it?’ she burst out emotionally. ‘That remark about love at first sight was part of your seduction, too,’ she added chokingly.

He grimaced. ‘Most women, I’ve found, respond to the word love rather than lust.’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘I have to admit, January, you shocked the hell out of me when you called it exactly what it is!’ He gave an appreciative inclination of his head.

She felt sick, mostly at herself, she admitted; she had guessed what sort of man Max was from the beginning, had no excuse for what had just happened between them.

‘But the feeling of lust, thank goodness, isn’t confined to one person,’ Max continued dismissively. ‘Besides, January—’ his gaze was once again mocking ‘—I have a feeling that if either of us isn’t going to sleep tonight it’s going to be you!’ He looked across at her challengingly.