The Tycoon's Mistress: His Cinderella Mistress

She had to get out of here. Away from Max. Away from this room, and the memory of how close they had come to making love…!

‘My conscience is clear, Max—how about yours?’ she scorned, head held high.

He grimaced dismissively. ‘The same.’

She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘Then you must have a very different idea of what I consider acceptable behaviour!’

He shrugged. ‘For someone who was leaving at least five minutes ago, you don’t seem in any particular hurry to do so?’ He quirked mocking brows.

January drew in a sharp breath at his taunt. ‘Don’t worry, Max—I’m going. And I never want to see you again!’ She breathed agitatedly.

He gave a grim smile. ‘No chance of that happening, I’m afraid, January,’ he drawled. ‘After all, I’m still negotiating on behalf of the Marshall Corporation to buy your family farm.’

‘Over my dead body!’ she told him with feeling.

‘If you insist on driving in snowstorms—that might very well be the case,’ he mocked dryly.

She had to go. Now. Before she totally humiliated herself and began to cry!

‘Take care, January,’ Max murmured softly. ‘I hope you sleep well,’ he added tauntingly.

She gave a pained frown at this last comment, turning sharply on her heel and almost running from the room, only lingering long enough to grab her coat from the floor where it had fallen before hurrying from the hotel suite as if the devil himself were at her heels.

He was hateful. Horrible. The most horrible man she had ever met in her life!

How could she have been so stupid?

How could she have so totally misjudged a person?

How—?

‘January…?’

She looked up frowningly as she crossed the reception area of the hotel, her brow clearing slightly as she recognized John, the barman, obviously just coming in for his evening shift.

He looked at her concernedly. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

Okay? She might never be ‘okay’ again!

‘Fine,’ she assured him huskily, hoping she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

She had straightened her hair a little while travelling down in the lift, but she hadn’t been able to do anything about the paleness of her face, or that slightly bruised look to her lips.

‘You don’t look okay.’ Obviously John wasn’t fooled for a minute, still frowning his concern. ‘Come through to the bar and have a brandy,’ he encouraged worriedly.

She gave a humourless laugh, shaking her head. ‘I won’t, if you don’t mind. I’ve already had one accident today,’ she explained ruefully. ‘My sister will kill me if I prang her car, too!’

His eyes widened. ‘You’ve been involved in an accident?’

‘Only with a ditch.’ She grimaced. ‘I really do have to go, John,’ she apologized lightly. ‘Is it still snowing?’ She really had no idea how long she had been in Max’s hotel suite, or what the weather was like, either!

‘No, it’s stopped,’ John told her distractedly. ‘You really don’t look well, January, are you sure you wouldn’t like me to get someone to take over in the bar for me for a couple of hours and drive you home?’

‘That’s very kind of you.’ She touched his arm gratefully. ‘But no,’ she insisted. ‘I drove here, I can drive back.’

‘Meridew didn’t call you in, did he?’ John muttered disgustedly.

‘No, nothing like that.’ She avoided his concerned gaze. ‘I really do have to go, John,’ she told him briskly. ‘Have a good evening!’ She hurried away before he could delay her further.

Or question her further! The fewer people who knew she had been stupid enough to visit Max in his hotel suite, the better!

It was bad enough that she knew. That she was totally aware of what an idiot she had been. Of how totally she had misjudged Max’s true nature.

Well, she wouldn’t make that mistake again. In fact, she meant it when she said she hoped she never saw him again!

Good, Max. Very good, he congratulated himself as he still lay back on the bed. He had deliberately set out to make January dislike him—and he had succeeded!

Only too well.

The look of loathing she had given him before leaving told him that she didn’t just dislike him, she hated him.

Well, it was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

Of course it was.

He had deliberately set out to break those tenuous emotional ties with her, to make sure that there was no further conflict of interest. Now that he knew January was one of the Calendar sisters, and Jude refused to give up on buying the Calendar farm, it had been the only thing he could have done.

Then why did he feel so miserable at having succeeded in what he set out to do? Because he did feel miserable. More miserable than he had felt in his life before. Ever. And that included having his mother walk out on his father and him when he was only five years old.

He wasn’t naïve, knew that early experience had tempered his future relationships with women, his decision never to fall in love, never to trust any woman enough to lay himself open to that vulnerability.

But in all honesty he couldn’t even remember what his mother looked like any more. It was only the devastating loneliness of her desertion that stayed with him. Always.

Well, he certainly had nothing further to worry about in that way where January was concerned; she had really meant it when she said she never wanted to see him again.

Why did that hurt so much?

Because it wasn’t lust he felt for January at all, because he—

He had to get out of here, Max decided, standing up compulsively; even he couldn’t stand his own company at this particular moment! He needed to do something, go somewhere, anything to distract his thoughts from January and the way he had deliberately hurt her.

It was almost nine o’clock, he discovered when he got downstairs, but even so John was alone in the bar when Max walked into the room. Which suited his mood perfectly; the last thing he felt in the mood for at the moment was a lot of chattering people around him having fun!

‘A large whisky,’ he requested as he sat down on one of the bar stools.

‘Lousy weather, isn’t it?’ John placed the drink on the bar in front of Max.

‘Looks as if you’ll have a quiet evening.’ Max nodded grimly, taking a large gulp of the fiery alcohol. ‘Don’t you ever have an evening off?’ he prompted abruptly; he might not feel like having chattering people around him, but his own exclusive company wasn’t what he wanted at the moment either!

John grinned. ‘Mondays and Tuesdays.’

Max grimaced. ‘That must play havoc with your social life?’

‘What social life?’ John dismissed pointedly. ‘Still, it’s a job, which is more than a lot of people have.’ He shrugged. ‘You missed January, earlier, by the way,’ he added lightly as he moved along the bar filling up the bowls of nuts.

Max stiffened just at the sound of her name. So much for getting out of his hotel room, of doing something to keep thoughts of January at bay!

‘She seemed…upset,’ John added frowningly.

‘Did she?’ Max kept his tone bland, not wanting to get into any sort of conversation about January. Certainly not the reason she had seemed upset!

John’s brow cleared. ‘Perhaps—’

‘Mr Golding?’

Max had been so intent on his conversation with the barman, so deliberately trying not to think of January ‘upset’, that he had been completely unaware of the fact that he and John were no longer alone in the bar.

But there was no mistaking the sound of that voice. No mistaking its likeness to January’s. Except he knew, after the way they had parted earlier, that it certainly wasn’t January.

He turned slowly to find May Calendar standing behind him, keeping his expression neutral as he stood up. ‘Miss Calendar.’ He nodded politely.

It was a couple of hours since January had left the hotel, which meant the two sisters could have spoken when she’d returned home. Or not. Until he knew the answer to that, Max intended remaining detached. If wary.

Irritation flickered briefly in those deep green eyes as May looked at their surroundings. ‘Could we possibly go somewhere and talk?’ she requested abruptly.

‘Certainly,’ Max acquiesced evenly. ‘How about that table over there?’ He pointed to the far side of the room. ‘Perhaps John could get you a drink—?’

‘I would rather go somewhere a little more—private,’ May briskly interrupted him. ‘No offence.’ She gave John an apologetic grimace.

‘None taken,’ the barman assured her happily. ‘I wouldn’t be in here either if I didn’t work here!’

May gave an obliging laugh before once again making Max the focal point of that steady deep green gaze. ‘Mr Golding?’ she prompted pointedly.

He still had no idea whether May had spoken to January on her return earlier, or even if January would have confided in her eldest sister what had happened if they had spoken. But perhaps it would be better to err on the side of caution; if May intended hitting him, it would probably be better if it wasn’t done in a public place!

‘Let’s go upstairs to my suite,’ he suggested briskly, signing for his drink before escorting the eldest Calendar sister from the bar.

It was uncanny how physically alike the three sisters were, Max ruefully acknowledged, although he already knew from his two visits to the farm that May, as the eldest sister, was a force to be reckoned with, that she didn’t suffer fools gladly. More importantly, she wasn’t impressed by him in any way, shape or form!

Well, at the moment, after the way he had treated January earlier, he couldn’t say he was too impressed by himself either!

‘I believe one of the quieter lounges will do as well for my purpose,’ May informed him dryly as she paused in the reception area.

Perhaps she wasn’t going to hit him, after all…

She obviously had no intention of being alone with him in his hotel suite, either!

‘Fine.’ He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘There are some small conference rooms down this corridor.’ He indicated that May should precede him. ‘I’m sure the management won’t mind if we use one for a few minutes.’

Almost as beautiful as her sister—in his eyes January was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen!—May also had a determined tilt to her chin, a way of looking at him with those emerald-coloured eyes, as if she could see straight through him. Which wasn’t a very comfortable feeling, Max acknowledged with an inner squirm!

‘Fine,’ May finally agreed slowly, leading the way down the corridor.

This was the first time Max had seen the eldest Calendar sister out of the bulky sweaters and faded denims she wore to work in on the farm; she was stunning in the black jacket, thin emerald-coloured jumper and pencil-slim skirt, her legs as long and shapely as January’s in the heeled shoes.

Why the hell weren’t any of these women already married? Max wondered incredulously; it would have solved so much of the problem if they had been! Were all the single men in the area blind? Or was it the sisters who just weren’t interested?

May entered the conference room to turn and look at him, her mouth twisting derisively as she saw the way Max was watching her—almost as if she were able to read his thoughts. And found them amusing.

‘Many men have tried, and many men have failed!’ she drawled mockingly, an imp of mischief leaping now in the beauty of her eyes.

‘Why have they failed?’ Max didn’t even make a pretence of not understanding what she was talking about.

She shrugged. ‘Maybe they didn’t try hard enough.’

After the way he had deliberately alienated January earlier, this was not, Max told himself firmly, the sort of conversation he should be having with any of the Calendar sisters! ‘What can I do for you, Miss Calendar?’ he prompted hardly.

The mischief faded from her eyes, leaving them as cold and hard as the jewels they resembled. ‘Stay away from my sister,’ she told him flatly. ‘And please don’t pretend not to know which sister I’m talking about,’ she added as he would have spoken.

‘I wasn’t going to,’ he assured her bleakly. ‘But, unless I’m mistaken, after this evening January will never come near me, through choice, ever again!’ Hadn’t she said as much?

May looked at him with narrowed eyes for several long minutes. ‘What makes you say that?’ she finally murmured slowly.

‘That isn’t for me to say,’ he bit out tautly; was it possible the sisters hadn’t already spoken this evening, that May was here on some crusade of her own that had nothing to do with what had happened between January and himself earlier…?

May’s mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘Isn’t it a little late in the day for you to be acting gentlemanly?’

He stiffened at the deliberate insult. ‘You know, Miss Calendar, I believe I’ve already taken quite enough insults from your family for one day!’ he rasped.

That impish humour flickered once again in the depths of her green eyes. ‘That’s good.’ She nodded unrepentantly. ‘But, unless I’m mistaken, March hasn’t even started yet!’

Max gave a heavy sigh. ‘Tell her not to bother,’ he muttered tautly. ‘You know…’ he sat on the side of the long conference table ‘…I came here thinking this was just going to be another routine job, the usual buying and exchanging of contracts—no one warned me I was going to have to deal with the Calendar Mob!’ He shook his head self-disgustedly.

May gave a throaty chuckle. ‘We try to keep that one quiet!’

‘Your secret is out,’ Max informed her dryly. ‘And for some reason my employer, Jude Marshall, thinks you’re three little old ladies who sit and knit bedsocks in front of the fire on cold winter evenings!’ He shook his head derisively.

‘Really?’ May said interestedly. ‘Perhaps Mr Marshall should come here and do his own dirty work,’ she suggested grimly.

‘Perhaps he should.’ Max nodded; the same idea had occurred to him during the last few hours!

‘In the meantime—’ May’s gaze had became suddenly intent ‘—don’t hurt my sister, Mr Golding,’ she told him softly. ‘January has already been hurt enough, without adding you to the list!’

Max looked at her sharply. ‘What do you mean?’ Had there already been someone in January’s life, some man, who had let her down and hurt her? Somehow the thought of that did not please him one little bit!

‘Never mind.’ May gave an enigmatic shake of her head. ‘Unless your intentions are serious—Are they?’ She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

His mouth tightened. ‘No,’ he bit out harshly.

‘As I thought.’ She gave an acknowledging inclination of her head, picking up her bag in preparation of leaving. ‘Then my advice to you is to leave January alone.’

‘And if I don’t?’ he challenged warily.

May shrugged. ‘Then the Calendar Mob will have to pay you another visit!’

Max couldn’t help it, he smiled. ‘I wish I had had a sister like you to look out for me when I was younger!’ Instead he had been an only child, brought up alone by his father, a man who had also never trusted in love again.

But who, by that single act, had died alone, too…?

May gave him a rueful grimace. ‘Somehow, Max, I doubt you’ve ever let anyone do that,’ she murmured enigmatically. ‘Now, if you will excuse me? I’ve said all I came here to say.’ She walked over to the door, quietly letting herself out.

Now exactly what had she meant by that last remark? Max wondered frowningly. Had May guessed at the barrier he kept firmly around his heart? If so, how had she guessed?

Not that it particularly mattered; her message concerning January had come across loud and clear.

Well, May Calendar needn’t worry herself on his account; he had no intention of ever putting himself in a position of being close to January again. She was a definite no-no as far as he was concerned.

Except he couldn’t stop himself wondering about the implication May had given of some man having hurt January in the recent past…

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘WHAT do you want?’ January gasped, having opened the farmhouse door to find Max standing on the doorstep beside her muddy boots.

It was barely thirty-six hours since she had last seen this man, the memory of Sunday evening not even having begun to fade from her mind—in fact, she doubted it ever would. Although she was certainly going to try to erase it!

She certainly didn’t welcome the fact that Max had turned up at the farm when she was alone, March out at work, May having an appointment in town.

‘I asked what you want,’ she repeated hardly as Max made no effort to answer her, just standing on the doorstep staring at her, his face grim, a guarded look in those deep blue eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ he finally murmured harshly.

January gave him a scathing look. ‘Why shouldn’t I be okay?’ she scorned derisively.

Surely he didn’t think she would still be visibly upset about Sunday evening? If he did, he was going to be sadly disappointed! She had made a mistake, had totally humiliated herself as far as she was concerned, but there was no way she was going to let anyone see that. Certainly not Max. She had more pride than that.

Max thrust his hands into his denims pockets, the grimness of his expression not having eased in the slightest. ‘It was on the television, on the local news, that there was another attack late last night,’ he bit out tautly.

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t heard anything about that. But then, she didn’t have time to watch television in the day, and it was too early for March to have returned from work with any local gossip.

‘And?’ she prompted hardly.

He swallowed hard, grimacing. ‘They are being particularly cagey about this one, not giving out any names, or other details, just that the latest victim had been badly beaten but was recovering in hospital.’

January glared her impatience. ‘And?’ Really, why didn’t he just say what he had come here to say—and then leave? ‘I’m really sorry there’s been another attack, hope that the woman will be okay, but if you’ve come here to discuss buying the farm—’

‘I haven’t come here for that!’ he cut in harshly, a nerve pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw.

She gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘Then why are you here?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he snapped frustratedly.

Not to her, no. He had made it clear on Sunday evening—painfully clear, she recalled with an inner wince—that other than wanting to buy the farm he had no personal interest in her than as a possible casual bed-partner. A role she had made clear was completely unacceptable to her.

‘I’m afraid not.’ She gave a puzzled shake of her head.

Max gave a sigh of impatience. ‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I said?’

She gave a humourless smile. ‘When usually most people hang on your every word?’

He scowled darkly. ‘January, I’m more than aware of your opinion of me—’

‘I doubt that very much!’ she scorned; he couldn’t possibly know how angry she still was. With him. But more so with herself.

She had been so careful after the mistake she had made the previous year, been friendly but distant to any man who might have shown an interest in her, hadn’t even been out on a date since Ben had let her down so badly—only to end up making a complete idiot of herself over a man who was ten times more dangerous—to her heart!—than Ben had ever been!

Max gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Oh, I think I am. But I heard that radio announcement and I—Where are March and May?’

‘March is at work and May is at the dentist,’ she dismissed.

He nodded grimly at this explanation for her sisters’ absence.

‘Obviously I made a mistake,’ he dismissed hardly, preparing to leave.

January looked at him frowningly as he began to walk back to his car. He was arrogant. Hateful. Had hurt her pretty badly on Sunday evening. But the things he had said just now… Could he possibly—? Had he come here because—?

‘Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?’ she heard herself offer abruptly.

Max turned slowly back to look at her, his expression once again wary. ‘In the circumstances, that’s very kind of you,’ he finally murmured slowly.

She gave a shrug. ‘Didn’t you know—? I’m a kind person!’ she attempted to dismiss lightly.

Whereas, in reality, she had no idea why she had offered him a cup of coffee. It certainly wasn’t because she wanted to spend any time in his company; she usually came off worst in any encounter the two of them had, verbal or otherwise!

Then why had she made the offer? Perhaps because she suspected, from the things Max had said, that he had come here because he had thought it was either her, or one of her sisters, who had been attacked the previous night. And if that were the case…

‘The offer is only open for another ten seconds, Max,’ she told him derisively. ‘My toes are starting to freeze standing here!’ she added with a rueful glance down at her feet.

Max looked down, too, the frown clearing from his brow. ‘You really were serious about the bare feet, weren’t you?’ he murmured incredulously as he followed her into the kitchen, closing the door—and the extreme cold—behind him.

January glanced back from placing the kettle on the Aga. ‘I don’t tell lies, either, Max,’ she told him huskily.

And then wished she hadn’t. Whether her suspicion as to why he had come here was correct or not, she would rather not think of any of their previous conversations. Or anything else!

‘If you must know, my feet are bare because I was just on my way to my bedroom for a pair of dry socks when you knocked on the door; I was coming back from the barn when I slipped and fell into a snowdrift. The snow went in my boots,’ she explained abruptly.

Max raised dark brows. ‘Are you always this accident prone? First a ditch and now a snowdrift,’ he added mockingly.

‘Hmm.’ She grimaced. ‘I do seem to have bumped into more than my fair share of immovable objects just recently, don’t I?’ she dismissed self-derisively.

Max being the prime one!

Something that he seemed all too aware of as his mouth tightened. ‘January—’

‘Sit down, Max,’ she invited with a general wave in the direction of the kitchen table and chairs. ‘Coffee is almost ready.’ She turned back to the task in hand, deliberately keeping herself busy for the next few minutes, although she was very aware of Max as he sat at the table watching her every move.

Why had he come here today? Was it really, as she suspected, because he had been concerned that one of the sisters might have been the Night Striker’s latest victim? But if that were the reason, wouldn’t that have to mean that he actually cared—?

‘Did May tell you that she came to see me on Sunday evening?’

‘Yes, she told me,’ January confirmed lightly, picking up the two mugs of coffee before strolling over to place one of them in front of Max and sitting down opposite him. ‘Help yourself to sugar.’ She indicated the bowl that stood in the middle of the table. ‘Since our mother died, May has been the family champion, I’m afraid.’ The lightness of her tone totally belied the fact that she had been furious with May when she’d returned on Sunday evening and admitted where she had been.

Max gave a humourless smile. ‘She certai nly did a good job of warning me off you!’

‘A little too late, obviously.’ She nodded, staring down at her steaming mug of coffee.

May had been protecting March and January for as long as the two of them could remember, the two younger sisters, as they’d got older, often finding this fierce protectiveness irksome to say the least. January had been so furious at May’s uninvited intervention on her behalf on Sunday evening that the two sisters had only just started speaking to each other again.

Although, to give Max his due, he obviously hadn’t told her sister what had happened between the two of them a couple of hours before May’s arrival at the hotel.

‘When did your mother die?’ Max prompted huskily.