His Cinderella Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  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?

&nb
sp; 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.

  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.

  We
ll, 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!