Max had no intention of getting caught in the middle of that argument, whatever it was; he knew from experience how volatile his younger sister could be. He had leapt to Janice’s defence too many times when they were both in their teens, only to find that he was the one left sporting a black eye or a split lip, while Janice had made up with whichever one of her boyfriends she had previously fallen out with.
‘I only started catering college in September,’ Sophie replied softly, long lashes lowered over those huge brown eyes.
‘What were you doing before that?’
She looked up at him, those deep brown eyes flashing her resentment at the question. ‘What does that have to do with what I’m doing now?’
Nothing at all. Except that Max knew that for some reason Sophie Carter didn’t want to tell him.
Maybe she had been married and was now divorced and branching out on her own? Or maybe she had needed to work for a few years in order to save up the money to put herself through college? Or—
‘Perhaps you could tell me a little about your sister and niece, so that I have some idea what presents to buy them when I go shopping tomorrow?’ Sophie’s eyes were still slightly red from when she had choked on the wine, her nose too, and her lips were slightly puffy.
Max found his gaze lingering a little too long on those puffy lips.
‘Mr Hamilton?’
‘Call me Max,’ he invited distractedly.
‘I would prefer to keep our relationship on a purely professional footing,’ she answered him primly.
And Max was rapidly coming to the realisation that he would much rather they didn’t, that he found Sophie Carter extremely intriguing!
A knee-jerk reaction to having realised Cynthia Maitland’s unwanted expectations of him?
Possibly.
Although he somehow doubted it.
As a self-made billionaire, Max had long ago become accustomed to, and irritated by, the pound signs that gleamed in a woman’s eyes whenever she looked at him.
The only thing gleaming in Sophie Carter’s expressive eyes when she looked at him was disapproval. For men in general? Or was it something specific about him, in particular, she didn’t like or approve of?
And why the hell should it matter to him, one way or the other, what Sophie Carter did or didn’t think of him?
It didn’t was the answer to that question.
He shrugged. ‘Janice likes silk scarves. And Amy is into horses rather than dolls. Or at least she was the last time I spoke to her.’
‘Your sister’s colouring?’
‘Janice is tall, with the same colouring as mine. Except she’s beautiful, of course,’ he added drily.
Sophie’s gaze dropped from meeting that probing green one as she inwardly acknowledged that Max Hamilton was extremely beautiful, in a purely alpha male and masculine way, of course. That overlong ebony hair was silky soft, his face all hard and masculine angles, his body appearing even more so beneath that perfectly tailored suit and white silk shirt.
Yes, Max Hamilton was most definitely a beautiful alpha male.
He was also way, way out of her league.
And, remembering the Cathy faux pas, that last realisation didn’t even merit so much as a second thought! Certainly not while Sophie was still in Max Hamilton’s disturbing company, at least.
‘I think it’s time I left now, and allowed you to get on with the rest of your evening.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Sophie eyed him irritably. ‘Maybe I am?’
‘Are you?’
She frowned. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I really don’t think that’s any of your business, Mr Hamilton.’ As she had considered it absolutely none of his business that she had given up her original catering course four years ago in order to care for her very ill mother.
It might be none of Max’s business, but he wanted to know anyway—wanted to know if Sophie Carter was involved with anyone right now.
‘I really do have to go now,’ she insisted as she stood up.
Max also rose to his feet, once again towering over her. ‘You haven’t finished your wine.’
She gave a self-derisive smile. ‘I may not be driving, but I think I’ll pass on the wine, after all, if you don’t mind.’
Max found that he did mind, that he had been enjoying himself talking to the unexpectedly outspoken and equally as intriguing Sophie Carter.
Most women, he had found, tended to be an open book. At least, as far as their interest in him was concerned. Cynthia had gone one step further by actually expecting commitment, of course, but otherwise he knew it was his bank balance that was a woman’s primary interest in him.
Not only did Ms Carter seem to disapprove of him—or his wealth?—but she also remained something of an enigma herself. It was a long time since Max had found himself this interested in learning more about a certain woman.
And that woman happened to be the same one with whom he would be spending the run up to Christmas. ‘Will you also be the one doing the cooking for us over Christmas?’
‘The food is already ordered and due to be delivered before your sister and niece arrive on Friday.’ Sophie nodded. ‘Unless you would prefer to find someone else to do the actual catering?’
‘Not at all,’ Max assured smoothly. ‘You don’t have family or friends you would rather be with?’
‘I already told you, I’m an orphan.’
That wasn’t exactly what Max had wanted to know.
But perhaps Christmas this year, with the presence of the feisty Sophie Carter, wouldn’t be just another day to him, as it had been for more years than Max cared to remember.
CHAPTER THREE
‘LET ME HELP YOU with those!’
Sophie almost dropped all the bags and parcels she was struggling to carry into Max Hamilton’s apartment at hearing the unexpected sound of his voice somewhere in front and above her. Having spent most of the afternoon shopping—on his credit card!—she hadn’t expected him to have returned home from his office just yet.
‘Did you buy the whole of the toyshop or just half of it?’ he drawled ruefully as he took the parcels out of her arms to reveal that he must have been home for some time to have changed into a casual black cashmere sweater and faded jeans, his overlong dark hair as sexily tousled as ever.
And, if that was even possible, he was looking even more deliciously gorgeous than he had yesterday in that perfectly tailored suit and silk shirt.
‘Just half of it.’ Sophie eyed him ruefully as she carried the shopping bags through to the elegant cream-and-brown sitting room, now dominated by an eight foot tall and fully decorated Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room beside the fireplace. ‘Perhaps you would like to help me wrap them all up?’ she added derisively.
He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘I would, as it happens.’
Sophie gave him a startled look; she hadn’t actually been serious in the suggestion—had considered it a threat rather than a genuine option. ‘You would?’
‘Why not?’ He placed the parcels down on the three-seater sofa. ‘You’ve obviously been busy already today.’
He gave the tree a pointed glance, coloured lights sparkling amongst the thick, green, sweet-smelling bowers and the red-and-gold decorations, with an elegant fairy adorning the top branch.
Sophie had also decorated the tree in the entrance hall today, but with a silver-and-red theme and a silver star twinkling on the top.
‘I have to say, Sophie, that I’m really impressed with all your hard work so far.’ Max Hamilton nodded his approval. ‘The least I can do is to help giftwrap the presents after you’ve been out and chosen all of them.’
Sophie really had been joking earlier; she had no real desire to share wrapping Christmas presen
ts with Max Hamilton, of all people.
Years of wrapping presents with her mother, enjoying the laughter, the pleasure and later the odd glass of wine, told her it was far too intimate a pastime to share with a man who made her feel nervous at the best of times. And so far there had been very few of those between the two of them!
Max didn’t know whether to be amused or enchanted by Sophie’s appearance in a red coat, the hood of the coat edged with white fur. She wore fur-trimmed gloves on her elegant hands, and there was even fur topping the calf-high boots worn over her jeans. She looked like a very petite and cuddly Mrs Santa Claus!
Enchanted probably wasn’t a good thing when Max already found Sophie far too intriguing for their current situation as employer and temporary employee.
But she really had transformed his home in a short space of time, the smell of fresh pine having hit his nose the moment he’d entered the apartment an hour or so ago. The tree decorations were tasteful rather than garish, the coloured lights twinkling merrily when he’d switched them on, and there were yet more sprigs of fresh holly adorning the pictures in the sitting room.
There were even three beautifully embroidered stockings draped across the arm of one of the chairs, no doubt placed there ready to be hung up for Janice, Amy and himself on Christmas Eve.
And she had returned his handkerchief to him, ironed as well as laundered!
‘I’m being paid—very generously, I might add!—to buy and giftwrap the Christmas presents for your sister and niece,’ Sophie Carter reminded him tartly.
Max found himself irritated that she had deliberately reminded him of that fact. ‘Nothing for me?’ he drawled.
Those deep brown eyes widened. ‘You would hardly be giving yourself a present!’
He quirked a mocking brow. ‘Does that mean you didn’t buy me a present, either?’
‘Why on earth would I do th...? Very funny, Mr Hamilton.’ She placed the half a dozen or so bags down on the sofa next to the parcels, along with the wrapping paper and labels, before straightening.
Max found himself wondering what sort of present Sophie Carter might buy him.
He usually received an expensive shirt, or maybe a sweater or aftershave, if there happened to be a woman in his life at Christmastime, but Sophie was a student, and obviously didn’t have a lot of money, so what sort of gift would she choose? Something inexpensive but personal? Or maybe—
Damn it, Max had found himself thinking of his employee far too much today already!
Sally was well on her way to Canada by now and, without the help of his efficient PA, his own day had been even busier than usual. But still he had found time to sit and muse about the fiery-haired Sophie Carter...
He knew from their conversation the previous day that she was an orphan, aged twenty-four and at catering college.
What he still didn’t know was if she had a man in her life; the fact that Sophie was willing to spend Christmas cooking for his family would seem to imply that she didn’t.
Max had deliberately chosen to spend his Christmases skiing the last ten years, since Janice had married Tom and moved to the States, and he had been only too glad to do so. Very occasionally he had taken a woman with him, but more often than not he had preferred to go alone, well away from all the festivities and anyone who knew him.
Sophie Carter didn’t seem to have any choice but to spend Christmas alone, possibly without any presents to open up on Christmas morning either, except maybe something from friends?
It made Max feel guilty at the amount of expensive gifts she had gone out and chosen for Janice and Amy today. Totally illogically, he realised; it wasn’t up to him to provide a happy Christmas or presents for every waif and stray who crossed his path. Even if he wanted to.
Which he didn’t, he told himself firmly.
Max had been eighteen and Janice sixteen when their parents were killed in a car crash on Christmas Eve, hit by a drunk driver on their way home from doing some last-minute shopping for presents.
After that Max had only gone through the motions of Christmas for Janice’s sake, and had been perfectly happy not to have to once his sister was married and living in New York.
He certainly didn’t want to involve himself in the preparations for this Christmas any more than he needed to either.
‘Yes, very funny,’ he finally answered Sophie tersely. ‘As you said yesterday that you’re using public transport, you may as well get off home now; you can wrap the presents up tomorrow.’
Sophie had no idea what Max Hamilton had been thinking about for the past few minutes as he’d scowled darkly but, whatever it was, they weren’t pleasant thoughts. He also seemed to have rethought his offer to help her giftwrap his sister’s and niece’s Christmas presents.
‘Fine,’ she accepted just as abruptly. ‘Maybe you could just write out a dozen or so labels for Janice and Amy tonight, ready to go on the gifts tomorrow?’
‘Of course.’ He nodded, his expression arrogantly remote, now looking every inch the billionaire CEO he was.
‘I’ll just...’ Sophie broke off what she had been about to say as his mobile began to ring. ‘I’ll leave you to get that.’
Max took the mobile from the pocket of his jeans and answered the call.
Leaving Sophie in something of a quandary as to whether or not she should just leave him to it. It seemed a little rude to just leave without saying goodbye, and yet she also felt as if he had already dismissed her. And not very politely at that!
As he didn’t seem to be being polite to whoever had telephoned him either
‘We’ve already talked about this, Cynthia, and the answer is still no.’
Cynthia?
‘No, I do not want you to come over this evening so we can talk about it!’ he snapped decisively. ‘Why not? Because I already have someone here with me, that’s why!’
That ‘someone’ being Sophie?
Which was hardly fair, or completely truthful either, when Max seemed to be implying that she was here on a personal basis rather than a business one.
‘That sort of language is not in the least attractive, Cynthia. Goodbye to you too.’ Max closed the mobile’s cover with a decisive snap before putting it back in his jeans pocket. ‘Well?’ His brow was lowered and there was a scowl between his glittering green eyes as he turned to look challengingly across the room at Sophie, displeasure burning off him in waves.
Displeasure Sophie had no interest in having turned against her now that the hapless Cynthia had made an undignified exit!
‘Well what?’ She feigned an innocent expression.
An innocence that didn’t fool Max in the slightest, if the contemptuous curl of his top lip was any indication. ‘You seemed to have something to say on most subjects yesterday, so why not this one?’ he bit out scornfully.
The phrase ‘spoiling for a fight’ came to mind.
‘I don’t think it’s my place to have an opinion on the way in which you conduct your private life, Mr Hamilton.’ Sophie gave a dismissive shrug.
‘That didn’t seem to prevent you from doing exactly that yesterday,’ he drawled mockingly.
No, it hadn’t. And he had done very little so far in their acquaintance to dispel any of those preconceived ideas she’d had of him being a selfish and self-obsessed individual, after accidentally overhearing his conversation with Sally two days ago. This latest conversation with a woman called Cynthia hadn’t exactly endeared him to her either.
‘My opinions are my own, I hope, Mr Hamilton,’ she countered calmly.
His eyes narrowed to glittering green slits. ‘I asked you to call me Max.’
She nodded. ‘And I told you I would prefer to keep our association on professional terms.’
Max ran a frustrated hand through his hair, knowing his anger was direc
ted towards Cynthia, and her inability to accept that things were over between the two of them, rather than at Sophie.
Hell, he and Cynthia had only been out together three or four times, and it had been pure coincidence that the two of them happened to be going to the same ski resort over the Christmas holidays. At least Max had thought it was, until Cynthia had revealed otherwise during their telephone conversations yesterday. He had certainly never given her, or any other woman, the idea that he was interested in settling down with them.
The slightly reproving expression now on Sophie Carter’s face told him that she thought otherwise. And Max certainly didn’t appreciate feeling as if he needed to defend himself, and his actions, to her.
‘Exactly how do you expect to be able to continue doing that when you’re going to be in my apartment over most of Christmas?’ he taunted challengingly.
Sophie had been asking herself the same question since their conversation the evening before. But only in as far as she was an outsider looking in. ‘Quite easily. I’ll be busy in the kitchen most of the time, and you and your family will be in the rest of your apartment.’
‘And what about your own meals?’
‘They will also be eaten in the kitchen, once I’ve finished serving you and your family.’
Max really wasn’t happy with the idea of Sophie waiting on them, let alone sitting in his kitchen eating her meals on her own. He doubted his sister would be too happy with that arrangement either, if she knew Sophie’s circumstances, which he had no doubt she would within a day of meeting Sophie. Janice’s years living in America had made her more open and friendly than her previous English reserve. Than Max’s own English reserve.
‘We’ll see,’ he answered non-committally now. He’d had more than enough arguments already this evening, this latest telephone conversation with Cynthia having left a nasty taste in his mouth.
As well as convincing Sophie that he was even more of a selfish bastard than she had already thought he was.
If that was even possible...
Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the MistletoeSnowed in With Her BossA Diamond for Christmas Page 3
