Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the MistletoeSnowed in With Her BossA Diamond for Christmas

by Carole Mortimer

  Not that he thought Sophie had ever lied to him—on the contrary, she could be too damned honest for comfort at times. It was just that the more she tried to fob him off, the more determined Max became to meet this Henry and judge the situation for himself.

  He gave a shake of his head. ‘I really can’t see what your problem is about the two of us meeting.’

  ‘I don’t remember asking to be introduced to your friend Cynthia,’ Sophie came back heatedly.

  ‘Ah, I’d forgotten, you must have heard my side of that telephone conversation with her a couple of days ago,’ Max acknowledged ruefully. ‘Cynthia had ideas about our previous relationship that in no way coincided with my own,’ he dismissed grimly. ‘I’ve only been out with her a few times, and I haven’t so much as seen her for over a week.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me,’ Sophie assured dismissively.

  ‘Any more than you need to explain yourself to me in regards to Henry?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Max’s eyes narrowed at her vehemence. ‘Is Cynthia the reason you’ve been so determined to keep your distance from me?’

  Sophie gave an inelegant snort. ‘That doesn’t seem to have worked out too well for me so far, now does it?’

  Max gave a satisfied grin at the truth of that statement; he didn’t seem to be able to keep his hands off Sophie for longer than a few minutes at a time, and she wasn’t exactly fighting him off either. ‘The difference being that I’m no longer even seeing Cynthia, whereas you’re actually sharing an apartment with Henry,’ he pointed out softly.

  Sophie drew in a frustrated breath. ‘You really are the most persistently stubborn man I have ever...’

  ‘Ever what?’ Max prompted huskily as Sophie broke off the statement abruptly, her cheeks blushing a fiery red.

  Ever known she was falling in love with, Sophie inwardly acknowledged, disgusted by her weakness.

  The only man she had ever known she was falling in love with.

  Max Hamilton, of all men.

  She had to be a masochist to have ever allowed such a thing to happen.

  Allowed it?

  It had crept up on her these past few days without her even realising it was happening.

  And now it was too late, she acknowledged with an inward groan.

  Because, as Max steadily held her gaze with his as his head slowly began to lower towards hers, Sophie knew that she was already in love with him.

  Her knees actually went weak at the first touch of Max’s lips against hers, and she might even have collapsed at his feet in their handmade Italian leather shoes if she hadn’t reached up to grasp onto the collar of his jacket.

  It was certainly impossible for her to pull back from responding to that dizzying kiss. Or to resist when Max continued to kiss her as he took the keys to the flat out of her hand. Although she did manage to make a throaty murmur of protest as he unlocked the door and gently pushed her inside.

  ‘No Henry,’ Max murmured with satisfaction as the darkness and silence of the apartment told him that the two of them were alone.

  Unless Henry had already gone to bed? Which, as far as Max was concerned, was just as good as the two of them being alone.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do this again for hours,’ he acknowledged throatily before backing Sophie up against the wall, capturing both her hands in his and raising them above her head before taking hungry possession of her mouth.

  The hardness of Max’s arousal pressing up against her caused a responding ache and dampness between Sophie’s own thighs as she returned the heat of his kisses, their lips tasting, tongues duelling, teeth biting, the two of them hungry for each other. For being closer still, as Max easily dispensed with both of their coats before pressing into her hotly.

  Sophie was breathing hard by the time Max finally raised his head to look down at her with glittering eyes. ‘Bedroom?’ he prompted economically.

  Definitely not the bedroom, Sophie had enough sense left to decide; not only were there recriminating photographs of Sally and Josh in there, but Henry’s noticeable absence gave her the feeling that he was currently curled up asleep on the bed. No doubt in feline protest at being left on his own for much of today!

  ‘Sitting room,’ she substituted breathlessly.

  ‘Take me there,’ he encouraged throatily as he took a firm hold of her hand.

  Sophie found her way down the hallway in the darkness—darkness was good, less chance this way of Max seeing anything he shouldn’t.

  Besides, it wasn’t completely dark in the sitting room, the layer of snow on the ground outside causing a reflection of light to glow eerily through the windows, giving everything a strange grey effect, including Max and Sophie.

  ‘Remember that ju-jitsu move you made on me earlier this evening?’ he prompted huskily.

  Sophie looked up at Max as she replied uncertainly, ‘Yes.’ Max’s teeth gleamed down at her in a grin in the darkness even as Sophie felt her feet leave the floor, the breath knocked out of her lungs as she landed flat on her back on the sofa. ‘Max!’

  ‘Fair’s fair,’ he murmured with satisfaction, taking his weight on his elbows as he slowly lowered himself down on top of her, the two of them touching from chest to thighs as he claimed her lips once again.

  Sophie felt surrounded by Max even as she gave herself up to the pleasure of that kiss. To his heat. His smell. The sheer immediacy of him.

  She was completely lost to that pleasure as she felt the warmth of his hand cupping her breast beneath her sweater. The soft pad of his thumb was a light, and then harder, caress against her already roused nipple. His lips roamed the length of her throat, tasting, biting and murmuring his approval as she let out a low groan of pleasure as he pushed up her sweater. She had only the thin barrier of her bra between her flesh and his as Max suckled one of her nipples into the heat of his mouth.

  ‘White or cream?’ he murmured seconds later as his kissed his way across to its twin.

  ‘Cream.’ Sophie didn’t even pretend not to understand him.

  ‘Are you wearing a matching thong?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I need to see that!’ Max groaned, heat having coursed through his body, his arousal hot and pulsing, just visualising Sophie in a thong.

  His gaze held hers as he moved slowly down her body until he knelt between her parted thighs. He unfastened the button and zip of her trousers before folding the material back, his breath catching in his throat, mouth going dry, as he revealed the scrap of cream lace covering the neatly trimmed thatch of curls between her thighs.

  ‘You’re beautiful, Sophie,’ he murmured huskily as he sat back to slide her trousers down to her thighs, able to see the thong more clearly now—a small triangle of lace which barely covered those fiery red curls, with an inch-wide band of lace about her waist.

  ‘Turn over,’ he encouraged throatily even as he shifted sideways to allow the movement. ‘Please, Sophie,’ he urged gruffly as she hesitated.

  Sophie’s cheeks were as fiery red as her curls as she allowed Max to remove her trousers completely before she rolled onto her front, looking back over her shoulder as she heard Max’s indrawn breath.

  ‘You have the most gorgeous bottom, Sophie,’ he complimented even as his hands moved to caress it.

  ‘Max...’ It was Sophie’s turn to gasp, her fingers clenching, nails biting into the cushion beneath her, as she now felt the cool touch of Max’s lips against the heat of her skin.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured admiringly, his breath a hot caress against her flesh as he kissed the base of her spine. ‘Can I—? What the hell?’ He gave a sudden harsh cry.

  Sophie was too lost in her pleasurable euphoria to realise what had happened at first, and then it took her a minute or so to realise that Henry had cho
sen that moment to show himself by launching himself onto Max’s back.

  Claws out, no doubt!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SOPHIE WAS SITTING on the edge of the sofa, still struggling to pull her trousers back on and fasten them by the time Max had located and flicked on the light switch. He stood looking searchingly around the room for whatever it was that had attacked him, green eyes narrowing as he located the black cat sitting on the back of one of the armchairs. The cat’s back arched as he gave a disapproving hiss in the direction of their late-night visitor.

  ‘Bad cat, Henry,’ Sophie scolded, fully dressed again now as she moved to shoo him off the chair and he ran and hid beneath the coffee table.

  ‘Henry is a cat?’ Max exploded disbelievingly.

  Sophie froze as she realised her mistake. A mistake that could cost her dearly. Could cost Sally dearly too, if Max made the connection between them at last.

  ‘Sophie?’ Max prompted harshly.

  She gave a pained wince, feeling the colour drain from her cheeks as she slowly turned to face Max and instantly saw that the indulgent lover of a few minutes ago had been replaced with the cold and arrogant Max Hamilton, billionaire CEO and owner of Hamilton Enterprises.

  ‘I’m waiting for an answer, Sophie.’ The softness of his tone sounded even more dangerous than his previously harsh one.

  She moistened her lips before speaking. ‘I’m...I’m cat-sitting for...for a friend while she’s away over Christmas.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked!’ There was no sign of so much as a crack in Max’s icy veneer.

  Sophie swallowed before confirming heavily, ‘Yes, Henry is a cat.’

  ‘And you deliberately let me think—’

  ‘I never lied to you.’

  ‘You lied by omission!’

  ‘You assumed Henry was a man.’

  ‘And you allowed me to continue to assume it.’

  ‘Yes.’ She sighed at the cold accusation in his tone.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just... I thought it best... It just seemed the wisest thing to do, in the circumstances!’

  Those arctic green eyes narrowed to icy slits. ‘And what circumstances are those? Damn it; why couldn’t you have just told me that Henry was a cat and be done with—’ He broke off, becoming very still as he now eyed Sophie speculatively. ‘What’s your friend’s name?’ he prompted softly.

  Yep, there was definitely going to be trouble, Sophie acknowledged with another wince, in all probability for both Sally and herself.

  ‘Answer me, Sophie!’ Max snapped harshly.

  ‘This is all my fault. Sally had absolutely nothing to do with it.’ She rushed into speech. ‘She— We— I thought it best if you didn’t know of the connection, then if anything went wrong, if I made a mess of things, there would be no comeback on Sally.’

  Max continued to look at her coldly. ‘What connection would that be?’

  Trust Max to have latched onto that part of her statement!

  Just one glance at the cold implacability of Max’s expression and those icily glittering green eyes was enough to warn Sophie against even attempting to continue to deceive him about her family connection to Sally. Any further prevarication really wasn’t an option when he was already so angry. And it could result in her getting Sally fired from her job as Max’s PA. If that hadn’t happened already, as far as Max was concerned.

  Her gaze lowered from meeting his piercing green one. ‘Sally is my cousin.’

  ‘Your cousin?’ he repeated softly.

  ‘She and my Aunt Rachel and Uncle William are the only relatives I have, yes,’ Sophie confirmed huskily.

  ‘In that case, why didn’t you go to Canada and spend Christmas with them?’

  ‘I wasn’t... I didn’t feel up to travelling all that way yet, let alone— I offered to look after Henry instead,’ she stated firmly.

  Max continued to look at the top of Sophie’s bent head for several long seconds before he turned away abruptly. He moved to stand in front of one of the windows, his clenched fists thrust into the pockets of his trousers as he absorbed, and tried to make sense of, this conversation.

  Sophie was the cousin of his PA, Sally.

  She was cat-sitting her cousin’s pet while Sally and her parents were in Canada meeting her fiancé’s family.

  Leaving Sophie to ‘deliver Christmas’ to Max’s apartment.

  His shoulders tensed as he slowly turned. ‘You either overheard my conversation with Sally that day in her office, or Sally repeated it to you.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

  ‘Sally would never do that,’ she assured him heatedly. ‘I—I was meeting Sally for lunch that day and I overheard the two of you talking. I thought it best to wait outside in the hallway till you’d finished,’ she admitted gruffly.

  ‘And in the meantime you eavesdropped on a private conversation!’ Max’s top lip curled back contemptuously.

  ‘Not intentionally! I just— I had arrived at Sally’s office a little early for lunch and the two of you were talking and I didn’t want to interrupt. I couldn’t help overhearing what you were discussing and—’

  ‘I should take a breath, Sophie,’ he advised scathingly.

  She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Sally had nothing to do with the decision not to tell you of our family connection; that really was all my idea. Sally was short of time and I had nothing else to do over Christmas except look after Henry, and so I offered to organise Christmas for you and your family.’

  ‘To “deliver Christmas” was how you described it that first day, if I remember correctly,’ Max rasped harshly. ‘A direct quote from part of my conversation in Sally’s office that day. Which is no doubt the reason you were so damned contemptuous towards me when we first met.’

  ‘I thought you were just a Bah Humbug. I had no idea then of the reason why you’ve avoided celebrating Christmas for so many years,’ she defended uncomfortably.

  But she had realised the reason now, Max accepted, after Janice’s indiscreet comments about their parents both dying at Christmas sixteen years ago.

  None of which changed their current situation in the slightest.

  ‘Perhaps in future that will teach you not to make snap judgements about peo—’ Max broke off his scathing comment to look at Sophie searchingly. ‘You said that Sally and her parents are your only relatives?’

  She gave a puzzled frown. ‘Yes.’

  Max remembered that Sally had taken a week’s compassionate leave during the summer so that she could spend some time with her cousin, whose mother had just died after a long and painful illness. And then there had been another day off following that week, so that Sally could attend her aunt’s funeral.

  And Sophie’s unfinished comment just now regarding her desire not to travel yet.

  Was it possible that her aunt had been Sophie’s mother?

  ‘When did your own parents die, Sophie?’ he prompted huskily.

  She frowned. ‘I don’t see...’

  ‘Humour me,’ Max bit out abruptly.

  ‘My father died fifteen years ago, and my mother...my mother died six months ago,’ she acknowledged huskily, her gaze not meeting his even though her chin rose challengingly. ‘It’s because she was so ill for so long that I didn’t finish my original college course.’

  Max was angry with Sophie for not telling him of her connection to Sally. And even more furious with her for allowing him to believe that Henry was a man.

  At the same time he couldn’t help but feel compassion for her recent loss. Because it was recent; losing a beloved parent was an ache, a hollowness that could never be truly filled. And he, of all people, should know how it felt to lose your parents, and to spend that first Christmas without them. Especially so when it had
been just Sophie and her mother for so many years.

  There were also his own strange, as yet inexplicable desires, feelings even, for Sophie. Feelings he was just too angry at the moment to even try to comprehend. Feelings that made him even angrier about this situation, if anything.

  One thing he did know, no matter how cross he might be with Sophie right now—he had no intention of leaving her here to spend Christmas alone with that hissing, spitting fur ball!

  He drew in a deep breath. ‘Does Sally have a travel basket for Henry?’

  Sophie looked startled. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You may well have cause to be before this Christmas is over,’ Max warned grimly. ‘But all I’m interested in knowing for now is whether or not you have a basket we can put that monster into—’ he shot Henry a quelling glance as he saw the black cat had slunk out from beneath the coffee table and was now eyeing him balefully ‘—while we drive back to my apartment.’

  Sophie wasn’t just startled now; she was dumbstruck. Was Max seriously suggesting that she should not only continue to spend the rest of Christmas with him and his family at his apartment, but that she should also bring along the belligerent Henry to join them, too?

  Because he wanted her to spend Christmas with him?

  Doubtful, after this recent conversation.

  It was more likely to be because she had been hired to ‘deliver Christmas’ to him and his family and Max still expected her to do exactly that.

  ‘The snow is falling heavier than ever, Sophie,’ Max rasped at her continued silence. ‘Which means we have to leave soon if we’re going to get back at all.’

  It was the latter, of course, Sophie accepted heavily. She really shouldn’t harbour any illusions of it being anything else, despite their earlier intimacy.

  She might have fallen in love with Max in just a few short days, but he certainly didn’t feel anything approaching that emotion for her.

  And he never would...

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘WHO WOULD HAVE thought that a five-year-old could make a lapdog—or, in this case, cat—out of the fur ball?’ Max mused as he entered the kitchen of his apartment. He’d just spent several minutes in the sitting room watching Amy carry Henry around in her arms as if he were a baby while the cat looked up at her adoringly. ‘He’s a disgrace to the feline race!’