New Year Kisses. Кэрол Мортимер

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      ‘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 certainly 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.

      January looked up. ‘I was three, so…twenty-two years ago now,’ she acknowledged with a pained frown.

      Max frowned darkly. ‘That must have been—’ He shook his head. ‘I was five when my mother left,’ he said abruptly.

      And as instantly regretted the admission, January could see by the surprise in his eyes he wasn’t quick enough to hide, his expression becoming guarded. Making January wonder if he had ever confided that to anyone before today. Max certainly didn’t come across as a man who was comfortable confiding his personal life to other people.

      ‘Shouldn’t you go and put something on your feet?’ he prompted with unwarranted harshness.

      ‘Yes, I should,’ January acknowledged lightly, standing up. ‘I won’t be long,’ she told him as she left the room.

      But long enough to give him chance to put his defences back in order; the last thing she needed was to feel any sort of empathy with Max Golding—worse, to actually feel sorry for him!

      He wouldn’t welcome the emotion anyway. Any more than he would welcome having her in love with him.

      Which, she now realised, despite all those hateful things he had said to her on Sunday evening, she most certainly was.

      May, it СКАЧАТЬ