His Cinderella Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  May still didn’t look convinced, frowning up at her concernedly. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be going out again later this evening?’

  January blinked, no longer able to hold her sister’s gaze. ‘Change of plan,’ she dismissed. ‘Look, it’s cold out here, why don’t you go back inside?’ she suggested with an encouraging smile. ‘I promise I won’t be long.’

  ‘Okay,’ May sighed. ‘I’ll have a mug of hot tea waiting for you when you get back.’

  January gave an inner sigh of relief at her sister’s belated capitulation, starting the noisy tractor engine before giving her sister a friendly wave and driving out of the farmyard.

  She just needed some time to herself. Time to work out exactly what had been happening the last couple of days. Time to consider exactly what Max Golding had been doing the last couple of days!

  Because, despite what he had said before she’d abruptly ended their telephone conversation, she couldn’t help thinking that he had to have known all the time that she was one of the Calendar sisters.

  Was that the real reason he had shown such a marked interest in her? Had it all been some sort of devious plan on his part, to divide the sisters and, in doing so, perhaps conquer?

  That was her worst fear, the dread that held her in partial shock at the realization of exactly who he was. Because last night, as the two of them had kissed, January had known that she was falling in love with Max, that perhaps she already was in love with him.

  He was like no other man she had ever known, was possessed of a self-confidence that was totally reassuring, was obviously intelligent, as well as sophisticated, his wealth beyond question.

  She had simply been swept off her feet by him!

  But was she meant to have been? That was the question that plagued her battered and bruised heart.

  One thing she knew for certain: once he had had time to think this thing through, it wouldn’t take Max too long to make an appearance at the farm. Which was another good reason for her to make herself scarce from the farm as much as possible over the next few days.

  Although that didn’t appear much of a likelihood as she turned the tractor round a sharp bend in the snow-covered track and found a car creeping slowly along from the other direction, blocking her own way in the process, the person behind the steering wheel visibly Max Golding!

  January braked so sharply to avoid actually driving into him that the tractor instantly came to a shuddering halt, Max obviously breaking at the same time, the wheels on his car not having quite the same traction as the vehicle skidded slightly but didn’t quite go off the track.

  January stared at him in absolute horror; the last thing she had expected was that Max would actually drive out to the farm almost immediately after she had so abruptly terminated their telephone call. She had thought she had some hours to gather her own scattered defences, possibly twenty-four hours if Max needed the same time to think that she did.

  But as he climbed out of the car she realized how wrong she had been. He was no longer wearing the ‘tailored suit and handmade shoes’ that May had taken such glee in watching him get muddy yesterday—and that had struck such a chord with January last night when she’d thought of them. Now he was dressed in a thick blue sweater and denims, heavy hiking boots to protect his feet—obviously he had learnt his lesson about suitable clothing for visiting a working farm the previous day!

  Her fingers clenched about the steering wheel as he approached the tractor, his expression grim. What was he going to say to her? What were they going to say to each other?

  Attack is better than defence, she remembered her father once telling them, pushing open the cab door to climb down onto the running-board before lowering herself down into the snow, her head back challengingly as she waited for Max to reach her side.

  ‘I didn’t know, January,’ came his first abrupt comment.

  She gave a humourless smile. ‘Didn’t know what, Mr Golding?’ she scorned. ‘That my surname is Calendar? That I’m one of the three sisters who owns the farm the corporation you work for is trying to buy out? Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe!’ she derided hardly.

  And she did find it hard. It seemed too much of a coincidence that Max should turn out to be the lawyer who had sent that initial letter on behalf of the big American corporation he obviously worked for. That he was the same man who had visited May on the farm yesterday. The same man who was trying to persuade them into selling the farm.

  Too much of a coincidence, in those circumstances, that the two of them should have met at all. Even allowing for such a coincidence, it was doubly hard to believe that Max would have made such a beeline for her in the way that he had if it weren’t for the fact that he already knew she was one of the sisters who was proving so intractable to the financial offers he was making on behalf of the Marshall Corporation.

  Max’s expression was grim. ‘I can’t help what you believe, I can only repeat that until a short time ago I genuinely had no idea what your surname was, or who you are.’

  And she could only repeat—inwardly, at least—that she didn’t believe him!

  She gave him another scathing glance. ‘What are you doing here, Mr Golding? I’m sure my sister May has already made it more than plain that we aren’t interested—’

  ‘Will you stop calling me by my surname in that contemptuous way?’ he protested irritably. ‘It was Max before. And I’m still Max.’

  Not in the same way, he wasn’t. He was the enemy now. The known enemy. Untrustworthy. Worse, he was devious.

  ‘And, yes, your sister May did make it quite clear to me yesterday that you aren’t interested in selling the farm,’ he continued impatiently. ‘Now that I know of the family connection, the likeness between the two of you, apart from the colour of your eyes, is quite remarkable,’ he allowed heavily. ‘I simply wasn’t looking for that likeness when I visited the farm yesterday.’

  ‘No?’ January derided disbelievingly. ‘Then you’re going to get even more of a shock when—or if!—you meet March; “like three peas in a pod”, our father used to say about us,’ she told him dismissively.

  ‘I said there was a likeness, January; the way you look, the sound of your voice, is utterly unique,’ he assured her evenly.

  Her mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘Of course it is,’ she humoured scathingly. ‘Well, if you wouldn’t mind moving your vehicle out of my way; some of us have work to do.’

  Max looked at her closely, a frown between his eyes as his gaze narrowed. ‘Is that bump on your head from the accident earlier?’

  Her gloved hand moved up instinctively to cover the discolouration at her temple. She would be lying if she claimed that it didn’t hurt, because it did; she just had no intention of discussing her injury—or her inner pain—with Max Golding!

  ‘January?’ he prompted sharply.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she confirmed dismissively. ‘If you turn your car around in the gateway just behind you—’

  ‘January, I am not interested in discussing turning the car around,’ he bit out in fiercely measured tones.

  Her eyes flashed a warning. ‘Well, I’m not interested in discussing anything else with you—which pretty well leaves us with nothing left to say to each other!’ She turned back to the tractor.

  Only to have her arm clasped between steely fingers as Max swung her back round to face him.

  ‘I have several things I want to say to you,’ he told her forcefully, blue eyes glittering dangerously. ‘Firstly, I repeat my claim that I had no idea of your connection with the Calendar farm—’

  ‘And I repeat that I don’t believe you!’ she came back harshly.

  Max became suddenly still, his eyes so pale a blue now they looked almost grey. ‘I don’t tell lies, January,’ he bit out coldly. ‘Have you seen a doctor about that bump on the head?’ he changed the subject frowningly.

  Her mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘Careful, you’re starting to sound like May again!’

 
; His mouth tightened at her deliberate barb. ‘If she’s as concerned about you as I am then I think I like your elder sister.’

  January’s cheeks became angrily flushed as she gave a humourless smile. ‘I very much doubt the sentiment is reciprocated!’

  Max shook his head. ‘I’m not out to win popularity contests, I’m only interested in making sure you’ve suffered no ill effects from the accident—’

  ‘The only “ill effects” I have are from having to look at you any longer than I need to!’ January told him insultingly, at last managing to pull her arm out of his grasp as she glared up at him. ‘Now, are you going to move your car, or do I have to go round you by taking the tractor into one of the fields?’ she challenged hardly.

  Move, she pleaded inwardly. Just move. If only so that she could get away from his overwhelming presence. Because if he didn’t soon move, she was very much afraid she was going to cry!

  At the moment, her only defence against her feelings for this man was her anger. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to maintain it.

  Max stared at her frustratedly. She was, without doubt, the most stubborn, most determined—

  More stubborn than he was? More determined than he was? Somehow he didn’t think so.

  At the moment, January was furiously angry with him for what she thought of as his deception. He could see only too clearly that nothing he said or did just now—or in the immediate future, for that matter—was going to change her feelings for him. Besides, he was in something of a quandary himself, had always made it a rule to keep his private and business life completely separate. That way there was never any question of a conflict of interest.

  January Calendar. Of all the women he could have found himself so attracted to, it had to be one of the Calendar sisters!

  What were the chances of that happening? Really? Almost nil, he would have said, with the farm being such a distance away from the hotel. That little mischief called Fate, he felt, was playing some sort of game with him.

  But he had challenged Fate before, and won; he could win this time, too. If he still wanted to…

  That was the real problem here. He had been stunned to learn that January was one of the three Calendar sisters he had been sent here to persuade into selling their farm. More than stunned. In truth, he simply didn’t know what to do about it. A most unusual occurrence for him.

  ‘You won’t agree to see a doctor about that bump on the head?’ He tried one last time to make her see sense about that at least.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she came back predictably.

  His mouth tightened even as he gave an acknowledging nod of his head; stubborn didn’t even begin to describe this particular woman!

  ‘I take it our date for dinner this evening is also cancelled?’ he prompted dryly.

  Her eyes flashed deeply grey. ‘You take it correct!’ she snapped.

  ‘I thought so,’ he murmured mildly. ‘As I obviously no longer have any other plans for today, and as I’m already halfway there already, I may as well drive up the rest of the way to the farm and have another talk to your sisters.’

  January’s eyes widened incredulously at this suggestion. ‘You will be wasting your time!’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s my time to waste.’

  Her mouth twisted scathingly. ‘I thought your time belonged to the Marshall Corporation?’

  It was true that the Marshall Corporation had become the main part of his life for almost fifteen years, that his hours of work weren’t the usual nine to five, Monday to Friday of a lawyer in a normal law practice. But with no family ties to speak of, only an apartment in London that he rarely visited to actually call home, that had never particularly bothered Max. In fact, he had welcomed the long hours of work and travel that were often necessary in his job.

  In the circumstances, hearing January casting aspersions on that particular aspect of his life was not something he welcomed!

  ‘Even I have weekends and holiday off, January,’ he snapped, knowing, even as he made the claim, that it wasn’t strictly accurate.

  He could probably count the number of holidays he had taken the last fifteen years on the fingers of one hand. But holidays had never seemed important to him, were often an inconvenient interruption to business. Besides, he visited such exotic places during his business travels that holidays weren’t really necessary.

  ‘You were still working on New Year’s Eve,’ January reminded tauntingly.

  His mouth tightened at her obvious implication. She still believed he had deliberately singled her out that evening, that it was all a part of some elaborate plan on his part to gain control of the Calendar farm.

  But there was no way he would have deliberately planned to meet January in that way, certainly not to have been completely knocked off his feet by her in the way he had been. It was simply an unwritten rule with him never to mix business with pleasure.

  Not that he thought there was much chance of him doing that now, either!

  Oh, he was still attracted to January, in a way he had probably never been to any other woman, but there were two ways of looking at the fact she had turned out to be one of the Calendar sisters. The first way meant that he now had an uphill struggle ahead of him if he were to continue his personal pursuit of her. The second way was as a timely intervention, Fate not playing games with him at all, but instead stepping in to stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

  Damn it, he liked his life the way it was: completely uncomplicated by personal ties! And there was no way, now, that he could have an enjoyable, but brief, relationship with January.

  He drew in a deeply controlling breath. ‘I’ll back my car up and let you past,’ he told her evenly.

  Her eyes widened at his unexpected capitulation. ‘You’re still wasting your time going up to the farm,’ she assured him hardly. ‘My sisters aren’t interested in selling any more than I am.’

  He gave another shrug. ‘If that’s the case, it will cease to be my problem and become someone else’s.’ He hoped!

  She gave him a guarded look. ‘Are you threatening us?’

  ‘Not in the least!’ He gave an exasperated shake of his head. ‘January, no one can force any of you into selling if you’re really not interested in doing so.’

  But even as he said the words he knew that wasn’t strictly true; Jude wasn’t a man used to hearing the word no, let alone actually taking any notice of it. And he wanted the land the Calendar farm stood on pretty badly…

  January didn’t look any more convinced of his sincerity than he had actually making the claim, that guarded look having turned to one of wariness now.

  ‘It’s cold out here, January,’ he added briskly, not quite meeting her searching gaze now. ‘I’ll back up and let you continue on your way. Your car is a mess, by the way,’ he added hardly, having driven past the car in the ditch on his way up here, wincing as he imagined January behind the wheel as she lost control and crashed. Worse, that she had been driving to meet him at the time it had happened…

  Not that he thought that would happen again; January had made it more than obvious the last ten minutes or so that she would never agree to meet him again, for dinner or anything else!

  Cut your losses and move on, Max, he mentally advised himself determinedly. Goodness knew he had done it often enough in the past, never in the same place long enough to allow himself to become too attached to any woman. Or them to him. January Calendar was no different, he told himself firmly. Only the force of his attraction to her was different…

  All the more reason to get as far away from here as he could, as quickly as he could!

  Except Jude seemed to have other ideas on the subject, Max discovered later that afternoon when he returned to the hotel, after a frustrating hour spent at the Calendar farm with May and March Calendar, to put a call through to his boss and friend.

  ‘You can’t have put our case strongly enough,’ Jude drawled unsympathetically. ‘How di
fficult can it be to persuade three old maids that they would be better off living in a nice bungalow somewhere than working their fingers to the bone on a hill farm that simply doesn’t, and never will, pay for itself?’

  ‘Three old maids’, indeed! Max could easily predict the reaction of any of the three undoubtedly beautiful sisters to being called that! It had been interesting to meet the third sister, March, when he’d got to the farm, to see the physical similarity between all three sisters. Although March, he had quickly learnt, was the most tempestuous of the three, telling him in no uncertain terms exactly what he, and the Marshall Corporation, could do with their offer to buy the Calendar property. May had been a little politer, but her answer had still been the same as that of her siblings.

  But for some reason Max didn’t actually want to correct Jude in his mistake concerning the age of the three sisters, didn’t want to give the other man the opportunity to perhaps put two and two together and come up with four, to question the reason for Max’s own reluctance to pursue this thing any further.

  ‘They were born there, Jude,’ he repeated March’s indignant remark of earlier. ‘The family has lived there for generations—’

  ‘Max, are you going soft on me?’ Jude cut in disbelievingly.

  As well he might. He and Jude had been at school together, had lost touch for a while when attending different universities, but Jude had sought Max out several years later when his business empire had begun to expand, easily persuading Max to become his personal and company lawyer. It was a decision that Max had never regretted. Until today…

  ‘No, of course not,’ he dismissed harshly. ‘I just—’

  ‘You just…?’ Jude prompted speculatively.

  ‘Leave it with me for a few more days, okay?’ he answered impatiently, willing himself to relax as his hand tightly gripped the receiver—so much for his earlier decision to tell Jude to just cut and run over this proposed deal. So that he could cut and run himself! ‘How are you doing with the beautiful April?’ he prompted tautly.