His Cinderella Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  As well he might be, January acknowledged with an inward wince.

  Women, would he ever understand them? Max wondered dazedly as he looked at January and May.

  He hadn’t slept at all the previous night, had gone over and over in his mind the things January had said to him, punishing himself for his own determination never to let anyone into his life, never to care about anyone enough for them to be able to hurt him.

  Because January had hurt him the night before. Had hurt him more than he had ever been hurt before.

  Finally, he had known that the only thing left for him to do was to go back to America, to explain the situation to Jude, and let him take over from there, if he cared to. One thing Max was very sure of: he couldn’t do this any more…

  And now, it seemed, the Calendar sisters had changed their mind about selling, after all!

  Without being invited to do so—he would probably wait all day if he expected any politeness from January!—he sat down abruptly in one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Would someone mind telling me what is going on?’ he prompted wearily—and not only from lack of sleep.

  ‘Here, have some coffee.’ May poured some from the pot into a mug and placed it in front of him.

  A double whisky would probably have been more beneficial, Max decided with a grimace, but sipped the hot coffee anyway. ‘Well?’ he finally prompted when neither sister seemed inclined to add anything.

  ‘I only said we’re thinking about it, Max,’ May reminded impatiently. ‘Circumstances have changed—’

  ‘So January informed me, only too volubly, last night!’ He nodded tersely.

  May shot January a sharply questioning look, January answering with a warning shake of her head.

  ‘January being temporarily out of a job wasn’t the circumstances you were talking about,’ Max realized slowly, gaze narrowing speculatively. ‘Care to tell me about it?’ he prompted lightly.

  ‘No!’ January snapped.

  ‘Yes,’ May countered firmly, giving January a frown. ‘You don’t shoot the envoy, January,’ she reproved teasingly.

  Max’s mouth twisted. ‘I would like to stick around and watch one of you shoot Jude!’

  ‘Be my guest,’ January returned sharply. ‘But, of course, you’re going back to America, aren’t you?’ she added scathingly.

  What he would most like to do at the moment was put her over his knee and give her a good spanking. A thought May, if the teasing smile she gave him was anything to go by, was all too aware of!

  Going back to America was not the ideal thing for him to do with this attacker called the Night Striker still on the loose, but with January hating him in the way that she did, he didn’t feel he could stay here, either.

  To say he was disappointed in this uncertainty of the sisters about selling the farm after all would be an understatement. He had come to admire all three sisters for their determination this last week, had to admit he had half relished going back to Jude and telling him the answer was a definite no!

  No doubt about it, he would never understand women. But this possible change of mind by the Calendar sisters ultimately made no difference to his own plans. Someone else could sort out the details, he really had had enough.

  ‘I am,’ he confirmed evenly. ‘So what happened?’ He turned to May—deciding, of the two, she was probably the one who would give him a straight answer. ‘Is one of you getting married or something?’ If it was January—!

  He felt a jolt in his chest just at the thought of her marrying some faceless man. Just as well he was leaving!

  ‘Or something,’ May told him dryly.

  Immediately starting Max’s heart beating again. Until that moment he hadn’t even been aware that it had stopped!

  May looked slightly abashed. ‘A director has approached me about appearing in a film he’s going to make in the summer.’ The words came out in a self-conscious rush. ‘I’ll probably be awful at it, but…’ She gave a rueful shrug.

  Aha! The answer to May’s nonexistent dental appointment earlier in the week? The derisive smile May shot his way told him that his supposition was correct.

  Well, well, well. So May might be going off for some time filming. And he already knew that March had a full-time job. So what was January going to do?

  As if aware of his curiosity, January snapped, ‘I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be part of the entertainment team on a cruise ship.’

  ‘You have?’ May frowned—obviously hearing this for the first time.

  ‘I have,’ January confirmed with an awkward shrug, at the same time shooting Max a resentful glare—obviously not at all happy with having him here as part of this family ‘baring-of-hearts’.

  A sentiment that he wholeheartedly agreed with—although, as January didn’t think he had a heart, she probably wouldn’t believe that!

  He stood up abruptly, once again keeping his gaze firmly fixed on May. ‘It all sounds great.’ He nodded. ‘I hope it works out for you. I just felt I owed it to you all to come and tell you what I plan on doing tomorrow.’ He drew in a sharp breath; now that the time had actually come for him to part from January his legs felt like lead, his heart even heavier.

  ‘That was very kind of you, Max,’ May told him warmly. ‘Wasn’t it, January?’ she prompted pointedly.

  ‘Very,’ she echoed dryly.

  He gave a self-derisive smile. ‘What she really means, May, is she’ll be glad to see me go!’ he murmured softly.

  January gave him a level stare. ‘Is that so surprising? You’ve done nothing but cause mayhem and confusion since you arrived here!’ she accused, her anger obviously starting to rise, two spots of colour in the paleness of her cheeks too now.

  ‘January!’ May gasped.

  ‘But he has, May,’ she defended impatiently. ‘He’s harassed us about selling the farm,’ she claimed heatedly—a little unfairly, Max thought. ‘He’s lost me my job, he claims because of concern over my safety,’ she continued disgustedly. ‘And now he’s got me into such a state of paranoia that I’ve even started imagining people are following me home at night!’

  Max tensed, his gaze narrowing with sudden alertness. ‘Someone followed you home last night?’ he echoed slowly.

  ‘Of course not,’ she dismissed irritably. ‘I just thought they did—’

  ‘Why did you think they did?’ he cut in softly, every muscle and sinew of his body tensed now, a nerve pulsing in his cheek.

  January gave a dismissive smile. ‘Because they obviously live somewhere in the area and were driving home at the same time I was!’ she snorted self-derisively.

  Max looked at her searchingly. ‘Are you sure?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m still here, aren’t I?’ she scorned.

  Yes, she was—and as verbally resentful as ever. Oh, well, what had he expected? Nothing had happened to change that since they’d parted last night. In fact, from what she had just said, the opposite!

  ‘So you are,’ he conceded dryly. ‘But I understand you will be at the hotel this evening?’ There was a notice up outside the piano-bar that tonight would be January’s last performance for a while.

  Max’s mouth had thinned disapprovingly as he’d read the notice earlier; Peter Meridew obviously couldn’t even do that right! By making such a public announcement the other man was effectively letting anyone who cared to know that January would be driving home alone this evening one last time…!

  ‘Yes, I will,’ January confirmed abruptly, her chin raised challengingly. ‘Can I expect to see you there?’

  His mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he drawled.

  Her eyes flashed dark grey. ‘Neither would I!’

  He gave an acknowledging bow before turning to a frowning May; obviously she wasn’t at all happy about her youngest sister’s rudeness. ‘I wish you every success with your possible acting career,’ he told her warmly.

  May looked embarrassed again. ‘I haven’t definitely decided to go ah
ead with that yet.’

  ‘But she will,’ January said determinedly.

  ‘Maybe,’ May conceded. ‘Have a good flight home tomorrow, Max.’

  Once again one of the sisters had assumed that his home was in America. But this time he was too weary to correct the mistake.

  ‘Thanks,’ he accepted with a smile. ‘I’ll see you later, then, January.’

  She gave him a look that clearly said, Not if I see you first!

  Max chuckled softly. ‘Or perhaps not,’ he allowed ruefully.

  Although that humour faded as soon as he was outside, taking a moment to stand and look at the surrounding countryside with narrowed eyes.

  Had someone followed January home last night? Or was it as she said, just another local resident driving home late at night?

  He didn’t know. And neither did she. Not really. She couldn’t.

  January wasn’t going to like it, he knew, but this was definitely something the police should be made aware of.

  He also had one more call to make this afternoon on his way back to the hotel to pack.

  To Josh.

  January might see all of this as some sort of paranoia on his part, but if it stopped her from getting hurt, paranoid was exactly what he would be!

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘NO JOHN this evening?’

  January turned to find Max just entering the bar, his opening comment drawing attention to the fact that there was someone else working behind the bar this evening.

  Before his gaze narrowed on January’s own appearance, a shutter coming down over those blue eyes as he took in the scarlet knee-length dress she was wearing this evening.

  January’s chin rose defensively as Max’s gaze swept over her from head to toe; she had decided that if this really was her last evening working here, then she was going out with a flourish! The figure-hugging, scoop-necked scarlet dress was the result of that bravado.

  She shrugged, determined to ignore Max’s all-seeing gaze. ‘He was here earlier, apparently, but has since gone off sick,’ she answered Max’s earlier comment. ‘Probably still having trouble with his ankle,’ she dismissed, a little disappointed that she wouldn’t see John again before leaving; he had always been very kind to her. ‘Football,’ she explained at Max’s frowning look.

  His brow cleared, his smile derisive. ‘I’ve never really understood this fascination with what has become England’s national sport.’

  ‘It isn’t as boring as cricket?’ January returned dryly.

  Max chuckled softly. ‘You could have a point there!’

  Max looked more like a rugby player himself, his physique muscular to say the least, January allowed grudgingly.

  Not that it was of any of her business, she told herself sharply; there was nothing more she needed to know about Max Golding. It was bad enough that she was in love with him!

  ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said sharply, as usual feeling disturbed just by Max’s presence in the same room as her, ‘I have to get to work.’

  He nodded. ‘I have a few things to attend to myself,’ he told her enigmatically. ‘Perhaps I’ll catch up with you later,’ he added dismissively.

  January watched him leave beneath lowered lashes. Tomorrow he would be gone. From the hotel. From England. From her life. How her heart ached just at the thought of it!

  Only a few more hours to get through, she told herself determinedly. And then she could give in to the heartbreak that had been threatening since he’d come to the farm earlier to inform them he was leaving, going back to America.

  Perhaps it was as well she would no longer be working here after tonight; she simply wouldn’t have been able to come to the hotel without imagining Max here, her loss all the more acute because he really wasn’t.

  As she was aware of his absence during the early part of the evening. Strange how quickly she had become accustomed to his being here the evenings she worked, how flat the evening seemed because he wasn’t there watching her with that intense blue gaze.

  She had to stop this, she decided as she stood at the bar sipping sparkling water during her first break. Max had never really been in her life, so how could she feel so devastated now that he was going out of it? She didn’t know—she just did!

  How could she bear it?

  How was she going to survive without his annoying—wonderful!—presence in her life?

  ‘Penny for them?’

  She turned sharply at the huskily intimate sound of his voice, hurriedly blinking back the tears that had blurred her vision. ‘Shouldn’t that be “cent”?’ she came back lamely.

  Max shook his head, frowning slightly. ‘How many more times? I don’t actually live in America, January.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You don’t?’

  He gave another shake of his head. ‘I have no idea why you thought that I did.’

  ‘Because you said you had flown here from there.’ She frowned. ‘And Jude Marshall is there. I just assumed—’ Somehow the thought that Max might actually still be in England somewhere, and not all the way across the Atlantic, made their parting not quite so hard to bear.

  ‘I have an apartment in London, January,’ he told her softly, his gaze searching now on the paleness of her face. ‘An apartment I have a feeling I will be using a lot more in the near future,’ he added dryly.

  She looked at him quizzically. ‘You will?’

  ‘Yes,’ he confirmed with satisfaction. ‘January—’

  ‘Mr Golding?’

  They both turned at the sound of that enquiring voice, January’s gaze widening even further as she took in the police uniform the man was wearing. What on earth—?

  ‘Yes?’ Max answered sharply, January actually able to feel his sudden tension.

  The policeman glanced at January. ‘If you could just step outside for a few minutes, sir,’ he prompted quietly.

  January was feeling tense herself now. What on earth could the police want with Max? Surely they didn’t think—?

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ she told Max determinedly as he turned to leave with the other man.

  He glanced back at her, blue gaze guarded now. ‘I would much rather you didn’t,’ he said softly.

  ‘Too bad,’ she snapped forcefully, moving quickly to his side, her hand moving to rest lightly in his crooked arm.

  Max looked down at her questioningly. ‘I’m not about to be arrested, January,’ he teased huskily.

  She wasn’t so sure about that! And if that were the case, and it had anything to do with the attacks over the last seven months, she had every intention of telling the police exactly how ridiculous they were being; Max hadn’t even been in England when most of those attacks had occurred!

  ‘You would be Miss Calendar?’ The policeman frowned as he became aware of her presence. ‘Miss January Calendar?’

  Her hand tightened on Max’s arm. ‘I would,’ she confirmed warily.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, January.’ Max bent his head to tell her soothingly. ‘They aren’t about to arrest you, either!’

  ‘I should think not,’ she bristled indignantly.

  ‘However…’ Even as Max began to speak the door to Peter Meridew’s office opened, several people emerging, obviously also policemen, a couple in plain clothes, two others in uniform restraining another man between the two of them as he struggled and shouted abuse.

  ‘John…!’ January gasped, before looking up disbelievingly at Max.

  His expression was grim, his hand tight on hers as it rested on his arm. ‘John is the one who has been carrying out the attacks,’ he told her gently.

  ‘John is—?’ She shook her head dazedly before turning back to look at John.

  A John who looked totally unlike the likeable man she had come to know over the last few months, his face twisted into an ugly mask as he continued to shout and struggle as he was taken from the hotel.

  John…!

  He was the attacker? The man who had attacked six women? Who had be
aten Josh so badly on Monday evening? The man who—

  The man who had attacked Josh on Monday evening…

  She looked up sharply at Max as a terrible truth began to grow inside her, seeing the confirmation of her suspicions in Max’s grimly set features—before blackness washed over her and she began to fall.

  Max looked down worriedly at January as she lay on the sofa in Peter Meridew’s office. Her face was so pale, dark shadows beneath her eyes, her breathing shallow.

  He had managed to catch her before she’d actually hit the tiled floor, picking her up to carry her through to the manager’s office, dismissing the other man from his own office with an imperious wave of his hand, in one way relieved that January had been spared the next few minutes of dealing with the police, but in another way concerned about what to say to her when she did regain consciousness. Because he had seen the truth in her eyes seconds before she’d collapsed, knew then that she had realized exactly why John had carried out those attacks.

  Knew that she was the catalyst…

  ‘It was me, wasn’t it?’ January murmured beside him, as if the intensity of Max’s thoughts had penetrated her unconsciousness.

  Max turned to her sharply. ‘How do you feel?’ he prompted concernedly, taking one of her hands in his, dismayed at how cold she felt despite the warmth in the hotel.

  She blinked, tears sparkling against her long lashes. ‘John did those things because of some sort of misguided—feelings, for me, didn’t he?’ she repeated brokenly.

  Max’s hand tightened on hers. ‘It wasn’t your fault, January,’ he told her firmly. ‘You must never think that. The man was obsessed.’ He shook his head grimly. ‘I never realized before today how normal an insane person can appear!’

  She gave the ghost of a smile. ‘I’m not sure that remark was exactly complimentary to me…?’

  Good, she was getting her sense of humour back; it was a start.

  Max gave her a reassuring smile. ‘It was meant to be, I can assure you. Are you feeling better?’ he asked as she swung her legs to the floor and sat up next to him on the sofa.

  She didn’t look better, her face still deathly pale, those tears still trembling against her lashes.