Christmas With a Billionaire: Billionaire Under the Mistletoe\Snowed in With Her Boss\A Diamond for Christmas (5 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
T
WAS
WITH
great reluctance that Max let himself into his apartment the following evening, all too aware that, for the next two days at least, there would be no escaping Christmas.

Or Sophie...

A fact instantly brought home to him as he stepped into the marble entrance hall, the delicious smell of food cooking telling him she was probably in the kitchen right now.

He was still utterly furious with her for omitting to tell him that she already had someone in her life. A ‘someone’ called Henry.

At the same time as he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since they’d parted last night. Images of her, of kissing her, touching her, had disturbed his sleep last night, and totally wrecked his concentration at work today.

Damn it, a masochistic side of him wanted to spend time with Sophie. To enjoy looking at her. Talking with her. And to laugh too, as she gave him yet another one of her cheeky set-downs in response to something he had either said or done that she disapproved of.

How sad was that? That he was inwardly aching for even the disapproval of a woman he had met for the first time just three days ago?

Utterly pathetic was what it was.

Sophie was ten years younger than him. A student, for goodness’ sake. And she wasn’t tall and slim, or sophisticated—those fiery red curls were completely untameable!—or in the least classically beautiful.

Or, it seemed, available.

Max freely acknowledged, to himself, at least, that it was the latter which had annoyed him the most.

Because Sophie lived with another man. A man called Henry.

A man Max had been resisting the urge, all last night and today, to seek out and strangle with his bare hands.

How caveman was that?

It was unbelievable that Sophie had managed to get beneath his skin in such a short space of time and he had felt positively primitive just thinking of her sharing an apartment—a bed!—with another man.

‘Uncle Max!’ An excited Amy appeared in the entrance hall, looking cute as a button in a green velvet dress, with a matching ribbon in the darkness of her curls. ‘Uncle Max, come and see how beautiful the tree looks today!’ She grinned happily as she took his hand and pulled him into the sitting room.

Max came to a halt just inside the doorway, fingers tightening about the handle of his briefcase as he saw that Sophie wasn’t in the kitchen, after all, but down on her hands and knees next to the tree in the sitting room, adding yet more gaily wrapped presents to the dozens and dozens already piled high around the base of it.

His mouth went dry as he saw Sophie was wearing fitted brown trousers today, with a matching brown sweater. The former outlined the perfect curve of her bottom as she bent over, causing him to wonder if she was wearing another thong today. The latter clung to the soft swell of her breasts as she straightened to her knees to look across at him guardedly. Those fiery red curls cascaded, unchecked, down onto the slenderness of her shoulders and about her flushed face.

For a man who had always enjoyed coming home to the peace and solitude of his apartment, Max felt a warmth inside at seeing Sophie here with his family.

With very little effort on his part, he could get used to finding her waiting here for him every evening when he came home from work.

A realisation that sent a cold shiver of apprehension down the length of his spine.

He didn’t want or need any woman waiting for him when he came home from work, this evening or any other. He knew only too well how easy it was to lose the people you cared about. The people you loved. Which was why he had never fallen in love with any of the women he had dated.

Why he had deliberately chosen to go out with women he knew there was no chance of him ever falling in love with?

Perhaps.

No, not perhaps—that was exactly what he had done for the last sixteen years. Since losing his parents so suddenly, he had learnt in a single blow just how fragile life could be, and how painful it was to lose the people you loved.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow a fiery-haired urchin like Sophie Carter to penetrate the hard shell he had kept over his emotions for so many years.

‘Are you planning to change before dinner, Max?’ Janice prompted pointedly.

Max gave himself a mental shake as he realised he had been staring at Sophie this whole time, and that his expression must have been as unpleasant as his thoughts, if the pallor of her cheeks was any indication.

His expression remained grim as he turned away to look at Janice. ‘How long do I have before we eat?’

It was impossible for Sophie to miss the fact that Max had chosen to ask his sister that question, rather than the person actually cooking the evening meal. As a means, no doubt, of letting her know exactly where she fit into the scheme of things.

Just as it had been impossible for her to have mistaken the look of displeasure on Max’s face, and the way his fingers took a white-knuckled grip of his briefcase, the moment he entered the sitting room and saw her sitting there with his family.

Well, if he thought for one moment that she had imagined she might be included in their family Christmas, he was mistaken. She knew her place, and it wasn’t here but in the kitchen. She was only here now because it was the first chance she’d had to slip the token presents beneath the tree that she had bought for the Hilton family.

Although, after his behaviour just now, she was starting to regret that she had felt guilt pressure her into buying a present for Max too.

And it had been far from easy to find something suitable for him; what did you buy a man who was a billionaire and already had everything, or had the means to buy anything and everything that he could ever want or need?

The choice of a pop-up book on horses had been easy for Amy. And she had found a pretty, but inexpensive, scarf ring made out of jade for Janice. Tom had been a little more difficult, but Sophie had finally settled on an autobiography she had thought might interest him. Which had just left her with Max to buy for.

Just!

Everything she had looked at had seemed either too personal, or too ordinary, or just too obviously inexpensive for a man as rich and overwhelmingly powerful as Max Hamilton.

Until she remembered the book she had bought for her uncle’s birthday a couple of months ago, a humorous book written by one of the more outspoken politicians. A book her uncle had greatly enjoyed, and recommended for any cynic. Which, Sophie had decided, described Max Hamilton to a T!

Not only was he cynical, but he was also sarcastic and arrogant and, at times, just plain hurtful.

‘Sophie?’ Janice queried softly.

Sophie had decorated the gingerbread snowmen and angels with Amy once she’d arrived this morning, and the Hiltons had been out for the rest of the day, doing last-minute shopping that morning and then taking Amy ice skating in the afternoon. But nevertheless Sophie had spent a little time alone in the kitchen with Janice earlier this evening. Enough to know that she liked the other woman very much.

Enough to know that the relaxed and friendly Janice was nothing like her arrogant and disdainful older brother!

‘Dinner will be served in an hour or so, Mr Hamilton,’ Sophie informed him stiltedly before stiffly crossing the room, her head held high as she moved past him to return to the kitchen.

It didn’t take a mastermind to realise that Sophie was annoyed with him again, Max acknowledged ruefully as he watched her leave. Even the red of her hair had seemed to crackle with angry disapproval.

No change there, then.

‘You weren’t very polite, Max,’ Janice admonished him softly.

‘No,’ he acknowledged without apology, in no mood to explain himself to either of the two women presently in his apartment. ‘I’ll just go and shower and change into something more casual before dinner.’ He didn’t wait for his sister’s response as he followed Sophie out of the room.

He had every intention of turning right, in the direction of his bedroom suite, walking down the carpeted hallway to his rooms, closing the door and taking a shower, preferably a cold one, after leaving the sitting room.

Instead, he found himself turning left and heading in the direction of the kitchen. And Sophie.

Max stood unobserved in the doorway, watching her as she concentrated on stirring something in a saucepan on top of the hob. She was listening to Christmas carols playing softly on the radio while she worked. The wildness of her fiery red hair was once again gathered up into a brown band at her crown, and the Santa pinafore was also secured about the slimness of her waist and looped over the back of her neck.

A neck that looked very slender and vulnerable as she bent over her task.

A vulnerability that Max was totally unable to resist as he crossed the kitchen on silent feet until he came to a halt, standing just inches behind her. He was instantly aware of the lightness of her perfume—a mixture of spring flowers and a headier spice. Just as he was also aware of the warmth of her body.

A combination that drew him in like a magnet.

The first Sophie knew of Max’s presence in the kitchen was when she gave a start of surprise and then stiffened as she felt his arms move about her waist and link together over her abdomen as he pulled her gently back to rest against his chest. ‘What...?’

‘I want to apologise for my boorish behaviour to you a few minutes ago, Sophie.’

‘What’s so different about a few minutes ago?’ she challenged as she attempted to separate his hands and release herself. ‘I had just assumed it was par for the course where you’re concerned,’ she added ruefully. The warm feel of Max’s breath against her ear indicated that his head was lowered to her level, as proof that he was standing far too close for comfort. If Sophie needed any further evidence of that, when the length of his chest and thighs was pressed so intimately against her back.

His chest rumbled against her spine as he gave a husky chuckle. ‘You really are very bad for my ego.’

‘It’s been my experience so far that your ego is already more than big enough for one man. Now would you kindly release me?’ Sophie added firmly. ‘Or do I have to hurt you?’

Max couldn’t stop his burst of laughter at her threat. Sophie was at least a foot shorter than him, and must weigh a good hundred pounds less too; the idea of her being able to physically ‘hurt’ him was ludicrous.

Besides which, holding her had filled his head with a calm he hadn’t felt in almost twenty-four hours.

‘Max?’ Sophie prompted warningly as he made no move to do as she asked and release her.

Max turned her round to face him; his lids were lowered to hide the expression in his eyes. ‘I like holding you.’

‘That wasn’t the impression you gave last night.’

‘You had just told me you’re living with another man,’ he reminded her sharply.

Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Another man’ seemed to imply that Max somehow thought of himself as a man in her life. Which was laughable. Yes, he had kissed her, and those kisses had got a little...well, a lot...out of control, but once Christmas was over she was never going to see him again. Despite the fact that she could clearly feel the length of Max’s arousal pressing against the softness of her abdomen.

‘And that situation hasn’t changed since last night.’ She put both her hands against his chest and pushed. To absolutely no effect. ‘I should warn you, Max, I’m a first dan in ju-jitsu and I’m not afraid to use it.’ She tilted her back to look up at him challengingly.

‘That’s admirable.’ He smiled mockingly. ‘Unfortunately for you, I’m a fourth dan, so what do you think your chances are in a fight between the two of us?’

Not very high, Sophie acknowledged with an inner wince, knowing how wide the gulf was between a first and fourth dan; no wonder Max had such a fit and lithe body for a man who supposedly spent all of his time sitting behind a desk adding to his billions. He obviously didn’t spend all of his time doing that!

‘Maybe we could have a practise together in the gym here some time over the next couple of days?’ He quirked one dark brow.

Sophie had no intention of becoming hot and sweaty with Max, in the gym here or anywhere else, ever!

She gave him a sweetly insincere smile. ‘I’ll pass, if you don’t mind.’

He gave what she easily interpreted as a smug smile. ‘Thought you might.’

Maybe, if he hadn’t given that self-satisfied smile, she might just have repeated her request that he release her and then backed off.

Unfortunately, he did smile smugly. After that, Sophie had no intention of backing off.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘W
HAT
ARE
YOU
DO
—?’ Max barely had time to gasp his surprise before the fingers on both of his hands were bent back painfully and he suddenly found himself flat on his back on the kitchen floor, with Sophie looming menacingly above him as she lay across his chest and twisted his wrists to hold his hands above his head. ‘Are you insane?’ He stared up at her incredulously.

‘Getting there, I think,’ she acknowledged as she spoke between gritted teeth, at the same time implying that he was the one driving her there.

Now that he was over the initial shock, this situation had tipped over into the realms of hilarious, if Max thought about it. And, at this precise moment, it seemed that he had all the time in the world to do exactly that.

Not that he couldn’t have released himself if he had wanted to, dislodging Sophie from on top of him. Because he certainly could have. As a fourth dan to Sophie’s first, he could have done that quite easily. He just chose not to do so for the moment.

There was something extremely arousing about having Sophie throw him to the floor before lying on top of him like this. In a position of dominance, her face only inches from his and flushed from her exertions, her eyes glittered down at him darkly in warning. So much so that the blood was pounding hotly through Max’s veins, making him uncomfortably aware of the increasing heat of his desire for the woman positioned above him.

A woman whom he sensed was becoming as aroused as he was, noting her nipples hardening against him and the heat deepening between her thighs, the fullness of her lips parting invitingly as she breathed heavily.

A woman who was already involved with, and had admitted living with, another man.

Max eyes narrowed. ‘Exactly what is Henry to you?’

Sophie was thrown by the unexpected question. ‘I don’t see what...’

‘Do you share a bed with him?’

She instantly thought of the way Henry had tried to sneak up onto her bed to sleep last night—something strictly forbidden by Sally, spoilt pet or otherwise. ‘No,’ she answered honestly.

‘Have sex with him?’

‘No!’ She gasped her answer this time, compelled to make the denial even though she knew it was really none of Max’s business, even if Henry had been the man he thought rather than her cousin’s cat.

‘But the two of you do live together?’ It was obvious from Max’s disgusted tone that if the two of them had been living together then they would definitely be sharing a bed and having sex.

‘Only because it’s convenient for a couple of weeks,’ she admitted reluctantly.

‘So the two of you aren’t romantically involved?’

‘I’m not—’

‘Would you say he’s a friend rather than a boyfriend?’ he persisted.

She eyed him warily now. ‘Max...’

‘Answer the damned question.’ His eyes glittered as hard as the emeralds they resembled as he glared up at her.

Sophie returned that gaze rebelliously, even though she now seriously doubted the wisdom, or sanity, of her actions. Not only could this be extremely awkward if any of the Hilton family should walk in on them, but she had just manhandled Max Hamilton, the powerful billionaire, to his own kitchen floor before throwing herself on top of him.

A move which, sanity aside, should have put her in a position of power. It should make her the one in control of this volatile situation between the two of them. And yet Sophie knew from the dangerous glitter in Max’s eyes that she wasn’t either of those things. That it was Max who held all the power. And the control.

Because her traitorous body was enjoying their close proximity far too much, her breasts full and aching, her nipples engorged. As for the increase in the aching heat between her thighs...

‘Yes,’ she finally answered Max challengingly.

That dangerous glitter intensified in his eyes for several seconds before it was dampened down, controlled. ‘So last night you deliberately chose to let me continue to think that the two of you were lovers?’

‘I really don’t see...’

‘Oh, you’re going to see, Sophie,’ Max promised her grimly. ‘In just a few minutes you’re going to see just how dangerous it is to play those sorts of games with me.’

She gasped. ‘I wasn’t playing games.’

‘It’s far too late for protests now, Sophie,’ he bit out harshly.

‘Only just, from where I’m standing,’ drawled an amused voice from across the room.

Sophie’s face was stricken as she turned sharply to look at the woman now standing in the kitchen doorway. At Max’s sister, Janice Hilton, as she stood in the kitchen doorway.

Sophie was mortified to be caught in such an uncompromising position with her boss.

‘I came to see if you needed any help, Sophie,’ Janice continued lightly, her green eyes alight with the humour she was obviously fighting a losing battle to keep contained. ‘But obviously you have the situation well under control.’ She arched pointedly amused brows at the fact that Sophie had her brother pinned to the kitchen floor.

Sophie closed her eyes as she inwardly prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her.

A prayer that wasn’t answered, of course, because Max was still lying on the kitchen floor beneath her when she opened her eyes again, and Janice was now grinning her enjoyment of this situation as she continued to look down at the two of them.

Sophie couldn’t even glance in Max’s direction now, to see his reaction to his sister’s arrival in the kitchen. She continued to look at Janice instead as she quickly released Max before scrambling inelegantly to her feet.

‘I— This isn’t what it looked like.’

Her cheeks were ablaze with embarrassment, no doubt clashing dreadfully with the red of her hair.

‘I was just— I just...’ She stopped talking, chewing on her bottom lip, at a complete loss to know exactly what explanation to give for what she and Max had been doing a few minutes ago.

‘I’d be as interested as Janice to hear what it was you were just doing, Sophie.’ Max rose lithely to his feet to stand beside her, his anger of a few minutes ago having completely evaporated, replaced by humour at Sophie’s obvious embarrassment.

Not that he didn’t think for one minute that he wasn’t going to come in for his own share of questions from his little sister once the two of them were alone together. Still, it was worth it just to see the way Sophie was now squirming with discomfort.

Sophie turned to glare at him with angry brown eyes. ‘I believe we can do without your warped sense of humour right now, thank you very much.’

‘Need I remind you that you were the one who dragged me down onto the kitchen floor?’ Max mocked drily.

‘And it’s a pity I didn’t decide to knock you on the head at the same time,’ she snapped back.

‘She’s absolutely priceless, Max.’ His sister chortled her obvious enjoyment of the situation.

‘That’s one way of describing her, yes,’ Max answered his sister drily.

He wondered if anyone had ever spoken to him in the completely uninhibited way that Sophie always seemed to. Not for many years, if at all, he acknowledged. And yet he found that he liked Sophie’s blunt honesty, the way she felt absolutely no fear or hesitation in saying exactly what she thought, both to him and about him.

‘I— We had just discovered that we both practise ju-jitsu,’ Sophie put in desperately, ‘and I was demonstrating one of the moves I’ve just learnt to Max.’

‘Lame, Sophie. Very lame,’ he repeated mockingly. ‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind disappearing, Janice? Sophie and I still have a few more moves we need to discuss before dinner.’ He arched a pointed brow at his sister.

‘I don’t mind at all. But I should keep those “moves” to a minimum for now, if I were you,’ Janice advised, her eyes still openly laughing at them. ‘I doubt Amy would understand if she were to walk in and find that the two of you had recommenced making those moves together on the kitchen floor.’

‘Go,’ he bit out tersely, waiting until Janice had left before turning back to Sophie, his eyes narrowed. ‘We don’t have time for this right now, Sophie, but rest assured, this isn’t over,’ he warned her softly.

‘Oh, it most certainly is over,’ Sophie told him heatedly, knowing it should never have begun. That she should never have allowed Max to annoy her to the point she had physically attacked him.

‘I don’t think so.’ Max eyed her contemplatively. ‘What I do think is that you should stay here tonight, Sophie,’ he added huskily.

She gave him a startled look. ‘What? Why?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, public transport is going to be awful and you’ll be coming back here early tomorrow morning anyway, to prepare lunch. And there are certainly plenty of bedrooms here for you to choose from,’ he added ruefully.

It was Christmas Eve, and as yet Sophie had no idea how she was going to get home tonight, let alone to come back here in the morning; none of the trains and buses were running, and she doubted there would be a deluge of taxis running on Christmas Day either. If any.

But stay here for the night?

In Max Hamilton’s apartment?

She didn’t think so.

Besides which, Sophie had a distinct feeling that Max had already decided which bedroom, given the option,
he
would choose for her to stay in.

And then there was Henry to think of.

She gave a shake of her head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why the hell not?’

Her mouth firmed at the dismissal in his tone. ‘I have to go back to the flat tonight. Henry...’

‘Isn’t your lover. Or your boyfriend.’ Max’s eyes glittered darkly.

‘Neither are you,’ Sophie retorted heatedly.

And instantly wished that she hadn’t.

Max had held her a couple of times, had kissed and caressed her and she had wrestled him to the kitchen floor once, but that was the extent of their relationship. Max might give every impression of behaving like a jealous lover right now but, from those stories Sophie had read about him in the media over the years, he didn’t do the boyfriend thing. Ever. He did sometimes escort a lover, but never anything approaching the permanence of being called any woman’s boyfriend.

As the woman Cynthia had found out to her cost?

It was a distinct possibility.

Just as it was a distinct possibility—a certainty—that Sophie would never see Max again after Christmas.

‘I apologise for what happened just now.’ Sophie sighed wearily. ‘I’m just a little... Thank you for your offer of staying here for the night, but my answer has to be no. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I need to finish cooking dinner,’ she dismissed briskly, avoiding even looking at Max.

Max continued to look searchingly at Sophie as she turned to inspect the contents of the saucepan she had been stirring when he’d first entered the kitchen just a short time ago.

He easily noted the way her face had now paled. That weary droop to her shoulders. The slight trembling of her hand as she gave the contents of the saucepan a stir.

And knew that he should just leave this alone. Should just leave Sophie alone. That he was playing with fire. That desiring her, wanting to be with her, might just consume him. If it hadn’t already done so.

At the same time as he knew that he couldn’t leave this, that just the thought of Sophie returning to spend the rest of the evening with some other man, even one that she had acknowledged wasn’t her lover or her boyfriend, was going to keep him awake for most of the night again. Most? He knew from experience that it was going to be all night!

Which basically meant it wasn’t going to happen.