Carole Mortimer - Christmas with a Billionaire

Sophie’s cheeks blazed with warmth as she looked over her shoulder and saw the flour on the backside of her jeans, glaring at Max as the other woman left the room to join her husband and daughter in the sitting room. Obviously, the flour had got there when Max had lifted her up onto the kitchen table.

‘Don’t blame me!’ He held up his hands defensively.

Sophie looked up from brushing the flour off the back of her jeans, certain that her face must look very hot—and even more bothered!

‘And who else should I blame, when you’re the one that lifted me onto the table in the first place?’

‘I don’t remember you protesting at the time,’ Max came back mildly, outwardly amused by Sophie’s embarrassment, but inwardly irritated too—because he very much doubted he had heard the last on the subject from his sister.

Brown eyes glared daggers at him. ‘And I don’t remember being given much opportunity to protest.’

Max returned that gaze quizzically. They both knew her statement wasn’t completely truthful, that Sophie could have demurred at any time—when he first kissed her lips, when his tongue and lips had searched out the delectable hollows of her throat, when he had clasped her bottom and carried her over to the table, when he had unfastened her blouse, cupped her breasts and caressed them—and Max would have stopped.

At least, he hoped that he would.

Sophie, with her blazing red hair and refreshingly unusual and freckle-faced beauty, had a way of turning his well-ordered world upside down. Of turning him upside down. So much so that things like caution and self-control seemed to fall by the wayside the moment he was with her.

As they did now.

His body was still hot and aching, telling Max all too clearly that he wanted to continue where the two of them had left off. Something that was impossible, and would be for some time, now that his sister, brother-in-law and niece had arrived to stay.

‘Never mind,’ Sophie dismissed abruptly before visibly forcing the tension from the slenderness of her shoulders. ‘Now that your brother-in-law is here, would you like me to go present shopping for him too, before I come back here in the morning?’

Well, at least she intended coming back in the morning; there had been every chance that she wouldn’t, after their earlier intimacies.

‘Fine.’ Max nodded. ‘I—You don’t have to go right away,’ he continued huskily. ‘You could always stay and have a drink with all of us? It will give you a chance to get to know Janice, Tom and Amy better.’ He instantly had cause to regret his impulsive offer, as Sophie now eyed him suspiciously.

‘I—No, thanks,’ she refused abruptly, her gaze now refusing to meet Max’s. ‘It’s late and I—Henry will be expecting me home any minute,’ she finished determinedly.

‘Henry?’ Max repeated sharply. ‘Who the hell is Henry?’ His voice had deepened accusingly as he continued, without waiting for her to answer, ‘Damn it, I asked you the other day if there was anyone you should be spending Christmas with.’

‘And I told you there wasn’t,’ she maintained stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t want to spend Christmas with the man you’re obviously living with?’ Max couldn’t remember ever feeling this angry in his life before.

Sophie lived with a man called Henry!

This innocent-looking little sprite, with her honest brown eyes, smart—and utterly delicious!—mouth, lived with a man called Henry.

Sophie realised she had made a mistake the moment she’d mentioned Henry’s name, but at the time she had been too flustered by thoughts of her and Max together just minutes ago, too desperate to leave Max’s apartment, to escape him, to think properly before speaking.

And now that she had spoken there was no way she could either retract the statement or admit that Henry was a cat; there was every chance that Max knew his PA had a cat called Henry, and that he would then add two and two together and come up with the correct answer of four. Namely, that Sally knew Sophie rather better than he had previously been informed. Which would not only be embarrassing for all of them but might endanger Sally’s job as Max’s PA.

‘Henry and I are currently sharing a flat, yes.’

‘And just how long has this arrangement with Henry existed?’ Max demanded to know harshly.

Sophie shrugged uncomfortably, not fooled for a moment by the softness of Max’s tone. The dangerous glitter in those green eyes told an altogether different story. ‘Just the past few days.’

‘The past few days?’ Max echoed incredulously. Disgustedly. ‘And you don’t want to spend Christmas with the man you’ve only just started living with?’

She shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I need the money you’re paying me more—’

‘Damn it, you almost allowed me to make love to you just now,’ Max rasped accusingly.

‘I don’t recall there being much “allowing” about it. You just took,’ Sophie came back defensively as she forced herself to meet Max’s gaze, uncomfortably aware of the contempt he now felt towards her as that emotion glittered uncensored in those dark green eyes.

Contempt as well as disgust.

And it would be wholly deserved contempt and disgust if Sophie really were living with a man called Henry and had earlier allowed, and responded to, Max’s kisses and caresses.

As it was, there was no way she could explain who Henry really was, not without also implicating her cousin in the deception they’d carried out.

‘Perhaps it is time that you left.’ Max spoke evenly.

‘Yes.’ Sophie could no longer meet those contemptuous green eyes.

Max’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘After all, you really don’t want to keep Henry waiting any longer.’

She gave a pained frown. ‘Max—’

‘Yes?’

Sophie inwardly quaked at the unmistakable disgust Max managed to engender in just that one word. ‘Never mind.’ She gave an uncomfortable shake of her head. ‘As I said, I’ll be a little late in the morning, as I have to shop for those presents for your brother-in-law.’

He gave a dismissive shrug of those powerful shoulders. ‘I’ll be at work anyway.’

Her eyes widened. ‘But your family is here and it’s Christmas Eve!’

He nodded tersely. ‘And?’

And she had already known that Max Hamilton hadn’t become a billionaire without working as hard as he played. That taking Christmas Eve off work to spend the day with his family probably hadn’t even occurred to him, let alone been a real possibility.

‘And nothing,’ she accepted distantly. ‘I was only being polite by informing you why I might be a little late in the morning.’

His mouth twisted with hard derision. ‘I think the two of us have gone way past being “polite” to each other, don’t you?’

Yes, they probably had, Sophie accepted heavily.

There was no probably about it.

Max had seen her breasts earlier, covered only by that red satin and lace bra, for goodness’ sake. Had kissed and caressed them until they still ached with arousal. And he had so obviously fantasised about seeing her in the matching thong too, once she’d told him she was wearing one.

Yes, the two of them were way, way past being polite to each other.

IT 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.