New Year Kisses: His Cinderella Mistress

Was that husky rasp really her voice? It had sounded completely unlike her usual confident tones, like the voice of a stranger.

And perhaps that was what she had become, even to herself. Because she knew only too well that if Max hadn’t spoken and broken the spell it would no longer have just seemed as if they were two halves of a whole—it would have been a reality!

Max continued to look down at her frowningly for several long, searching seconds before flinging himself back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling. ‘As if I’m some sort of monster you need protecting from!’ he rasped coldly.

Had she really looked at him in that way? If she had, then it was totally unfair—because the only person she needed protecting from was herself!

‘Max—’

He swung away from her as she would have reached out and touched his arm, swinging his legs down to sit up on the side of the bed. ‘I think you had better leave, January,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Before either of us does or says something we’re going to regret!’

Hadn’t they already done that?

January knew that she certainly had. And one glance at Max’s grimly set features told her that he wasn’t in the least happy about what had happened, either!

She sat up, fumbling with the zip on her jeans, pulling the sides of her sweater together, her fingers shaking now as she tried to put the zipper together. This was so— Why wouldn’t this thing—?

‘Here—let me,’ Max bit out tautly, at the same time reaching out—with hands that were completely steady, January noticed self-derisively—to put the zipper together and pull up the silver catch.

January looked at him beneath lowered lashes, looking, searching desperately, for some sign of the man from seconds ago, the man who had trembled with the same desire she had. All she could see was Max Golding, his hair slightly ruffled perhaps, a nerve pulsing—with anger or suppressed desire?—in the hardness of his cheek, but otherwise he looked just as self-assured as ever!

‘Your look of reproach is a little late in coming, don’t you think?’ he drawled dryly. ‘As well as being misdirected!’ he added scathingly.

January flinched as if he had hit her, his words certainly wounding, if not physically then emotionally.

‘I have to go.’ She pushed back the tangle of her hair as she scrambled over to the side of the bed, wondering when she had ever felt so miserable. Never, came the unequivocal answer!

‘Running away, January?’ Max murmured tauntingly as she reached the bedroom door.

She turned to give him a sharp reply, the words catching in her throat as she saw herself reflected in the mirror across the room, seeing herself as she never had before.

Her hair was a tangled cloud about her shoulders, her eyes a wild dark grey, her face a white blur, her lips bruised red with passion. She looked exactly what she was—a woman who had recently been roused to a passion she might never recover from!

She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze from that wanton reflection as she looked across at Max contemptuously. ‘Not running, Max, walking,’ she corrected with hard derision. ‘I should never have come here in the first place!’ she added bitterly.

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ he acknowledged hardly, moving to sit back on the bed, one arm behind his head as he rested back against the headboard. ‘A short time ago, you asked me how I sleep at night,’ he reminded tauntingly. ‘Well, I can tell you, the answer to that is “very rarely alone”,’ he drawled mockingly, blue eyes openly laughing at her now.

January stiffened defensively at the pain his words caused, easily able to envisage him in bed with a sea of faceless women—especially with him sprawled out on the bed in that telling way!

Her mouth twisted disgustedly. ‘Well, it looks as if you lucked out tonight, doesn’t it?’ she scorned.

He gave a lazy glance at the gold watch nestling amongst the dark hairs on his wrist. ‘There’s still time.’ He shrugged.

January gasped, glaring at him now as she spat out the words, ‘You’re despicable!’

He gave another shrug, blue eyes as hard as sapphires now. ‘Go home, January,’ he scorned dismissively. ‘Come back when you’ve grown up a little.’

Her hands were clenched so tightly at her sides she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. ‘It really was all an act from start to finish, wasn’t it?’ she burst out emotionally. ‘That remark about love at first sight was part of your seduction, too,’ she added chokingly.

He grimaced. ‘Most women, I’ve found, respond to the word love rather than lust.’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘I have to admit, January, you shocked the hell out of me when you called it exactly what it is!’ He gave an appreciative inclination of his head.

She felt sick, mostly at herself, she admitted; she had guessed what sort of man Max was from the beginning, had no excuse for what had just happened between them.

‘But the feeling of lust, thank goodness, isn’t confined to one person,’ Max continued dismissively. ‘Besides, January—’ his gaze was once again mocking ‘—I have a feeling that if either of us isn’t going to sleep tonight it’s going to be you!’ He looked across at her challengingly.

She had to get out of here. Away from Max. Away from this room, and the memory of how close they had come to making love…!

‘My conscience is clear, Max—how about yours?’ she scorned, head held high.

He grimaced dismissively. ‘The same.’

She gave a disgusted shake of her head. ‘Then you must have a very different idea of what I consider acceptable behaviour!’

He shrugged. ‘For someone who was leaving at least five minutes ago, you don’t seem in any particular hurry to do so?’ He quirked mocking brows.

January drew in a sharp breath at his taunt. ‘Don’t worry, Max—I’m going. And I never want to see you again!’ She breathed agitatedly.

He gave a grim smile. ‘No chance of that happening, I’m afraid, January,’ he drawled. ‘After all, I’m still negotiating on behalf of the Marshall Corporation to buy your family farm.’

‘Over my dead body!’ she told him with feeling.

‘If you insist on driving in snowstorms—that might very well be the case,’ he mocked dryly.

She had to go. Now. Before she totally humiliated herself and began to cry!

‘Take care, January,’ Max murmured softly. ‘I hope you sleep well,’ he added tauntingly.

She gave a pained frown at this last comment, turning sharply on her heel and almost running from the room, only lingering long enough to grab her coat from the floor where it had fallen before hurrying from the hotel suite as if the devil himself were at her heels.

He was hateful. Horrible. The most horrible man she had ever met in her life!

How could she have been so stupid?

How could she have so totally misjudged a person?

How—?

‘January…?’

She looked up frowningly as she crossed the reception area of the hotel, her brow clearing slightly as she recognized John, the barman, obviously just coming in for his evening shift.

He looked at her concernedly. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

Okay? She might never be ‘okay’ again!

‘Fine,’ she assured him huskily, hoping she didn’t look as bad as she felt.

She had straightened her hair a little while travelling down in the lift, but she hadn’t been able to do anything about the paleness of her face, or that slightly bruised look to her lips.