Christmas with a Billionaire: Billionaire under the Mistletoe / Snowed in with Her Boss / A Diamond for Christmas. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
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