A Dream Christmas

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘WHAT 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.

CHAPTER NINE

‘I’LL DRIVE YOU HOME later tonight and you can pick up some clothes for staying here for the rest of Christmas, at the same time as you explain the situation to Henry.’

Sophie eyed Max warily as she slowly turned to look across the kitchen at him. Instantly feeling a melting sensation deep inside her, a longing, an ache for him.

Did that mean she was falling in love with Max Hamilton?

That inner melting sensation could be lust, but the fact that her heart gave a jolt in her chest every time she so much as looked at him would seem to imply that she felt something more than that. Something Sophie was sure she had never felt for any of those boys she had dated casually before her mother became so ill.

Perhaps because they had been boys and Max was so obviously a man?

A decisive and determined man who had now decided, and was just as determined, that she was going to stay here in his apartment for the rest of the Christmas holiday.

In his bedroom?

It wasn’t such a huge leap to take when she considered the passion that seemed to flare up between the two of them so easily, along with his threat earlier that this wasn’t over. In truth, Sophie wasn’t sure she would have the strength to resist if that was what Max had also decided.

She straightened. ‘I’m not sure what situation you’re referring to.

‘Also,’ she continued firmly as he would have spoken, ‘as I’ve already said, thank you for the offer, but I really can’t stay here.’ There was no way she could possibly leave Henry on his own in Sally’s flat for the next two days and nights. Or allow Max to realise it was Sally’s apartment she was staying in …

‘Because of Henry,’ Max guessed.

Her chin rose. ‘Yes.’

His eyes were narrowed to glittering emerald slits. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

Sophie gave a humourless laugh. ‘There are so many things I haven’t told you—and that you haven’t asked—that I wouldn’t even know where to begin.’

His mouth thinned. ‘I’ve asked about Henry.’

‘And I’ve told you all that you need to know about him.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘You—’

‘I do know that you’re twenty-four years old,’ Max continued determinedly. ‘That both your parents are dead. That you’re currently taking a catering and business course at college. That you’re already an amazing cook, if those smells coming from the oven are any indication,’ he added appreciatively. ‘That you claim not to have a current boyfriend or lover.’ He scowled darkly before his brow cleared as he looked at her. ‘That you have an understated and yet totally mesmerising beauty. And the most amazingly soft and kissable lips.’ His voice had lowered huskily, seductively. ‘That your breasts are extremely sensitive to my touch …’

‘That’s enough,’ Sophie cut in uncomfortably, Max’s last two claims embarrassing her, as the previous ones had surprised her. Max thought she was beautiful? That aside, he did know a lot more about her than she had realised.

As she knew a lot about him?

She knew that he was thirty-four years old. That both his parents had died around Christmas sixteen years ago, probably in an accident of some kind. That he was a self-made billionaire who shied away from relationships, perhaps because of the early loss of his parents, resulting in a fear of emotional commitment?

That he was without doubt the most attractive man Sophie had ever met in her life. That he had the most amazingly soft and sensuous lips. That the hardness of his arousal—a direct response to her proximity?—had been pressed against her just minutes ago.

‘We have plenty of time to fill in the other details later, surely?’ Max urged huskily.

Such as the fact that Sophie was falling in love with him?

She somehow doubted that was something Max wished to hear. From any woman. ‘I’m sorry, but my answer is still no,’ she refused again stubbornly.

His jaw tightened. ‘I am driving you home, Sophie, and you are staying here for the rest of Christmas.’

‘You—’

‘It’s settled, Sophie,’ he added decisively, putting an end to the conversation by turning sharply on his heel and leaving the kitchen.

And a very flustered and equally frustrated Sophie.

SHE REMAINED FLUSTERED and frustrated for the rest of the evening, Max insisting she would sit down in the dining room with the family to eat dinner with them. An invitation that was echoed by the whole of the Hilton family, thus making it impossible for Sophie to refuse without making a scene.

She felt most uncomfortable removing her pinafore and sitting down at the table with all of them to enjoy the first course of homemade pâté, followed by the main course of salmon and assorted vegetables, and then a delicious chocolate concoction made from her own recipe, in deference to five-year-old Amy.

Even more disturbing was having Max sitting next to her, looking devastatingly attractive in an emerald-green cashmere sweater and black tailored trousers, and insisting on serving her food to her. As if she really were a guest rather than the hired help.

As if she were Max’s very personal guest.

Having Max behave so attentively towards her made Sophie a little uncomfortable, but if the Hiltons noticed it then they chose not to comment on it. They were a gregarious family, the conversation never flagging, and Max became equally relaxed in their easy-going company.

To add to the excitement of the evening, Janice made the announcement that she was expecting her second child as they lingered at the dinner table drinking coffee and eating the chocolates Sophie had made. Amy was ecstatic at the thought of having a baby brother or sister, but Sophie noticed that Tom and Max seemed less enthusiastic as they shared a concerned glance.

Causing Sophie to wonder, with the timing of the announcement and Tom and Max’s attitude to the news, if perhaps this second pregnancy had something to do with the couple’s earlier marital problems.

A question she put to Max when he drove her back to the flat later that evening.

Sophie had lost that part of the argument, at least.

As she had fully expected she might, after Max had been so insistent earlier this evening, and noticeably hadn’t drunk any wine with his meal. Because he’d had every intention of driving her home, no matter what her objections. The Hiltons had added to the pressure of her accepting Max’s offer of driving her home by assuring her they had every intention of clearing away after dinner.

In the end it was just easier for Sophie to accept Max’s offer rather than trying to find a firm who had an available taxi that would come out this late on Christmas Eve. Most of London’s taxis would be busy driving people home from parties and clubs this evening.

However, she had no intention of losing the argument regarding staying at Max’s apartment for the rest of Christmas.

She had cautiously given Max an address that was in the general area of Sally’s flat, rather than specific to it; there was absolutely no reason why Max should ever have bothered himself to learn where his PA lived, but Sophie thought it best not to take any chances.

‘Janice isn’t supposed to have any more children,’ Max answered Sophie now with a grimace as he drove his car through the busy London streets. Christmas lights were blazing everywhere and a light sprinkling of snow had started to fall to add to the magic of the evening.

‘What does that mean?’

He shrugged. ‘She had a difficult time with Amy’s birth and the doctors advised that she not have any more children. Tom offered to have a vasectomy at the time, but Janice wouldn’t allow it. Any more than she would agree to have this pregnancy terminated when it was confirmed last month, which is why she and Tom argued and Tom moved out for a couple of weeks, hoping to shock her into changing her mind. It didn’t, so Tom’s just given up. My sister can be extremely stubborn when she wants to be,’ he added with a frown. ‘And yes, it’s a family trait,’ he said drily as he saw the knowing rise of Sophie’s brows.

‘I would never have guessed,’ she drawled mockingly, before sobering. ‘Is Janice going to be all right?’

‘Tom and I will ensure that she is,’ Max confirmed grimly; he had no intention of losing his sister too. ‘Which street and building?’ he prompted as they entered the area of London where Sophie had said she was staying.