‘No?’ January derided disbelievingly. ‘Then you’re going to get even more of a shock when—or if!—you meet March; “like three peas in a pod”, our father used to say about us,’ she told him dismissively.
‘I said there was a likeness, January; the way you look, the sound of your voice, is utterly unique,’ he assured her evenly.
Her mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘Of course it is,’ she humoured scathingly. ‘Well, if you wouldn’t mind moving your vehicle out of my way; some of us have work to do.’
Max looked at her closely, a frown between his eyes as his gaze narrowed. ‘Is that bump on your head from the accident earlier?’
Her gloved hand moved up instinctively to cover the discolouration at her temple. She would be lying if she claimed that it didn’t hurt, because it did; she just had no intention of discussing her injury—or her inner pain—with Max Golding!
‘January?’ he prompted sharply.
‘Yes, it is,’ she confirmed dismissively. ‘If you turn your car around in the gateway just behind you—’
‘January, I am not interested in discussing turning the car around,’ he bit out in fiercely measured tones.
Her eyes flashed a warning. ‘Well, I’m not interested in discussing anything else with you—which pretty well leaves us with nothing left to say to each other!’ She turned back to the tractor.
Only to have her arm clasped between steely fingers as Max swung her back round to face him.
‘I have several things I want to say to you,’ he told her forcefully, blue eyes glittering dangerously. ‘Firstly, I repeat my claim that I had no idea of your connection with the Calendar farm—’
‘And I repeat that I don’t believe you!’ she came back harshly.
Max became suddenly still, his eyes so pale a blue now they looked almost grey. ‘I don’t tell lies, January,’ he bit out coldly. ‘Have you seen a doctor about that bump on the head?’ he changed the subject frowningly.
Her mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘Careful, you’re starting to sound like May again!’
; His mouth tightened at her deliberate barb. ‘If she’s as concerned about you as I am then I think I like your elder sister.’
January’s cheeks became angrily flushed as she gave a humourless smile. ‘I very much doubt the sentiment is reciprocated!’
Max shook his head. ‘I’m not out to win popularity contests, I’m only interested in making sure you’ve suffered no ill effects from the accident—’
‘The only “ill effects” I have are from having to look at you any longer than I need to!’ January told him insultingly, at last managing to pull her arm out of his grasp as she glared up at him. ‘Now, are you going to move your car, or do I have to go round you by taking the tractor into one of the fields?’ she challenged hardly.
Move, she pleaded inwardly. Just move. If only so that she could get away from his overwhelming presence. Because if he didn’t soon move, she was very much afraid she was going to cry!
At the moment, her only defence against her feelings for this man was her anger. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to maintain it.
Max stared at her frustratedly. She was, without doubt, the most stubborn, most determined—
More stubborn than he was? More determined than he was? Somehow he didn’t think so.
At the moment, January was furiously angry with him for what she thought of as his deception. He could see only too clearly that nothing he said or did just now—or in the immediate future, for that matter—was going to change her feelings for him. Besides, he was in something of a quandary himself, had always made it a rule to keep his private and business life completely separate. That way there was never any question of a conflict of interest.
January Calendar. Of all the women he could have found himself so attracted to, it had to be one of the Calendar sisters!
What were the chances of that happening? Really? Almost nil, he would have said, with the farm being such a distance away from the hotel. That little mischief called Fate, he felt, was playing some sort of game with him.
But he had challenged Fate before, and won; he could win this time, too. If he still wanted to…
That was the real problem here. He had been stunned to learn that January was one of the three Calendar sisters he had been sent here to persuade into selling their farm. More than stunned. In truth, he simply didn’t know what to do about it. A most unusual occurrence for him.
‘You won’t agree to see a doctor about that bump on the head?’ He tried one last time to make her see sense about that at least.
‘No, I won’t,’ she came back predictably.