His Cinderella Mistress

He nodded, blue eyes dancing with merriment. ‘A cup of tea in bed about then will be very welcome!’

May gave a snort of dismissal. ‘Guest or not, if we don’t have that luxury, then neither do you!’

He shrugged. ‘I would be quite happy to bring you all a cup of tea in bed.’

May’s gaze narrowed. ‘I’ll just bet you would—’

‘He’s winding you up, May,’ January cut in once again, shaking her head reprovingly at Max even as she chuckled softly. ‘But if you should get the urge to make an early cup of tea, Max, we all take ours without sugar!’ she added even as she pushed her sister towards the door. ‘You were the one who invited him here in the first place,’ she reminded May lightly once they were outside the bedroom, the door safely closed behind them.

‘I may have done,’ May snapped. ‘But I told you why that was. I certainly didn’t think he had the nerve to try to seduce my little sister right under my nose!’ she added indignantly.

‘Your little sister is twenty-five years old,’ January reminded her dryly. ‘And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.’

May shook her head. ‘Not where Max Golding is concerned, I’ve just realized,’ she said slowly. ‘January, are you serious—?’

‘Could we leave this for tonight, May?’ she cut in firmly, her earlier humour having completely disappeared. ‘I’m really not in the mood to discuss Max any more tonight,’ she added heavily.

May looked at her searchingly for several long minutes, before slowly nodding her head. ‘Okay,’ she agreed huskily. ‘But just—never mind.’ She shook her head, smiling. ‘Everything will look different

in the morning,’ she added brightly.

January was glad her sister had said different, and not better. Because somehow January doubted it would be that. In the morning she would still be in love with Max. And that couldn’t be good. For any of them.

Considering he had doubted that he would sleep at all, with January so close and yet so unattainable, Max found he had slept for almost eight hours, a glance at his wrist-watch telling him it was almost seven o’clock.

Way past time for taking January—or anyone else!—a cup of tea in bed!

He smiled as he imagined May’s indignation if he had arrived in the sisters’ bedrooms with the suggested morning tea. Whatever had prompted the eldest Calendar sister to invite him to dinner last night, May had definitely changed her mind about the wisdom of that invitation by the time she’d come looking for January in this bedroom later in the evening.

Wisely so, Max acknowledged with a self-derisive grimace.

No matter what he did, how hard he tried to keep a distance between himself and January, to concentrate on the business side of their relationship rather than the personal, he invariably ended up kissing her instead!

Maybe—

He heard a door slam downstairs, followed by muffled noises outside, evidence that the sisters were indeed up and about. And May, at least, was no doubt frowning disapprovingly about his own tardiness in getting up!

She was also right about the coldness of the farmhouse, he discovered a few minutes later as he hurriedly dressed before going to the bathroom across the hall, the tiles in there ultra cold on his sock-covered feet.

And the most he had to compare this cold discomfort with was the times he went skiing, when he spent his evenings and nights in a wonderfully warm ski lodge, his days wrapped up warmly as he skied the slopes. Hardly any comparison at all!

You’re getting soft, Golding, he told himself disgustedly, at the same time acknowledging that he was ill-equipped to survive in conditions like these. Which also made him wonder why on earth the Calendar sisters would want to…!

Only May and March were in evidence when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, this room much warmer than the rest of the house, Max realized thankfully.

‘Coffee?’ March offered abruptly as she held up the steaming pot invitingly.

‘Thanks.’ He nodded distractedly, aware of May’s brooding silence as she sat at the kitchen table drinking her own warm brew, studiously ignoring him, it seemed.

‘Help yourself to milk and sugar,’ March told him dismissively as she placed a mug of coffee on the table for him. ‘In case you’re wondering, January is over in the shed dealing with early milking,’ she added dryly.

Was he really that obvious? Max wondered with a scowl. Probably, he conceded heavily. To January’s sisters, at least…

‘Now that we’ve cleared the drifts away from the doors and a path over to the shed,’ May put in pointedly.

While he lingered in his bed trying to build up the courage to get out of the warmth of the bedclothes into the cold of the room, May implied, but didn’t actually say.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ he offered—and as quickly realized how ridiculous he sounded; what on earth did he know about any of the workings of a farm?