The Deserving Mistress

Used to. Because, as Jude now knew only too well, having checked up on the Calendar sisters a little more thoroughly after Max had got himself engaged to one of them, neither of the Calendar parents were still alive, the mother having died while the three girls were still very young, the father only a year ago.

Which really made him feel good about trying to buy the farm out from under them!

‘Then you should have listened to him!’ he rasped, no longer sure whether it was May or himself that he was angry with.

One thing he did know, he needed to get this whole thing back into perspective, to concentrate on his objective, which was to buy this land and then leave.

And, to do that, he had to get away from May Calendar.

Besides, April would be waiting for him back at the hotel. Charming, entertaining, thoroughly agreeable April.

May Calendar looked at him unblinkingly. ‘I did listen to him, Mr Marshall, but I don’t have to listen to you—’

‘That’s it!’ His patience, what there was of it, had been blown completely at her determined continuation of the formal ‘Mr Marshall’. Damn it, he had tried to be kind to her—even though she would so obviously have preferred that he wasn’t—to be reasonable; he had even bought her dinner.

With no ulterior motive? a little voice taunted inside his head.

And what if there had been? She could still have been a little more grateful than she had.

May eyed him mockingly now. ‘That’s what, Mr Marshall?’ She smiled tauntingly.

‘This,’ he bit out forcefully—seconds before he swept her up into his arms and kissed that mocking smile right off her lips.

Mistake, Jude, he admitted with an inward groan. Mistake!

She tasted of honey. Her lips were soft and responsive—probably because she was too surprised to do anything else, he acknowledged ruefully, even as he moulded her body against his, the warmth of her breasts crushed against his chest, the dark swathe of her silky hair falling down over his arm as he tilted her head back to deepen the kiss.

Nectar.

Sweet, sweet, nectar.

So intent was he on tasting that nectar that he didn’t at first notice the tiny fists pummelling against his chest, only coming to a full awareness of her resistance as she wrenched her lips away from his to glare up at him.

‘Let go of me,’ she ordered furiously, pushing ineffectually at his chest now. ‘You—you—’

‘Yes?’ he derided challengingly even as his arms dropped back to his sides and he stepped away from her.

It had taken several seconds to get his own raging emotions back under control, but now that he had…

Exactly what had he thought he was doing? Okay, so May was beautiful, immensely desirable, challenging—but she was also, in this particular situation, the opposition!

She put up a hand to her slightly swollen lips, her eyes wide and accusing as she looked up at him. ‘I have no idea where you thought such behaviour was going to get you, but… Get out,’ she told him quietly, shaking her head dazedly. ‘Just get out.’

Oh, he was going, intended putting as much distance between himself and this woman as possible.

She was dangerous. To his self-control. To his self-preservation. To his self-possessed existence!

He gave her a deliberately mocking smile. ‘Don’t feel too bad about responding, May,’ he said tauntingly. ‘You won’t be the first woman to do so—or the last,’ he added derisively.

If anything her face paled even more, those glittering green eyes the only colour in her face now. ‘Get out!’ she repeated between clenched teeth.

Jude calmly bent to pick up the jacket he had dropped seconds ago to take her into his arms, easily holding her accusing gaze as he put the jacket on, deliberately taking his time, much to her obvious impatience.

‘Have something else to eat, May,’ he drawled as he walked to the door. ‘It would be a pity to waste all that food just because you don’t like the person who bought it for you,’ he added dryly.

‘Goodbye, Mr Marshall,’ she said as pointedly as he had to the man called David a few minutes ago.

Jude paused in the open doorway. ‘Oh, not goodbye, May,’ he assured her grimly. ‘Unlike my—associates, I don’t intend leaving until I’ve done what I came here to do.’