she told him huskily.
So he had been right about that. He could also see that May wasn’t about to confide in him, of all people, exactly where she had been, or who she had really seen this morning.
He grimaced. ‘January isn’t going to thank you for inviting me to dinner.’
May shrugged. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, my youngest sister isn’t very happy with me at the moment, anyway.’ She sighed. ‘My consorting with the enemy isn’t going to make that any worse than it already is!’
Max winced. ‘The enemy? Is that really how you all see me?’
It wasn’t a very pleasant feeling, he had to admit. Oh, not all of the deals he had completed on Jude’s behalf over the years had been easy, or indeed amicable, but he had never actually seen himself as the enemy before!
It wasn’t a feeling he liked.
‘Come to dinner, Max,’ May dismissed laughingly. ‘I’m cooking roast chicken,’ she told him enticingly. ‘I’m sure a home-cooked meal isn’t something you have too often,’ she added ruefully.
This woman, Max was slowly realizing, saw altogether too much. God help the man who tried to make her his own!
‘YOU’VE done what?’ January stared at her eldest sister incredulously.
‘I said you need to lay four places at the table for dinner because I’ve invited Max to eat with us this evening,’ May repeated calmly as she continued to stir the gravy. ‘In fact, he should be here any minute.’
That was what January had thought she’d said! ‘Have you gone completely mad, May?’ she gasped.
May grimaced. ‘Not as far as I’m aware, no. Look,’ her sister continued firmly as she could see January was about to disagree with her, ‘isn’t it better to—to, well, get to know Max a little, let him get to know us in return? It’s much harder to walk all over someone if you actually know them personally,’ she reasoned impatiently as January continued to look furious.
January gave a disgusted snort. ‘Max doesn’t seem to be having too much trouble with that so far!’
She really couldn’t believe May had invited Max to dinner. Or that Max had accepted the invitation…!
He had to know, couldn’t fail to appreciate, that he was as welcome here as a rampaging bull! That he actually proposed to be more destructive than that bull!
As for May…!
‘I think you’re wrong about that, January,’ her sister said consideringly. ‘In fact, I sense a distinct wavering in his resolve to get us out of here,’ she added happily.
January shook her head. ‘Then you can see more than I can! March is going to think you’ve gone completely off your trolley, too,’ she assured her with satisfaction.
Her eldest sister shrugged. ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’ she murmured enigmatically.
‘You can, if you like,’ January snapped, pointedly laying three places at the table. ‘I would rather eat out!’
‘January—’
‘Whew, what a lousy evening!’ March complained as she swept into the kitchen, bringing a blast of cold air and falling snow in with her. ‘And talking of lousy evenings—look who I met outside!’ She stepped aside to reveal Max standing in the doorway behind her.
January stared at him, still unable to believe May seriously expected her to calmly sit down and eat dinner with him. Or that he should dare to sit down to dinner with them!
Was he so insensitive? Could he not see how unwelcome he was here? Could he not see how much she didn’t want him here?
‘Shut the door, for goodness’ sake,’ May advised briskly. ‘It looks as if it’s getting worse out there,’ she added frowningly after glancing out of the kitchen window.
‘It is,’ March confirmed ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t send a dog out there again tonight,’ she added dryly, raising mocking brows in Max’s direction. ‘Do you intend staying long, Mr Golding?’ she prompted pointedly.
Trust March to get straight to the heart of the matter, January acknowledged admiringly, at the same time shooting May a triumphant look.
‘Max is my guest, March,’ May reproved softly.
‘Really?’ March looked impressed.
Impressed wasn’t exactly the way January felt about this situation! Although March’s comment about the worsening weather pretty well put paid to her own idea of going out for the evening!
‘In that case, I had better go up and change before dinner,’ March taunted.
‘Don’t bother on my account.’ Max spoke for the first time since his arrival. ‘May assured me it would be an informal evening,’ he added with a glance down at his own casual trousers and what looked like a blue cashmere sweater beneath his thick outer jacket.
The humour increased in March’s hazel grey-green eyes. ‘I’m going to dress down, Mr Golding, not up,’ she told him laughingly before leaving the room.
‘Keep an eye on the gravy for me, will you, January?’ May asked distractedly as she followed March up the stairs.
Leaving January completely alone in the kitchen with Max. Great! Just what she had wanted!
‘Did May tell you I would be here this evening?’ he prompted, his sharp gaze passing briefly over the three places set at the table.
January glared at him. ‘We were just—discussing it, when you arrived,’ she bit out tautly.
His mouth twisted self-derisively. ‘What you really mean is that you were making it clear you aren’t exactly thrilled at my coming here,’ he accepted mockingly.
‘You knew I wouldn’t be,’ she snapped impatiently, moving to noisily lay the missing fourth place at the table. ‘How could you?’ She turned to glare at him. ‘What do you think you’re hoping to achieve? Because May—bless her!—may have been won over by you, for some inexplicable reason, but I can assure you that March and I aren’t fooled for a moment!’
He gave an admiring glance upstairs. ‘She’s something else, isn’t she?’ he murmured smilingly.
‘May or March?’ she challenged disgustedly.
‘Both of them, actually.’ He smiled. ‘For different reasons, of course.’
‘Oh, of course,’ January agreed sarcastically—not having the least idea what he meant! She hardly knew May at the moment, so illogical was her behaviour, although March—thank goodness—was her usual sharp-tongued self.
‘I bought a peace-offering.’ Max held up the bottle of wine he had been holding the whole time he’d stood beside the closed kitchen door. ‘May mentioned we were having chicken, so…’ He moved to place the bottle of white wine on the table. ‘It’s already chilled enough,’ he added dryly.
January looked at him frustratedly. ‘Why are you here, Max?’
He shrugged. ‘May invited me.’
She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘You know, when we were younger, I was always the one who brought home the wounded birds and animals, May was always the one who warned me they wouldn’t survive away from their own environment. Their own kind,’ she added pointedly.
His gaze was narrowed now, that nerve once again pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m wounded in some way?’ he finally bit out harshly.
Her