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