A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер
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driving, but I think I’ll pass on the wine, after all, if you don’t mind.’
Max found that he did mind, that he had been enjoying himself talking to the unexpectedly outspoken and equally as intriguing Sophie Carter.
Most women, he had found, tended to be an open book. At least, as far as their interest in him was concerned. Cynthia had gone one step further by actually expecting commitment, of course, but otherwise he knew it was his bank balance that was a woman’s primary interest in him.
Not only did Ms Carter seem to disapprove of him—or his wealth?—but she also remained something of an enigma herself. It was a long time since Max had found himself this interested in learning more about a certain woman.
And that woman happened to be the same one with whom he would be spending the run up to Christmas. ‘Will you also be the one doing the cooking for us over Christmas?’
‘The food is already ordered and due to be delivered before your sister and niece arrive on Friday.’ Sophie nodded. ‘Unless you would prefer to find someone else to do the actual catering?’
‘Not at all,’ Max assured smoothly. ‘You don’t have family or friends you would rather be with?’
‘I already told you, I’m an orphan.’
That wasn’t exactly what Max had wanted to know.
But perhaps Christmas this year, with the presence of the feisty Sophie Carter, wouldn’t be just another day to him, as it had been for more years than Max cared to remember.
‘LET ME HELP YOU with those!’
Sophie almost dropped all the bags and parcels she was struggling to carry into Max Hamilton’s apartment at hearing the unexpected sound of his voice somewhere in front and above her. Having spent most of the afternoon shopping—on his credit card!—she hadn’t expected him to have returned home from his office just yet.
‘Did you buy the whole of the toyshop or just half of it?’ he drawled ruefully as he took the parcels out of her arms to reveal that he must have been home for some time to have changed into a casual black cashmere sweater and faded jeans, his overlong dark hair as sexily tousled as ever.
And, if that was even possible, he was looking even more deliciously gorgeous than he had yesterday in that perfectly tailored suit and silk shirt.
‘Just half of it.’ Sophie eyed him ruefully as she carried the shopping bags through to the elegant cream-and-brown sitting room, now dominated by an eight foot tall and fully decorated Christmas tree standing in the corner of the room beside the fireplace. ‘Perhaps you would like to help me wrap them all up?’ she added derisively.
He eyed her thoughtfully. ‘I would, as it happens.’
Sophie gave him a startled look; she hadn’t actually been serious in the suggestion—had considered it a threat rather than a genuine option. ‘You would?’
‘Why not?’ He placed the parcels down on the three-seater sofa. ‘You’ve obviously been busy already today.’
He gave the tree a pointed glance, coloured lights sparkling amongst the thick, green, sweet-smelling bowers and the red-and-gold decorations, with an elegant fairy adorning the top branch.
Sophie had also decorated the tree in the entrance hall today, but with a silver-and-red theme and a silver star twinkling on the top.
‘I have to say, Sophie, that I’m really impressed with all your hard work so far.’ Max Hamilton nodded his approval. ‘The least I can do is to help giftwrap the presents after you’ve been out and chosen all of them.’
Sophie really had been joking earlier; she had no real desire to share wrapping Christmas presents with Max Hamilton, of all people.
Years of wrapping presents with her mother, enjoying the laughter, the pleasure and later the odd glass of wine, told her it was far too intimate a pastime to share with a man who made her feel nervous at the best of times. And so far there had been very few of those between the two of them!
Max didn’t know whether to be amused or enchanted by Sophie’s appearance in a red coat, the hood of the coat edged with white fur. She wore fur-trimmed gloves on her elegant hands, and there was even fur topping the calf-high boots worn over her jeans. She looked like a very petite and cuddly Mrs Santa Claus!
Enchanted probably wasn’t a good thing when Max already found Sophie far too intriguing for their current situation as employer and temporary employee.
But she really had transformed his home in a short space of time, the smell of fresh pine having hit his nose the moment he’d entered the apartment an hour or so ago. The tree decorations were tasteful rather than garish, the coloured lights twinkling merrily when he’d switched them on, and there were yet more sprigs of fresh holly adorning the pictures in the sitting room.
There were even three beautifully embroidered stockings draped across the arm of one of the chairs, no doubt placed there ready to be hung up for Janice, Amy and himself on Christmas Eve.
And she had returned his handkerchief to him, ironed as well as laundered!
‘I’m being paid—very generously, I might add!—to buy and giftwrap the Christmas presents for your sister and niece,’ Sophie Carter reminded him tartly.
Max found himself irritated that she had deliberately reminded him of that fact. ‘Nothing for me?’ he drawled.
Those deep brown eyes widened. ‘You would hardly be giving yourself a present!’
He quirked a mocking brow. ‘Does that mean you didn’t buy me a present, either?’
‘Why on earth would I do th …? Very funny, Mr Hamilton.’ She placed the half a dozen or so bags down on the sofa next to the parcels, along with the wrapping paper and labels, before straightening.
Max found himself wondering what sort of present Sophie Carter might buy him.
He usually received an expensive shirt, or maybe a sweater or aftershave, if there happened to be a woman in his life at Christmastime, but Sophie was a student, and obviously didn’t have a lot of money, so what sort of gift would she choose? Something inexpensive but personal? Or maybe—
Damn it, Max had found himself thinking of his employee far too much today already!
Sally was well on her way to Canada by now and, without the help of his efficient PA, his own day had been even busier than usual. But still he had found time to sit and muse about the fiery-haired Sophie Carter …
He knew from their conversation the previous day that she was an orphan, aged twenty-four and at catering college.
What he still didn’t know was if she had a man in her life; the fact that Sophie was willing to spend Christmas cooking for his family would seem to imply that she didn’t.
Max had deliberately chosen to spend his Christmases skiing the last ten years, since Janice had married Tom and moved to the States, and he had been only too glad to do so. Very occasionally he had taken a woman with him, but more often than not he had preferred to go alone, well away from all the festivities and anyone who knew him.
Sophie Carter didn’t seem to have any choice but to spend Christmas alone, possibly without any presents to open up on Christmas morning either, except maybe something from friends?
It made Max feel guilty at the amount of expensive gifts she had gone out and chosen for Janice and Amy today. Totally illogically, he realised; it wasn’t up to him to provide a happy Christmas or presents for every waif and stray who crossed his path. Even if he wanted to.
Which he didn’t, he told himself firmly.
Max had been eighteen