and of himself—had been enough to leave Max feeling relieved to have an excuse to avoid her.
Max realised now that he should have paid more attention earlier to Sally, and that he had absolutely no idea who, what or where this petite red-haired woman had come from.
‘Do you have a problem with that?’ Huge brown eyes now looked up at him challengingly.
Not per se, obviously; it was only three days till Janice and Amy flew in to Heathrow, after all. But the young woman standing in front of him, with her mop of wild shoulder-length red curls framing a heart-shaped face dominated by freckles and those huge brown eyes and dressed in a red cable-knit sweater and hip and thigh-hugging jeans over heavy brown boots, looked barely old enough to have left school, let alone be responsible for organising his Christmas.
She certainly wasn’t what Max had imagined when Sally had told him that someone would be going into his apartment today to start work immediately on his Christmas arrangements.
‘There was no one else at the agency available?’ he prompted uncertainly.
Sophie Carter smiled, instantly drawing Max’s attention to wide and generous lips over small, perfectly straight white teeth. Sensuously generous lips that surprisingly gave him totally inappropriate thoughts!
‘No,’ she answered him dismissively.
‘But …’
‘It’s quite simple really, Mr Hamilton—you either want me to organise Christmas for your family or you don’t. But, as I understood it, your PA has now gone away for the holidays?’ She lifted questioning auburn brows.
Max wasn’t altogether sure he liked Sophie Carter’s attitude. Or her, for that matter …
Likewise, he wasn’t sure if she liked him, if her challenging tone, and that slightly contemptuous curl to her top lip, was any indication. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Sally had vouched for his newest employee when he had confirmed she could call security at his apartment so that the woman could come in and start work putting up the Christmas decorations.
And, looking about him, he could see that Sophie Carter had done exactly that. There was already a real six foot tall Christmas tree standing in the entrance hall, not decorated yet, but there was an overflowing box of brightly coloured ornaments beside it, obviously in readiness.
There were also sprigs of real berried holly tucked behind the picture frames. That seemed to be what Sophie Carter had been doing when he’d entered the apartment and startled her into falling off the stepladder.
‘It looks great so far,’ he complimented lightly. ‘I just—For some reason, I had expected you to be older.’
‘You should have stopped while you were ahead, Mr Hamilton!’
That derisive smile grew wider, caused dimples to appear in her freckled cheeks.
Max grimaced. ‘Was I ahead?’
‘Probably not,’ she came back drily.
He gave an irritated shake of his head. ‘Have we met before?’
Sophie Carter gave a snort of laughter. ‘That’s not very likely, is it?’
Max raised dark brows. ‘Why is that?’
She gave a dismissive wave of her hand that nevertheless managed to encompass the luxury of his penthouse apartment as well as his own appearance, as opposed to her own less than sartorial elegance in jeans, a jumper and heavy boots.
Max’s own attention stayed on that slender artistic hand, the fingers long and delicate, the nails kept practically short. One of his particular hates was long, red-painted talons that could scratch a man’s back to pieces when—
Now that really was an inappropriate thought when made in connection to the hired help!
‘Do you do this sort of thing all the time or is this just a holiday job for you?’ Max tried again.
She shrugged slender shoulders. ‘I’m on Christmas break from my college course.’
Which meant she must be at least eighteen, Max realised. ‘In?’
‘Catering and business management,’ she seemed to reveal reluctantly.
‘So this is just a temp job to earn some extra money during the holidays?’ he realised.
‘Yes,’ she confirmed tightly.
Max’s brows lowered as he frowned. ‘And have you done this organising Christmas thing before?’
‘Many times,’ she assured drily.
‘Do you—’
‘Perhaps you would prefer it if I stopped what I’m doing for now?’ She spoke briskly. ‘I can easily come back again in the morning. After you’ve left for work, of course.’
What Max would really like would be to know why it was that this woman seemed to have decided she disliked him before she had even met him. Because he was pretty sure that she had. After all, his first act had been to save her from what could have been a nasty, and painful, fall onto the marble-tiled floor of his entrance hall.
He shrugged. ‘There isn’t actually a lot of time left before Christmas.’
‘No,’ Sophie acknowledged evenly, more than a little disturbed at the realisation that she found Max Hamilton so immediate, as well as so fiercely, intrusively masculine.
She had known yesterday that just the sound of his voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine—that huskily sexy voice that made a woman think of silk sheets and naked, entwined bodies.
But the last thing Sophie had been expecting was to find the man himself so attractive that her knees felt weak and her hands trembled slightly. She could kind of see where Sally’s friend Cathy had been coming from with this guy. It was just as well she and Sally had agreed not to admit to the family connection …
‘It really is your choice, Mr Hamilton,’ she added dismissively. ‘After all, you’re the one paying the bill.’
He considered her with those deep green eyes for several seconds before speaking again. ‘Maybe the two of us should start again over a glass of wine. You are old enough to drink, I take it?’ he added hastily.
‘I’m twenty-four, Mr Hamilton. I’ve been allowed to drink for several years.’ Sophie eyed him irritably.
‘Twenty-four?’ He looked startled. ‘You don’t look it.’ He eyed her doubtfully.
‘Well, you don’t look like a man who is either too busy or too lazy to organise Christmas for his sister and niece, but obviously looks can be deceiving,’ Sophie came back tartly.
And instantly had cause to regret that tartness as those hard green eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
