looked up at him, those deep brown eyes flashing her resentment at the question. ‘What does that have to do with what I’m doing now?’
Nothing at all. Except that Max knew that for some reason Sophie Carter didn’t want to tell him.
Maybe she had been married and was now divorced and branching out on her own? Or maybe she had needed to work for a few years in order to save up the money to put herself through college? Or—
‘Perhaps you could tell me a little about your sister and niece, so that I have some idea what presents to buy them when I go shopping tomorrow?’ Sophie’s eyes were still slightly red from when she had choked on the wine, her nose too, and her lips were slightly puffy.
Max found his gaze lingering a little too long on those puffy lips.
‘Mr Hamilton?’
‘Call me Max,’ he invited distractedly.
‘I would prefer to keep our relationship on a purely professional footing,’ she answered him primly.
And Max was rapidly coming to the realisation that he would much rather they didn’t, that he found Sophie Carter extremely intriguing!
A knee-jerk reaction to having realised Cynthia Maitland’s unwanted expectations of him?
Possibly.
Although he somehow doubted it.
As a self-made billionaire, Max had long ago become accustomed to, and irritated by, the pound signs that gleamed in a woman’s eyes whenever she looked at him.
The only thing gleaming in Sophie Carter’s expressive eyes when she looked at him was disapproval. For men in general? Or was it something specific about him, in particular, she didn’t like or approve of?
And why the hell should it matter to him, one way or the other, what Sophie Carter did or didn’t think of him?
It didn’t was the answer to that question.
He shrugged. ‘Janice likes silk scarves. And Amy is into horses rather than dolls. Or at least she was the last time I spoke to her.’
‘Your sister’s colouring?’
‘Janice is tall, with the same colouring as mine. Except she’s beautiful, of course,’ he added drily.
Sophie’s gaze dropped from meeting that probing green one as she inwardly acknowledged that Max Hamilton was extremely beautiful, in a purely alpha male and masculine way, of course. That overlong ebony hair was silky soft, his face all hard and masculine angles, his body appearing even more so beneath that perfectly tailored suit and white silk shirt.
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