given him her heartfelt thanks for the gift, and he had distractedly thanked her for his own present of the book from her.
Sophie had kept herself busy in the kitchen all morning and Christmas lunch had been a great success. The turkey had been cooked to perfection, along with an assortment of roasted vegetables, with Christmas and chocolate pudding to follow—the latter was for Amy—accompanied by Sophie’s own special brandy cream and ice cream.
Sophie had still been a little uncomfortable as the family once again insisted that she had to sit down and join them for the meal. She was so very aware, still, of the gulf that now yawned between herself and Max.
But she needn’t have worried because Max had gone out of his way to be polite to her today.
Too polite, if Sophie was honest with herself. She much preferred the rude irascible Max to this polite stranger.
She eyed him warily now. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘I think the two of us should talk, don’t you?’ He leant back against the kitchen table, arms folded in front of his powerful chest as he studied her from between narrowed lids. He looked very handsome in a black silk shirt and faded blue jeans, his dark hair as tousled as ever.
Sophie gave him a nervous glance as she placed the mince pies onto a plate. ‘If this is about me not telling you of my family connection to Sally …’
‘It isn’t. Although I’m interested to know why you made that decision.’ His eyes had narrowed questioningly.
Sophie chewed on her bottom lip. ‘Sally mentioned that you once had a problem with a friend of hers who took over as your PA while Sally was away on holiday.’
‘Cathy Lawrence,’ he muttered with feeling.
‘Yes.’ She winced at those obvious feelings of disgust. ‘I was the one who persuaded Sally into not revealing our own family connection. Just in case I messed up too,’ she added awkwardly.
His eyes darkened with amusement. ‘The difference being that I would have welcomed you throwing yourself at me every chance you got.’
‘Instead of which, I threw you.’ Her cheeks burned with remembered embarrassment. ‘Onto the kitchen floor,’ she reminded him with a wince.
Max shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I deserved it.’
‘But …’
‘Stop worrying, Sophie; I assure you, there will be no repercussions on Sally for any of this. The opposite, in fact,’ he added huskily. ‘This Christmas has been more than I could ever have hoped for. It’s been magical,’ Max continued softly. ‘And that’s mainly due to you.’
‘Me?’ Sophie echoed softly. ‘I didn’t do anything that you didn’t pay me to do.’
Max’s mouth tightened. ‘We both know you’ve gone way above and beyond what I asked for,’ he corrected huskily. ‘In fact, none of this—’ his glance encompassed the whole of his apartment; the sound of his niece’s laughter heard from the next room, the decorations, the wonderful, and deeply nostalgic, smells of the Christmas food cooking ‘—would have been possible without you.’
‘I’m sure you would have managed well enough without me, hired someone else to …’
‘That’s the whole point, Sophie.’ Max straightened as he looked down at her intensely. ‘I’ve realised this last few days that I don’t want anyone else. That managing is exactly what I’ve been doing for so many years. Without you.’
She shot him a nervous glance from beneath lowered lashes. ‘I don’t understand.’
He smiled at her with sympathy; after the shock and, yes, he admitted it, anger of realising that Sophie had hidden from him that she was Sally’s cousin it had taken him twenty-four hours of soul-searching to reach his own conclusions as to why he felt so angry. He couldn’t expect Sophie to understand how he felt after just a couple of minutes of conversation. Or expect her to feel the same way about him as he now felt about her.
The only encouragement he had was that he knew Sophie responded to him on a physical level, at least. The rest would have to be worked at.
Which was a pretty scary thought for a man who had never in his life felt the least inclination to work at a relationship with a woman before now.
Before Sophie.
He smiled slightly. ‘I love the book you bought me for Christmas, by the way. I’ve been meaning to buy it for months, I just never got around to it, was always too busy doing something else.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ She still eyed him warily. ‘As you can see, I love my pashmina.’ She was wearing it about her neck right now, the russet and brown colours looking wonderful against the red of her hair.
‘I’m glad.’ Max nodded. ‘Sophie …’ He gave a grimace as he paused impatiently.
‘Yes?’
Max straightened his shoulders determinedly. ‘I may as well come straight out with it and just tell you how I feel.’
‘How you feel about what?’ Sophie looked completely bewildered by his intensity.
She might look even more bewildered in a moment, but it was a risk Max had to take. That he was determined to take. ‘Everything you’ve said and thought about me was correct. I’ve avoided celebrating Christmas for years because of my parents’ deaths on Christmas Eve sixteen years ago. I found it an irritation; I even resented having to organise Christmas here this year for Janice and Amy. And I have a reputation when it comes to women. Have never so much as contemplated a serious relationship with one.’
‘Max …’
‘Until now,’ he completed firmly. ‘Until you,’ he added huskily as he reached out to take both her hands in his. ‘Sophie—’ He drew in a deep steadying breath. ‘Being with you these past few days, feeling my apartment become a home rather than just a place for me to sleep. Laughing with you, arguing with you, kissing you …’
‘Oh, please don’t!’ She groaned her embarrassment.
He gave a wide smile. ‘I love kissing you and touching you, Sophie. Just as I love laughing and arguing with you. In fact, I love it all so much, I love you so much, I want to go on doing it for the rest of my life.’
Sophie had ceased breathing as she gazed up at Max searchingly, wonderingly, sure she must be dreaming. Or that she had somehow fallen over and bumped her head and was imagining all of this. Because Max—Max Hamilton, billionaire CEO and owner of Hamilton Enterprises, a man who had avoided emotional involvement for all of his adult life—couldn’t possibly have just told her that he loved her. Could he?
She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘You were so angry with me last night.’
‘I was angry with myself,’ he corrected. ‘And totally confused by the depth of that anger. It’s taken me until now to admit why that was. Sophie, I’m no good at this sort of thing, have no idea how to go about courting you, wooing you, winning you, let alone persuading you into loving me as I love you.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘But I would dearly like you—in
