evenings—look who I met outside!’ She stepped aside to reveal Max standing in the doorway behind her.
January stared at him, still unable to believe May seriously expected her to calmly sit down and eat dinner with him. Or that he should dare to sit down to dinner with them!
Was he so insensitive? Could he not see how unwelcome he was here? Could he not see how much she didn’t want him here?
‘Shut the door, for goodness’ sake,’ May advised briskly. ‘It looks as if it’s getting worse out there,’ she added frowningly after glancing out of the kitchen window.
‘It is,’ March confirmed ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t send a dog out there again tonight,’ she added dryly, raising mocking brows in Max’s direction. ‘Do you intend staying long, Mr Golding?’ she prompted pointedly.
Trust March to get straight to the heart of the matter, January acknowledged admiringly, at the same time shooting May a triumphant look.
‘Max is my guest, March,’ May reproved softly.
‘Really?’ March looked impressed.
Impressed wasn’t exactly the way January felt about this situation! Although March’s comment about the worsening weather pretty well put paid to her own idea of going out for the evening!
‘In that case, I had better go up and change before dinner,’ March taunted.
‘Don’t bother on my account.’ Max spoke for the first time since his arrival. ‘May assured me it would be an informal evening,’ he added with a glance down at his own casual trousers and what looked like a blue cashmere sweater beneath his thick outer jacket.
The humour increased in March’s hazel grey-green eyes. ‘I’m going to dress down, Mr Golding, not up,’ she told him laughingly before leaving the room.
‘Keep an eye on the gravy for me, will you, January?’ May asked distractedly as she followed March up the stairs.
Leaving January completely alone in the kitchen with Max. Great! Just what she had wanted!
‘Did May tell you I would be here this evening?’ he prompted, his sharp gaze passing briefly over the three places set at the table.
January glared at him. ‘We were just—discussing it, when you arrived,’ she bit out tautly.
His mouth twisted self-derisively. ‘What you really mean is that you were making it clear you aren’t exactly thrilled at my coming here,’ he accepted mockingly.
‘You knew I wouldn’t be,’ she snapped impatiently, moving to noisily lay the missing fourth place at the table. ‘How could you?’ She turned to glare at him. ‘What do you think you’re hoping to achieve? Because May—bless her!—may have been won over by you, for some inexplicable reason, but I can assure you that March and I aren’t fooled for a moment!’
He gave an admiring glance upstairs. ‘She’s something else, isn’t she?’ he murmured smilingly.
‘May or March?’ she challenged disgustedly.
‘Both of them, actually.’ He smiled. ‘For different reasons, of course.’
‘Oh, of course,’ January agreed sarcastically—not having the least idea what he meant! She hardly knew May at the moment, so illogical was her behaviour, although March—thank goodness—was her usual sharp-tongued self.
‘I bought a peace-offering.’ Max held up the bottle of wine he had been holding the whole time he’d stood beside the closed kitchen door. ‘May mentioned we were having chicken, so…’ He moved to place the bottle of white wine on the table. ‘It’s already chilled enough,’ he added dryly.
January looked at him frustratedly. ‘Why are you here, Max?’
He shrugged. ‘May invited me.’
She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘You know, when we were younger, I was always the one who brought home the wounded birds and animals, May was always the one who warned me they wouldn’t survive away from their own environment. Their own kind,’ she added pointedly.
His gaze was narrowed now, that nerve once again pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘I hope you’re not implying that I’m wounded in some way?’ he finally bit out harshly.
Her eyes flashed impatiently. ‘I was implying that you should stay with your own kind!’ Obviously her sarcasm was completely lost on this man! But then, she hadn’t had as much practice at it as March had. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn…
Max’s brow cleared, his smile rueful now. ‘And exactly what is my own kind, January?’
‘Predatory!’ she answered with satisfaction.
He gave a disarming grin. ‘I have a feeling that any man would find himself completely outgunned—as well as outnumbered—by the three Calendar sisters!’
January did her best to maintain her furious expression—and failed miserably as her lips twitched and she began to smile, too. What was it about this man? How could she start off being angry or distant with him—usually angry!—and then end up grinning at him like an idiot? It didn’t make any sense!
‘January,’ he murmured softly, crossing the room to stand in front of her, his hands moving up to gently cradle each side of her face as he looked down at her searchingly. ‘I really thought it might have been you who was attacked last night,’ he groaned huskily.
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘And that would have bothered you?’
A frown darkened his brow. ‘Of course it would have bothered me!’ he rasped. ‘You must have known that…?’ He looked down at her frustratedly, fingers lightly caressing her brows.
She gave a shake of her head. ‘I’m not sure what I know any more, Max. One minute you’re—you’re making love to me, and the next—! Well, we both know what happened next,’ she remembered hardly, deliberately moving away, his hands falling back to his sides.
Just in time, as it happened, her two sisters coming back into the kitchen at that moment, May’s sharp gaze instantly taking in the fact that the two of them stood well apart, the tension between them tangible.
‘March was just telling me that there’s been another attack,’ May said briskly as she moved to check the food cooking on top of the Aga.
‘I meant to tell you earlier,’ January groaned. ‘But I—it slipped my mind.’ She deliberately avoided looking at Max—because they both knew he was the reason she had forgotten to mention this latest attack to her sister.
‘I meant to tell you all when I came in,’ March muttered self-disgustedly. ‘But for some reason it slipped my mind, too.’ She gave Max a pointed grimace, having changed into black denims and a bright orange jumper, the latter eye-catching, to say the least.
‘There seems to be a lot of it about,’ Max murmured appreciatively.
‘Yes,’ March drawled wryly.
‘Tell them the worst part about it, March,’
