‘STILL here?’ January greeted Max rudely when she arrived at work on Thursday evening and found him once again sitting at the bar. ‘Don’t you have any little old ladies to throw out of their homes into the snow?’ she added challengingly. ‘Evening, John,’ she greeted more warmly as she walked over to the piano.
Her mood had alternated between annoyance and puzzlement since Max’s telephone call yesterday evening, the former usually winning out, her resentment at his wanting to know where she had been far outweighing any puzzlement she might feel concerning the strange unrelatedness of that single question he had asked her.
‘And a good evening to you, too, January,’ Max drawled as he turned on his bar stool to watch her. ‘And, unless I’m mistaken, there isn’t any snow left for me to throw the little old ladies onto; it’s all melted away!’
‘Your boss intends turning Hanworth Manor into a hotel and health club!’ she returned scathingly, March at last having come with the information they wanted. ‘This is Yorkshire, Max, not the south of France!’
His brows rose over mocking blue eyes. ‘You don’t think the people of Yorkshire are into health and beauty?’
‘On the contrary, I’m sure that they are,’ she snapped. ‘I just don’t think your boss has studied the climate in this area too well. The snow a couple of days ago is typical for this time of year!’
A hotel and health club, with luxury accommodation, as well as a gym and indoor swimming pool, the pièce de résistance an eighteen-hole golf course—of which, according to March’s information on the preliminary proposal, their farm stood smack in the middle!
Max shook his head. ‘This is all just speculation on your part, January—’
‘Actually, it isn’t,’ she told him with satisfaction; March’s information came ‘from the horse’s mouth’, so to speak. Not that she intended telling Max that—he and, from the little she already knew of him, Jude Marshall were not men to let the situation rest there if they were to find out someone was leaking information concerning the plans for Hanworth Manor. ‘You’re going to meet quite a lot of local opposition to the idea, you know,’ she added challengingly.
Although she wasn’t too sure that would actually be the case…
Unemployment here was quite high, and the health and country club promised employment for quite a lot of people in the area. Although that was something else she didn’t intend telling Max!
‘Headed by the Calendar sisters, no doubt,’ Max drawled wryly.
‘No doubt,’ she echoed tauntingly. ‘Somehow I don’t think our cows and sheep will welcome the idea of having golf balls whistling past their ears as they try to graze!’
Max’s gaze narrowed warningly. ‘Perhaps we should talk about this some other time—’
‘Yes, we could always talk about the strangeness of your telephone call last night, instead!’ she cut in, once again challenging.
His expression became grim as he stood up to walk over to her. ‘I would really rather you didn’t inform the whole world of our private conversations,’ he muttered harshly, glancing around them pointedly.
There were three other people in the bar beside themselves, John behind the bar, and a couple sitting in the corner of the room, obviously having eyes—and ears!—for no one but each other as they talked softly together in between kisses. Hardly the ‘whole world’!
January gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Well?’ she prompted softly, dark brows raised enquiringly. ‘Of what possible interest can it be to you when I started working here?’
‘I was curious, that’s all.’ He shrugged.
January’s frown turned to one of perplexity. ‘You were curious?’
‘Yes,’ he dismissed abruptly. ‘Shouldn’t you have started singing by now?’ he prompted. ‘John tells me that Peter Meridew is in a foul mood this week.’
She had seen that for herself when she’d walked through Reception earlier and the manager had looked pointedly at his watch because she’d been five minutes late in arriving!
She shot Max a dismissive glance. ‘Perhaps you should spend a little less time talking to the hotel staff and get on with the business you’re paid for!’
His mouth quirked into a smile. ‘The Calendar sisters are my business at the moment, and as you’re one of them…’
In other words, he wasn’t going anywhere, had every intention of staying here for the whole evening.
Great!
But as the bar steadily filled up, most people seeming to welcome getting out for the evening after the recent snow, January was able to ignore Max for the main part. After all, she consoled herself, he couldn’t hang around in Yorkshire for ever.
Just long enough to disturb and annoy her!
‘I’ll walk you out to your car,’ he offered as she packed her things away at the end of the evening, the bar having slowly emptied.
Not after what happened last time!
‘There’s no need,’ she refused lightly. ‘John has already offered to go with me,’ she added triumphantly.
‘Unless you would rather go with Mr Golding,’ John put in awkwardly, having shut the bar up. ‘I just thought, after what happened on Monday evening…’ He gave a shrug.
‘That’s fine,’ Max told the other man warmly. ‘You see, January, I’m not the only one who thinks you should take more care!’
If he was annoyed at being usurped in this way, then he certainly wasn’t showing it, January thought disgruntedly. And then realized how ridiculous she was being. She had deliberately accepted John’s offer earlier for the very reason she didn’t want to be put in a position of having to accept one from Max—and now she was angry with him for not trying harder!
‘I’m sure I would be perfectly all right on my own,’ she told Max waspishly.
Max shrugged. ‘Better safe than sorry.’
She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘It’s too late at night for clichés!’
He chuckled softly before turning to the barman. ‘Make sure you actually see her getting into her car and driving away, John; she has a habit of taking diversions!’
She gasped. ‘You—’
‘Goodnight, January.’ Max bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘I’ll leave her in your capable hands, then, John,’ he told the other man with obvious amusement.
She shot him a furious glare before striding from the bar, John endeavouring to keep up with her. Something he seemed to be having trouble doing as he favoured his left foot slightly.
‘I twisted my ankle playing football at the weekend,’ he explained with a grimace as January slowed down so that he could catch her up. ‘It made me realize I’m getting too old for that lark!’ he added disgustedly.
January had no idea how old the barman actually was; with his receding hairline, but boyish looks, he could be anywhere between twenty-five and forty.
‘As long as you enjoy it.’ She smiled, still completely aware of Max as he walked over to get in one of the lifts. ‘I—’
‘January…?’
She turned to find Peter Meridew walking purposefully towards her. Just what she needed at the end of an already stressful evening!
‘If I could just talk to Miss Calendar alone…?’ The manager’s words and look gave John a pointed dismissal.
John gave her a rueful grimace. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then, January. Mr Meridew.’ He nodded abruptly, leaving with obvious reluctance.
What had she done now? January wondered frustratedly. Okay, so she had been five minutes late arriving, but as the bar had been particularly busy this evening she had also carried on singing fifteen minutes over her usual time…
‘Perhaps you would like to come through to my office?’ Peter Meridew said firmly.
And perhaps she wouldn’t! It was almost one-thirty in the morning, for goodness’ sake—and she had a home to go to, even if this man preferred to stay out of his as much as possible; it was common knowledge amongst the hotel staff that Peter Meridew often stayed on working long after his shift should have ended because of the formidable wife waiting for him at home! Normally she felt quite sorry for his obviously unhappy home life, but at one-thirty in the morning she had to admit her sympathy was running a little thin!
‘Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow evening?’ she suggested lightly.
His expression tightened. ‘I received a visit from the police today in connection with the attacks being carried out in the area,’ he bit out tersely, obviously not at all pleased at having police calling at his hotel, for any reason.
January frowned her confusion. ‘What does that have to do with me?’
‘On a personal level, nothing,’ he accepted. ‘However, they are suggesting we change our policy as regards ensuring the safety of certain employees.’
Somehow January didn’t like the sound of this…! Besides the fact that it sounded extremely familiar…?
‘Yes?’ she prompted warily.
Peter Meridew gave a terse inclination of his head. ‘I am afraid that, until such time as the attacker is found and incarcerated, we will have to dispense with your services.’
‘What?’ January gasped, not seeing the connection at all.
The manager’s mouth thinned. ‘Yes. Of course you may finish off the week,’ he added hurriedly.
‘That’s very big of you,’ January muttered, too tired—and angry!—to feel like being overly polite; besides, the man was effectively putting her out of a job at the end of the week!
‘I’m really no happier about this than you are.’ Peter Meridew sighed. ‘We have been more than pleased with your work. But apparently one of the guests has complained that three evenings a week you regularly leave the hotel, alone, at a very late hour—’
‘One of the guests…?’ January cut in forcefully, turning to look at the lifts; as she had suspected Max had already gone up to his suite. But it didn’t take her two guesses to know who ‘the guest’ was who had lodged the complaint.
Or to guess why he had done such a thing! He really was Jude Marshall’s man, wasn’t he, out to ruin the Calendar sisters if he couldn’t get them out of the farm any other way? First put her out of a job, and then he would no doubt start on March. Well, that was what he thought!
She gave Peter Meridew a warm smile. ‘I’m sure the police don’t actually have the authority to instruct you to sack me?’
‘I’m not sacking you, January.’ The manager looked slightly flustered at the suggestion. ‘But, after giving the situation due consideration, I am of the opinion it is the best way to deal with the problem. For the moment,’ he added hastily. ‘We don’t, of course, want to lose your services indefinitely.’
No, she would just bet they didn’t; she never demurred about staying longer than she was supposed to do, or coming in for special occasions if necessary, and the wages really weren’t that good. Just necessary in order for them to be able to keep the farm. Which brought her right back to Max Golding…!
She forced herself to remain calm. ‘Did they tell you which of the guests made the complaint?’ she prompted interestedly.
‘I did enquire, but… They were disinclined to tell me,’ Peter Meridew snapped abruptly, obviously most displeased with this police reticence. ‘However, I do accept that it is in the interest of your safety, and as such—’
“‘You have to dispense with my services”,’ January finished for him tautly. ‘And I have no say in the matter whatsoever?’ she prompted disgustedly.
His expression softened. ‘January—’
‘It’s okay, Peter,’ she cut in impatiently, shaking her head. ‘I fully accept the position you have been put in.’ And who had put him—and her!—there! ‘If you don’t mind, I would like to leave now…?’
‘Not at all,’ he accepted, obviously relieved she hadn’t made more of a scene about the situation. ‘Perhaps I could escort you out to your car?’ he offered.
January gave a decisive shake of her head. ‘I just have to do something first—but thanks.’
If Max thought he was going to get away with this without protest from her, then he was in for a surprise—because she had every intention of going up to his suite right now and telling him exactly what she thought of him, and his machinations.
Concern for her safety, indeed!
In other circumstances, Max might have felt pleased to find January standing outside his hotel suite at one-thirty in the morning knocking to come in—but one glance at her obviously furious expression, grey eyes blazing, two angry spots of colour on her cheeks in an otherwise white face, was enough to tell him this was not a social call!
‘Would you like to come—? Ah, you would,’ he murmured derisively as she pushed past him into the suite, closing the door softly behind her before following her back into the room, glad now that he had stopped to check his e-mails rather than going straight to bed; something was obviously seriously wrong. Which meant something must have happened since they’d parted fifteen minutes ago; January hadn’t been too enamoured of him then, but she was furiously angry now!
‘Drink?’ he offered hopefully.
‘No,’ she refused tautly. ‘But you go ahead—with any luck it might choke you!’
‘Hmm, in that case, I think I’ll pass, too,’ he drawled warily.
What could have happened in the fifteen minutes since they’d parted? The last he had seen of January she had been on her way out the door, John at her side.
‘Pity!’ January snapped, giving him a scathing glance. ‘I’ve just been having a cosy chat with Peter Meridew—’
‘What?’ Max’s wariness turned to shock.
January hadn’t left with John, after all?
Damn it, he should have waited until she was safely out to her car, Max remonstrated with himself, should have—
‘You heard,’ January bit out accusingly. ‘You’ll be pleased to know, he just sacked me!’
‘He what?’ To say it was the last thing Max had been expecting to hear would be an understatement!
‘Max, as I really don’t think there is anything wrong with your hearing,’ January began scathingly, ‘I have no intention of repeating everything I say! I’m allowed to stay on until the end of the week, but after that my services have been dispensed with. For the moment,’ she added harshly. ‘And we both know why, don’t we?’ She glared at him.
Max looked across at her frowningly, totally nonplussed. Peter Meridew had just told January that he didn’t want her coming to the hotel after the weekend? In the circumstances, that didn’t make any sense to Max whatsoever.
‘Do we?’ he delayed warily, his thoughts racing.
The anger deepened in those beautiful grey eyes—although Max wisely decided that now wasn’t the time to tell January how beautiful she looked when she was angry!
He remembered Jude telling him he had once said that to one of the women in his life—and the next morning he had sported a bruise on his jaw to prove it!
‘You won’t succeed in getting us out of the farm like this, Max,’ January told him scornfully. ‘I’ll just get myself another job—and then you’ll be back where you started!’
She thought he had deliberately—!
His mouth tightened as his own anger started to rise. ‘Now, listen here—’
‘No—you listen,’ she cut in forcefully. ‘You may have managed to lose me my job, but all that’s done is make me all the more determined that you won’t succeed.’
‘January—’
‘Can you deny it was you who made the complaint to the police about my leaving here alone late at night?’ she challenged, that small pointed chin raised defiantly. ‘A complaint, because of these random attacks late at night, they took straight to Peter Meridew.’
Max winced at the accusation. He hadn’t exactly complained to the police, more suggested, in the course of his conversation with them, that it probably wasn’t a good idea for a woman to be travelling alone at that time of night. How could he possibly have known that idiot of a manager would turn round and sack January on the basis of that?
Added to which, if his suspicions were correct, the manager’s subsequent actions made absolutely no sense to him…!
If they were correct…
And it certainly looked as if they might not be in the light of Peter Meridew’s decision concerning January continuing to work here.
Unless it was some sort of attempt at misdirection on the other man’s part? Although, for the life of him, Max couldn’t think what that could possibly be!
He drew in a sharp breath. ‘Look, I admit that during my conversation with the police, concerning that altercation with Josh at the weekend, I may have mentioned your late-night drives—’
‘Oh, you “admit” to that, do you?’ she flared scathingly. ‘Well, I—’
‘January, for goodness’ sake, listen to me—’
‘No!’ she snapped forcefully, eyes blazing, her whole body tense with anger. ‘You listen to me!’ she snapped even more vehemently. ‘Stay out of my life, Max. Stay out of my sisters’ lives. In fact, just stay completely away from all of us!’ She was breathing hard in her agitation.
She had never looked lovelier to Max!
‘January…!’ he groaned, his hands moving up instinctively.
‘Do not touch me!’ She stepped back as if burnt.
Or as if his merest touch might contaminate her in some way!
It was altogether too much for Max, all his own earlier decisions to keep an emotional distance between himself and January evaporating like so much mist. He couldn’t bear to have her look at him like that. He just couldn’t!
He tried to take her in his arms, only to have his chest pummelled with clenched fists as she fought against him.
‘Let-me-go-Max,’ she told him through gritted teeth, pushing against his chest now in an effort to dislodge the steel of his arms.
‘I can’t,’ he told her gruffly.
‘Let me go, Max, or I’ll—I’ll—’
‘You’ll what?’ He frowned.
She became suddenly still in his arms, her eyes filled with tears now as she looked up at him. ‘I don’t want this, Max,’ she told him huskily. ‘Don’t you understand?’ she choked, shaking her head.
Only too well! She couldn’t wait to be out of his arms, to get away from him!
Max felt pain unlike any he had ever known before, knew that at that moment he would do or say anything to erase that look of loathing—for him!—from her face.
He drew in a harsh breath. ‘It’s you that doesn’t understand,’ he rasped. ‘I did those things, told the police about your lone drives home late at night, for one reason and one reason only—’
‘And we both know what that is, don’t we?’ she flashed with some of her earlier spirit.
‘I did it because I care, January!’ he bit out tautly, his hands moving to grasp her upper arms as he shook her slightly. ‘Because I care!’ he repeated harshly.
She shook her head disbelievingly. ‘There’s only one thing you care about, Max—and that’s yourself!’ she returned scornfully.
Maybe that had been true once. Maybe it still was, in some ways. But not in the way she meant.
He shook her again. ‘You stubborn, pigheaded—’
‘Yes, I’m stubborn and pigheaded,’ she confirmed self-derisively. ‘But I would much rather be that way than cold and heartless—like you!’
Max became suddenly still, his hands falling back to his sides as he stepped away from her, his gaze guarded now as he held his inner emotions firmly in check. ‘Is that really what you think of me?’ he finally murmured evenly.
January’s mouth twisted humourlessly. ‘What else?’ she sneered. ‘But isn’t that what you wanted?’ she challenged scornfully. ‘Of course it is! After all, you’re Max Golding, legal henchman of Jude Marshall—and neither of you makes any secret of the fact that you take no prisoners!’
Was that what he had become? Not as far as he was aware. It certainly wasn’t what he had set out to be fifteen years ago…
But was that really what he had become? Somehow that wasn’t a palatable thought.
‘I’ve said all I came here to say,’ January told him dismissively as he made no further comment, picking up her bag from where she had thrown it down on the table earlier. ‘But I meant it about staying away from me and my family in the future,’ she added warningly.
Max could see that she did, could see the cold anger in her eyes, the scorn for him that she made no effort to hide.
The pain deepened inside him, so much so that it held him immobile as he watched January walk away from him, the door closing softly behind her as she left.
Max knew she hadn’t just walked out of the hotel suite, but out of his life.
For ever.
Never before, not once in all of his thirty-seven years, had he told anyone that he cared about them. And he cared more about January than he ever had anyone before.
More than cared, if he was honest. With himself, at least.
And, after the things she had just said, he knew she felt nothing but loathing for him in return…!