God, she was beautiful, he inwardly acknowledged achingly.
Yes, she was.
But now that he knew who she was, the closeness of her family, he also knew that whatever she might have said about love the night they’d first met, she was actually the sort of woman who wouldn’t settle for anything less than marriage—and, no matter how attracted he was to her, the very thought of being married, to anyone, gave him an icy lump of panic in the pit of his stomach.
His mouth thinned grimly. ‘I spoke to Jude Marshall earlier,’ he bit out forcefully. ‘He’s willing to increase his offer.’
January recoiled as if he had actually struck her, and it took every ounce of Max’s will-power not to take her in his arms, to tell her that everything would be okay, that while he was around no one would ever take the farm away from her, or anything else, if she didn’t want them to.
But who was he kidding? He had known Jude most of his life, might be a trusted friend as well as employee, but he also knew the other man well enough to know that what Jude wante
d, he got, usually by fair means, but if those means ultimately failed…! Jude had left him in absolutely no doubt earlier that he wanted the Calendar farm, and that he intended getting it.
Max’s own inner feelings of a conflict of interest simply wouldn’t come into the other man’s equation!
Max thrust his hands into the pockets of his denims, his fists tightly clenched. ‘My advice to you all is to seriously consider this second offer,’ he told January harshly.
Her eyes widened indignantly as she snapped, ‘I wasn’t aware I had asked for your advice!’
He shrugged with seeming unconcern, hating himself for talking to her in this way, but at the same time knowing that he couldn’t back down now from the stance he had taken. Couldn’t? More like daredn’t, he acknowledged self-disgustedly. Conflict of interest, be damned; he had made his choice in Jude’s favour the moment he’d realized just how deeply involved he already was with January. Having her hate him for that choice was the price he had to pay.
‘I’m offering it anyway,’ he drawled dismissively. ‘Jude isn’t a man to take no for an answer.’
Her eyes flashed deeply grey. ‘Then the two of you must have a lot in common.’
She meant to be insulting, and she succeeded. Although there was no denying, Max accepted hardly, that she unwittingly told the truth. The two men were similar in lots of ways, both successful at what they did, both still bachelors at thirty-seven, and both intending to stay that way.
If not for the same reasons.
Jude made no secret of the fact that although women fascinated him, they as quickly bored him in a one-to-one relationship, claimed that if he ever met the woman who didn’t bore him after a few days’ acquaintance he would marry her. Whereas Max had no intention of marrying ever, for any reason, least of all love.
He had looked at January on New Year’s Eve, and known he wanted her. But it was nothing more than that, he told himself determinedly. He wouldn’t allow it to be.
Women, he had learnt at a very young age, were fickle creatures at best, took a man’s love and used it as a weapon against him.
His expression was bleak now. ‘Resorting to insults isn’t going to help resolve this situation,’ he rasped.
‘Maybe not,’ she accepted heavily. ‘But it certainly makes me feel better!’
He gave a rueful shrug. ‘Then feel free.’
She gave him a searching look. ‘Max, can I ask you a question?’
He stiffened warily, not liking the look in her eyes now. ‘Go ahead,’ he invited tensely.
‘How do you sleep at night?’ she scorned.
The last two nights—very badly. Usually—very well. But he knew that wasn’t what she was really asking!
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘January, whatever you may or may not think of me personally, Jude’s offer is a fair one—’
‘I’m not interested in anything to do with Jude Marshall!’ she burst out scathingly. ‘Until recently, I had never even heard of the man—and I wish I still hadn’t!’ she added disgustedly. ‘I’m more interested in knowing how you can bear to be used as his—as his—’
‘Careful, January,’ Max warned softly. ‘In view of your obvious anger, there are some insults I’m willing to accept—others I am not,’ he added hardly. ‘I’m a lawyer. I have never been guilty of committing any sort of unlawful act.’
‘Not unlawful, maybe,’ she allowed heatedly. ‘But there is such a thing as a moral wrong.’
‘Granted,’ he acknowledged icily. ‘But as far as the Calendar family is concerned, I can’t see where I have been guilty of that either!’