The Deserving Mistress. Carole Mortimer

a good look at his leather jacket and designer-labelled jeans. More to the point, he had obviously already known she was one of the Calendar sisters when he arrived here.

      Those alarm bells began to jingle so loudly they threatened to deafen her!

      She knew who this man was—

      ‘Jude Marshall,’ he introduced confidently even as he stood up and held out his hand, knowing by the shocked look on her face seconds ago that the introduction was unnecessary.

      Under other circumstances, that look of horror on her face at exactly who he was might possibly have been amusing. Possibly… Although he doubted it. It wasn’t the usual reaction to his identity that he experienced from beautiful women. And May Calendar, despite her tired state, was an exceptionally beautiful woman.

      She still stared at him, making no effort to shake the hand he held out to her. ‘But—but—you’re English!’ she burst out accusingly.

      Jude’s hand dropped back to his side as he once again sat down on one of the chairs. ‘Ah, now that is a debatable point,’ he drawled, amused now by her stunned expression.

      ‘Either you are or you aren’t,’ May Calendar snapped dismissively, at the same time obviously making great efforts to regain her equilibrium after the shock of realising he was the man who had been trying to buy this farm for the last two months.

      He shrugged. ‘My mother is American, but my father is English,’ he explained dryly. ‘I was born in America, but educated in England. I visit America a lot, socially as well as on business, but my base is in London. So what do you think?’ He quirked dark brows.

      She gave him a resentful glare. ‘I doubt you would want to hear what I think!’

      ‘Probably not,’ he drawled ruefully.

      She was taking her coat off now, revealing that the bulky garment had hidden a curvaceous slenderness, her green jumper the exact colour of her eyes, denims fitting snugly over narrow thighs and long legs.

      ‘Tell me,’ Jude murmured softly. ‘Do your sisters look anything like you?’

      ‘Exac— Why do you want to know?’ she amended her initial confirmation to a guarded wariness.

      He shrugged. ‘Just curious.’

      ‘No, you weren’t,’ May Calendar said confidently. ‘Those bodies you mentioned a few minutes ago, you wouldn’t happen to be referring to Max Golding, your lawyer, and Will Davenport, your architect, would you?’

      Bright as well as beautiful, Jude mentally conceded. The Calendar sisters—the one he had met so far, at least—were absolutely nothing like the three little old ladies he had assumed them to be several weeks ago when he’d first initiated the buying of their—this!—farm.

      ‘What do you think?’ he prompted unhelpfully.

      ‘You’re fond of answering a question with a question, aren’t you?’ May murmured consideringly as she moved to refill her coffee mug.

      It was a defence mechanism he had perfected over the years, meant that he usually obtained more information than he gave—and it wasn’t something that most people easily recognised!

      He frowned darkly. ‘Obviously you share the same trait,’ he bit out tersely.

      She shrugged narrow shoulders. ‘We could carry on like this all morning—except I don’t have all morning to waste exchanging verbal arrows with you,’ she added hardly.

      ‘Because you and the vet spent a sleepless night together,’ he came back with deliberate provocation.

      Angry colour darkened her normally magnolia cheeks. ‘I have already explained about that once, I don’t intend doing so again!’ she snapped dismissively. ‘What is it you want, Mr Marshall?’ she prompted challengingly.

      Having now met the elder of the three Calendar sisters, found her to be absolutely nothing like he had presumed her to be, he wasn’t absolutely sure. And that wasn’t a feeling he was particularly comfortable with.

      ‘Well, you might start off by telling me where Will and Max are?’ he prompted cautiously.

      ‘Assuming their bodies aren’t hidden under the kitchen flagstones, after all?’ she came back scathingly.

      ‘Assuming that, yes,’ he conceded with a humourless smile.

      May Calendar gave a derisive shake of her head. ‘They aren’t.’

      ‘Well?’ he pushed impatiently a few seconds later when she added nothing to that remark.

      She gave him a considering look, green eyes narrowed, her thoughts unreadable even to his experienced eye. ‘Will is in London. Max is in the Caribbean,’ she finally told him economically.

      Jude drew in an impatient breath. ‘And your two sisters are where?’

      ‘March is in London. January is in the Caribbean,’ she informed him with a challenging lift of her chin.

      ‘How coincidental,’ he drawled dryly.

      In fact, he had already known exactly where Max and Will were, and who they were with; he had just wanted to see if May Calendar was willing to tell him as much. She obviously was!

      ‘Not really—March and January naturally wanted to be with their fiancés,’ she told him with satisfaction.

      So Jude had gathered when he had received first a telephone call from Max over a week ago telling him of his engagement to January Calendar, and then a second telephone call from Will a couple of days ago telling him of his engagement to March Calendar!

      To say he was surprised by the fact that his two friends were engaged to marry anyone, let alone two of the Calendar sisters, was an understatement.

      The three men had been to school together, had worked together for years; despite relationships with numerous women over those years, Jude had always assumed that none of them would ever make the commitment to falling in love, let alone getting married. Obviously he had been wrong.

      And that was something else he didn’t admit to too freely!

      He stood up abruptly. ‘You asked me what I wanted a few minutes ago,’ he rasped. ‘I want exactly what Max was sent here to do before he fell in love with your sister, and that was to buy this farm!’

      Her head tilted defensively. ‘And I’m sure he’s told you that it isn’t for sale!’

      Jude’s eyes narrowed icily. ‘Yes, he’s told me.’

      ‘And?’

      The challenge was evident in her voice, as was the underlying tone of resentment. Both of which were going to get him precisely nowhere, Jude realised.

      He forced himself to relax slightly, his smile lightly cajoling. ‘May, surely you’ve realised, after the last few days of managing on your own here, that you just can’t do it?’

      She stiffened angrily, green eyes flashing with the emotion. ‘What I can or cannot do is none of your business, Mr Marshall. And I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name, either,’ she added churlishly.

      He bit back the angry retort that sprang so readily to his lips, at the same time marvelling at the fact that this woman had managed to incite him to such an emotion. Usually he kept his emotions tightly under control, having found that this gave him an advantage over— Over what? His opponent, he had been going to say…

      Was May Calendar really that?

      Looking at her, tired from hard work and a sleepless night, her face ethereally lovely, much too slender than was healthy for her, it was difficult to think of her in that light. In fact, he was starting to feel guilty for having added to her obvious problems of the day.

      Which was a highly dangerous direction for him to have taken!

      ‘Look,