Page 4 of Cinderella's Christmas Secret 1
Someone had turned off the flashing Christmas tree lights and the hotel seemed deserted as she left by the staff entrance at the back. But as Hollie stepped out into the dark night, she was unprepared for the rain—or rather, the sudden deluge which was tipping from the sky. With no umbrella and a coat which wasn’t particularly waterproof, she was quickly soaked through and her windswept progress to the nearby bus stop didn’t provide much in the way of shelter. She looked upwards. Why hadn’t the council bothered to repair that gaping hole in the roof?
In vain she scanned the horizon for the welcoming light of the bus and was just contemplating digging out her phone to call a taxi—and to hell with the expense—or even braving the elements and walking home, when a large dark car purred soundlessly down the street and came to a gliding halt beside her.
It wasn’t a car she recognised. It was sleek and gleaming and obviously very expensive. A car which looked totally out of place in this tiny Devon town, especially as it was being driven by a chauffeur who wore a peaked cap. But Hollie’s heart missed a beat as she identified the powerful figure sitting in the back seat.
The electric window slid down and the shiver which rippled down her spine had less to do with the water slowly soaking through her jacket and more to do with the ebony gaze of Maximo Diaz, which was spearing through her like a dark sword. With a crashing heart she registered his thick black hair and the curve of his sensual mouth, which now twisted in what looked like resignation.
‘Get in’ was all he said.
CHAPTER TWO
‘WHERETO?’MAXIMOdemanded as the woman slid her damp and shivering body onto the seat beside him and his chauffeur shut the door on the howling night.
‘I was on my way h-home.’
‘I’d kind of worked that out for myself,’ he said, steeling himself against the strangely seductive stumble of her words. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Right on the edge of town, towards the moors.’ She turned her face towards his in the dim light of the limousine and he could hear the faint deference in her voice. ‘It’s very kind of you to give me a lift, Señor Diaz.’
‘I’m not known for my kindness,’ he told her, with impatient candour. ‘But you’d have to be pretty hard-hearted to drive past a woman standing alone at a rainy bus stop on a night like this.’ He stared at the raindrops which glittered on her pale cheeks and lowered his voice. ‘The question is whether you want me to drive you home, or did your mother warn you never to accept lifts from strangers?’
‘You’re not exactly a stranger, are you?’ she answered primly. ‘And since you’re offering, then I’ll accept. Thank you. It’s a rotten night and it really is very...nice of you.’
Niceas well as kind? Maximo almost laughed as he leaned forward to tap the glass and the big car moved forward. When was the last time he’d been described in such glowing terms? The nurses who had cared for his mother in her final days would certainly never have subscribed to such a favourable opinion, but their views on the world had been as black and white as the habits they wore. Nice sons did not neglect their dying mother, nor remain dry-eyed as she shuddered out her last breath.
‘Anyway, you can call me Maximo. And put on your seat belt,’ he ordered, dragging his thoughts back from the painful past to the woman still shivering beside him.
‘I’m trying.’
Waving away her fumbling fingers, he leaned over to slot in her seat belt and as he again caught a drift of scent which was more soap than perfume, he wondered if his behaviour reallywasmotivated by a stab of chivalry and nothing more. Because wasn’t the truth that tonight he had wanted her—and not in some hypothetical role as his ideal secretarial assistant? Hell, no. Tonight, all the softness and sweetness he’d previously associated with her had collided with a totally unexpected raunchy version, which had planted desire stubbornly in his mind. And he hadn’t seemed able to shift it...
Either way, he hadn’t intended to take it any further, for what would be the point? She was a small-town woman and he was just...passing through. He didn’t do one-night stands. He never had, for all kinds of reasons. They were too messy and had the potential to be complicated, and complicated was something he avoided at all cost. So he had left the hotel and the humdrum party and convinced himself he would quickly forget her—at least until next time he ran into her, if indeed he did. Only by then, she would be back to normal. He wouldn’t be dazzled by that very obvious visual stimulant of a short, figure-hugging dress, because she would be back in her drab clothes—barely meriting a second glance as he signed off on his castle purchase. And that would be an end to it.Adios.He wasn’t intending to stay in this claustrophobic town for a second longer than he needed to. He would sign on the dotted line, put his deal into rapid motion—and nobody would see him for dust.
And then fate had conspired to put her directly in his path—quite literally. No longer a red-and-white-stockinged elf, but a wet and bedraggled woman standing by the roadside. Shivering.
‘You’re cold,’ he observed.
‘A bit.’
Commanding his driver in Spanish to increase the heat, he turned to her.
‘How’s that? Any better?’
‘Much better.’ She wriggled around in the seat a little. ‘It’s weird but even the seat feels warm.’
‘That’s because it’s heated.’
‘Your car seat has aheater?’
‘It’s hardly at the cutting edge of invention,’ he said drily. ‘Most new cars do.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘I’ve never owned a car.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘No.’ She shook her head and a few raindrops sprayed over in his direction. ‘There’s never really been any reason to have one. I used to live in London, where it’s impossible to park, and I don’t need one here. We need to turn left, please. Just there, past the lamp post.’
