‘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,’ May encouraged impatiently.
‘What—? Oh, yes.’ March nodded. ‘It was Josh,’ she announced slightly incredulously.
‘What was?’ January prompted dazedly, still confused from having Max touch her in that way. Would she ever understand him?
‘Josh…?’ Max repeated slowly. ‘The same Josh who is marrying your cousin—Sara, isn’t it?—on Saturday?’ He looked accusingly at January, the sharpness of that gaze reminding her that it was the same Josh who had kissed her on Saturday evening!
‘That’s the one,’ March confirmed. ‘Although I’m not sure if the wedding will still be going ahead, in the circumstances?’ She looked across at May.
‘I’ll telephone Aunt Lyn in a moment.’ May nodded. ‘How awful for them all.’ She shook her head distractedly.
‘Hang on a minute,’ January protested, having been listening to this conversation with increasing incredulity.
She had known Josh most of her life, had, as she’d told Max on Saturday, been at school with him, and while there was no doubting Josh could be a little boisterous at times, liked to have fun, he also didn’t have a vicious bone in his body.
‘They have to have the wrong man.’ She shook her head dismissively. ‘Josh isn’t capable of attacking anyone, let alone seven women.’
‘Oh, no, you misunderstood me,’ March apologized with a grimace. ‘Josh was the one who was attacked,’ she explained disgustedly. ‘Beaten up pretty badly, from what I gather.’
What the hell—?
Now Max was as confused as January looked. Although, he had to admit, a few seconds ago he had been angry with her at her defence of the other man…!
‘But he’s a man!’ January burst out incredulously.
As well she might. As far as Max had been able to gather—although, having been out of the country for several months, he was obviously a latecomer to these random attacks—all the other victims had been women.
‘Are they sure it was the Night Striker?’ He frowned his own puzzlement.
‘Positive,’ March confirmed, seeming to have forgotten her antagonism towards him—for the moment. ‘Same M. O., or whatever they call it.’ She grimaced.
‘Modus operandi,’ Max murmured frowningly. ‘Latin,’ he explained as he glanced up to find all three sisters looking at him.
March nodded, her gaze mocking. ‘Being a lawyer, you would know that.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I wouldn’t be a very good one if I didn’t.’
‘And we’re all sure that you’re very good,’ March taunted.
‘Thank you,’ he accepted dryly, easily guessing it wasn’t meant as a compliment; March was more sharp-tongued than he was himself. ‘I accept that the method may be the same,’ he acknowledged slowly. ‘But the fact that the victim was a man this time makes it totally different.’
In fact, it didn’t make much sense to him. Okay, so the last six victims, all women, had been badly beaten rather than raped, but that still didn’t explain why it had been a man who was attacked this time… The good-natured Josh, of all people. No wonder the police were being a little cagey about the information they gave out!
‘Sara must be so upset,’ January said worriedly.
As Max might have known she would; of the three sisters, January was definitely the most empathetic.
‘If none of you mind waiting for dinner, I’ll telephone Aunt Lyn now and see how Josh is. And Sara, of course,’ May murmured distractedly before leaving the room.
‘And I’ll open the wine,’ Max suggested briskly, seeing that a certain amount of shock was starting to set in with all the sisters now; hearing of the attacks the last six months couldn’t have been very pleasant, having it arrive on their own doorstep, so to speak, must be even more shocking. ‘Could you get me a corkscrew, January?’ he said briskly as neither sister moved.
‘Oh. Of course.’ She moved frowningly to one of the drawers, taking out the corkscrew to hand it to him distractedly.
‘And some glasses, March?’ he prompted lightly as he deftly removed the cork.
March blinked, her smile derisive as she seemed to guess what he was doing. ‘Certainly, sir,’ she drawled, reaching up to take four wineglasses from one of the cabinets.
‘Thank you,’ Max accepted dryly, starting to pour the wine.
‘You’re welcome,’ March derided. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured appreciatively after her first sip of the wine. ‘Just what we need to cheer us all up.’
‘Maybe I should have brought two bottles,’ Max teased.
‘Maybe you should.’ March nodded, grey-green eyes dancing with humour.
‘January?’ Max prompted as she made no effort to pick up one of the glasses.
In fact, she seemed totally distracted, he acknowledged with a searching frown, her face unnaturally pale, her eyes so deep a grey they looked almost black.
It was awful that their cousin’s future husband had been the Night Striker’s latest victim, but unless Max