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New Year At The Boss's Bidding
Rachael Thomas
Moretti’s by midnight!Jilted bride Tilly Rogers hopes her luck is changing when she’s offered a prestigious catering contract for billionaire businessman Xavier Moretti’s New Year’s Eve party…until she ends up snowbound and alone at her boss’s bidding!It’s the end of the year and the end of Tilly’s contract – which leaves Xavier free to seduce her at his will! Hardly shy of a challenge, this notorious playboy makes it his resolution to have virgin Tilly crumbling under his experienced touch.Before the snow settles Xavier is determined to have Tilly under a brand-new set of tantalising terms!
They were snowed in. He and Tilly were alone.
Xavier’s body still hummed after the exchange between them that morning. A carnal need so strong had filled him as he’d looked into her vivid blue eyes. He’d had to resist the urge to crush her to his body, to feel her against him and to kiss those seductively plump lips. Never before had he felt so untamed, so in danger of losing his renowned self-control.
Now, because of the weather, he was going to be forced to spend at least the next twenty-four hours with a woman he desired more than any other—one who’d made it known that she was unattainable, here to fulfil a contract and nothing more … a contract which expired at midnight.
He knew she wouldn’t be comfortable about being alone with him this evening. Not after that moment in the dining room. She was not his usual type of woman, more the ‘for ever’ sort, and that held him back. For ever was something he couldn’t do— which was another reason for not exploring what was between him and Tilly.
He took a deep breath, bringing all his wayward desires under control, determined to shake off his inconvenient desire and be the perfect gentleman— until midnight at least. He returned to the kitchen to break the news to the only woman in the last three years who had threatened to rouse the man he’d once been … the man he could never risk being again.
‘It appears we will be here alone for New Year.’
RACHAEL THOMAS has always loved reading romance and is thrilled to be a Modern author. She lives and works on a farm in Wales—a far cry from the glamour of a Mills & Boon Modern story—but that makes slipping into her characters’ world all the more appealing. When she’s not writing or working on the farm she enjoys photography and visiting historic castles and grand houses. Visit her at rachaelthomas.co.uk.
New Year at the
Boss’s Bidding
Rachael Thomas
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To editors Laurie Johnson and Charlotte Mursell.
Thank you so much for your fantastic support, guidance and encouragement as I’ve moved from unpublished finalist in SYTYCW 2013 to this, my fifth book.
Contents
Cover (#u776e4047-ecea-515b-a935-37a71a6b504e)
Introduction (#uf8435fce-1ce7-5fbb-89c9-ea4faa9affa4)
About the Author (#ucb6ee769-5b4b-5072-b5ab-18564796f8eb)
Title Page (#uf78ef0ec-a2ae-5d8a-8488-a41c04a32ec6)
Dedication (#u3d919c67-da1e-5f8e-84cb-9e95dc5288bc)
CHAPTER ONE (#uae10b5a3-a300-5b2a-abd3-81db840cbc0c)
CHAPTER TWO (#u71009170-e800-5fea-aabe-9f914bdc3fbe)
CHAPTER THREE (#ud731e1de-228f-5f55-95e8-87bf4e7ff12c)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b6fc9b3c-bb42-56f7-b37d-c9f09a757b70)
TODAY NOTHING COULD dampen Tilly Rogers’s enthusiasm for the exciting contract she had landed. Tonight she would be catering for Xavier Moretti’s New Year’s Eve dinner party, a contract that was a much-needed boost to her new business.
The manor house he’d hired for the occasion, set on the edge of Exmoor, was proving difficult to find, but even that didn’t faze her. She was away from London and thankful that this New Year’s Eve would be very different from last year’s.
Tilly gripped the steering-wheel of her small white van a bit tighter as the light flurry of snow landing on the windscreen increased to a constant bombardment of small fluffy flakes. She must be almost at the manor by now. At the next turn in the road she was relieved to see a large set of wrought-iron gates loom ahead of her, but that relief soon faded.
The gates were firmly closed and she looked down the long drive. No sign of the manor house, but on one of the tall pillars ‘Wimble Manor’ was proudly announced. She was in the right place.
Judging by its grandeur, this must be the main entrance and from her brief conversation with the caretaker she knew that, as hired staff, she needed the back entrance. Slowly she pulled away, aware of the snow beginning to settle on the tarmac road ahead of her. Thank goodness she’d left London earlier than planned.
A little further along she saw a small gatehouse. A set of open gates nestled in the winter-bare hedgerows and she turned in, following a set of tyre tracks that were just still visible on the now white driveway. Someone else had just arrived, but it couldn’t be her staff, Katie and Jane. They weren’t due until later this afternoon, by which time she hoped it would have stopped snowing.
Cautiously she drove along the snow-covered lane, but couldn’t resist a glance around the grounds of the manor, which were turning, very quickly, into a winter wonderland. The narrow road led through a small wood, over an old stone bridge and on the other side, Tilly got the first sight of Wimble Manor.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said as she looked up at the imposing manor house. The snow, now blowing horizontally, gave it a mysterious air, filling her head with romantic notions of the house in its heyday. If only she had time to take a walk, but that was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Tonight’s contract was one she had to get right. As undisputed king of the motorcycle racetrack, who’d turned businessman and mentor for young riders, Xavier Moretti was her most high-profile client to date.
The email asking her to take on his New Year’s Eve dinner party had been a shock, to say the least. Not only was it just what her fledgling business needed, it was also what she needed on a personal level. It would provide her with a welcome distraction from dwelling on what had happened last New Year’s Eve and created the perfect excuse for not attending parties.
Although her best friend, Vanessa, had complicated things when she’d told her she planned to announce her engagement on New Year’s Day so she couldn’t completely escape the party scene. After last year, Vanessa had been anxious but Tilly had reassured her she was over it all now. She knew that whatever happened she would be at the party to prove this to herself as well as her friends. It would be part of reinventing herself, just as starting the business had been.
She dragged her mind away from thoughts of engagements and parties and focused on Xavier Moretti’s request for authentic Italian home cooking, something she really wanted to specialise in after the hours she’d spent in her Italian grandmother’s kitchen as a young girl. She smiled at the memories, determined to make this evening’s meal so special he and his guests would remember her name for a long time.
Thoughts of the menu she was going to present them filled her mind as she followed the narrow driveway around the side of the impressive house and into a courtyard. She noticed the tyre tracks also went this way and assumed it was the caretaker preparing for Xavier Moretti’s arrival. She hoped that wouldn’t be too soon. She had planned on having the morning to herself, giving plenty of time to prepare for the New Year’s Eve dinner.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t register that the tracks belonged to a sleek black sports car, now partly covered in snow. She parked alongside it and got out, totally in awe of her surroundings. She looked around the courtyard, her face upturned as she took in the grand house, not caring about the white flakes as they landed on her skin and settled in her red woolly hat.
She pulled her scarf higher around her neck and resisted the urge to cross the cobbled courtyard and see what was in the other buildings. There would be time enough for that later. She had a van to unload and a kitchen to set up. There was still a lot of work to do ahead of tonight’s dinner party and with a regretful sigh she turned then stopped, as if suddenly frozen by Mother Nature herself.
In the open doorway stood a man, so tall, handsome and self-assured she was certain, from the internet pictures she’d seen, it was Xavier Moretti. He watched her with an expression of confidence and, if she wasn’t mistaken, amusement. A hint of a smile lingered at the edges of his lips.
His dark hair lifted slightly in the wind, the odd white flake settling starkly against the midnight blackness of his hair before dissolving away. His tanned complexion looked totally out of place against the backdrop of England’s winter weather and she could hardly drag her gaze from him. He looked so exotic with a hint of wildness that she found strangely exciting.
Unused to being in the company of such a man, she struggled to regain control as she blushed, her stomach fluttering with what felt like excitement. On a newly discovered level, she knew it was more than that and fought hard to ignore it. She had to remain professional with this man, no matter what. This was the first time he’d hired Tilly’s Table for a dinner party and she needed more contracts like this to help her business grow, not to mention the validation his custom would give.
He had certainly dressed for the part of country gentleman. The dark grey sweater, over a blue shirt looked warm and casual. Alarmingly, she couldn’t quite stop her gaze sliding down his long jeans-clad legs. What was the matter with her? She’d never lusted after a man. Ever. Finally gathering her wayward reactions, she looked at his face, saw his stern dark eyes watchful.
‘Hi, I’m Tilly Rogers and here to cater for Mr Moretti’s dinner party this evening.’ His increased smile did little to help the fluttering feeling but confirmed her suspicions. This was Xavier Moretti.
‘Buongiorno. Xavier Moretti,’ he offered, his heavy accent making the words far sexier than she’d ever heard any man sound, and the Italian greeting nudged at memories. ‘I had not expected the pleasure of your company so early, Ms Rogers. Tell me, do you always find such joy in snow?’
A tingle of pleasure skittered down her spine, setting off alarm bells. What was happening to her?
‘It’s so nice to be out of London.’ She couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from her voice. ‘But I didn’t expect you to be here yet, Signor Moretti.’ She wouldn’t allow him to dampen her spirits—or spoil the plans she’d had of exploring once she’d finished her preparation.
‘Xavier, please.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You should come in and get warm.’
‘I’m fine.’ She shook her head and smiled, trying to ignore the tingle that continued to zip down her spine at the deep sexy tones of his voice. ‘Besides, I have things to bring in so I can start work.’
He crossed the snow-dusted yard to hold the back door of the van open as she leant in to grab the first of several boxes. As he took the boxes from her, his fingers brushed hers. The sizzle that shot up her arm made her eyes widen and, unconsciously, she looked at him. The depths of his dark eyes held hers and for a moment it was as if time had stood still. As if nothing else in the entire world mattered.
Her heartbeat seemed to slow and just the simple task of breathing became difficult. His handsome face didn’t give anything away. He looked composed and controlled but still she couldn’t break whatever it was. All she wanted to do was look at his high chiselled cheekbones, as if doing so would allow her to commit them to memory before locking the image behind a door labelled Danger.
Why had she thought that? She was definitely out of her depth, but a man like him would never look twice at a woman like her. She averted her gaze, using the pretence of checking the contents of one of the boxes to divert his attention.
‘May I help?’ The three words held a hint of huskiness and to her dismay she blushed again, her stomach fluttering as he took the boxes inside. She watched him walk away, thankful she could think and breathe properly again.
She pulled more boxes from the back of the van and followed him into the house. ‘I hope this snow stops,’ she said as she walked into the kitchen, where Xavier was stacking her things on a large table. She needed normal conversation to settle herself. How could he unbalance her so quickly?
‘Sì. But you are here at least. It would have been a shame not to sample your food, especially as it has come so highly recommended.’
Tilly blushed, this time because she didn’t know how to deal with such a direct compliment, or was it guilt at having those wildly improper thoughts about him just moments ago?
To cover her embarrassment, she put her boxes down and turned to survey the massive kitchen. From the stainless-steel pans hanging above the range to the copper moulds mounted on the walls it managed to combine perfectly the charm of past with the needs of the twenty-first century.
‘This place is amazing. I’m really looking forward to working in such a grand kitchen.’ Her enthusiasm for the old house couldn’t be subdued and for a moment he watched her, coolly assessing her and everything she did.
Tilly scanned the high-ceilinged room, wishing she had a kitchen like this to work in for every job she took on. Sleek, modern kitchens, packed full with every gadget, were what she was normally provided with, but this room, with history breathing from its walls, practically filled her criteria for a perfect workplace.
‘Si, è bello,’ he said, as she turned her attention back to Xavier.
Did he have to keep using sexy snippets of Italian? It tugged at bittersweet memories of happy times she’d spent in a small cottage kitchen in Tuscany, where herbs had dried in abundance and the warmth of the sun had seemed to shine constantly.
When she went back to her van, the flurry of snow she’d arrived in had dwindled to almost nothing. Only the odd rogue snowflake whirled to the ground. At least that was one thing less to worry about.
As she leaned into the van she moved aside the dress she’d bought for Vanessa’s engagement party tomorrow. Her heart hadn’t been in that task, but she didn’t want her past to spoil her friend’s happiness. She paused and touched the black dress through the plastic cover, remembering the wedding dress she should have worn exactly a year ago. The conversation she’d had as it had hung on her wardrobe door filtered unwittingly back from the past. The firmness of Jason’s voice still reached her as he’d told her he needed much more than just friendship, urging her to go out and experience life—just as he planned to do.
Pain and humiliation rushed through her. She couldn’t do this now. Looking back wouldn’t help. With a sigh, she pulled the last of her boxes towards her and turned to see Xavier come out of the house, his expression serious as he looked up at the heavy grey sky, before swiftly returning his attention to her.
‘Please, allow me,’ he said, as she tried to close the back of her van as well as balance the boxes.
‘Thank you.’ Shyness crept over her again. She didn’t like the way he managed to fluster her or the sensation as his fingers innocently brushed over hers.
‘Prego.’
There it was again, that undeniably sexy voice speaking in a language she’d known as a child, when her grandmother had shared all her cooking secrets with her, unwittingly sealing Tilly’s future career.
Tilly shut the van doors, leaving her overnight bag and dress inside, determined she would be at her friend’s engagement party tomorrow. Especially when Vanessa had been so supportive last New Year’s Eve—the day her world had fallen apart. She couldn’t deny her friend happiness, even if it opened up the agony of what should have been her wedding day. A year ago today had been the day her engagement had ended—the day her childhood sweetheart had said he no longer wanted to marry her.
Irritated that memories of last year could still hurt, she made her way back to the kitchen. Xavier was standing against the range cooker, looking so relaxed he might as well have been in his own home and not an English country house he’d hired for the occasion. She placed the final box on the kitchen table, aware of his dark gaze watching her every move, feeling it with every sizzle that sparked down her spine.
* * *
Xavier leant against the warmth of the range, which reminded him of his childhood home, and watched as Tilly unfurled her scarf and pulled off her hat. Her thick blonde hair looked ruffled, stirring visions of her in his bed after a passionate night. This unexpected thought raced through his mind all too clearly, sending a stab of lust through him.
The instant attraction he felt for her was inconvenient. He’d hired her company for his New Year’s Eve dinner after she’d been recommended, but not once had he considered that he’d find the owner of Tilly’s Table so attractive.
It must be this house, being in a different environment, one so similar to the warm and loving environment he’d grown up in. It was giving rein to inappropriate thoughts of the owner of Tilly’s Table. She was attractive but completely unaffected by it—a totally refreshing concept for him. Being in this house with such a down-to-earth woman, a woman who’d want a forever kind of love, reminded him his eventual aim had been to settle down and be happy. But that was no longer possible. The accident three years ago had slashed those hopes.
‘Would you like coffee?’ Her sweet voice, which he couldn’t help but notice sometimes held a hint of mischief, dragged his thoughts back to where they should be. As did the reminder that his parents, his cousin and her husband would soon be here.
At least they would keep his mind on the enforced New Year celebrations, although he still found it hard to accept they had coerced him into it. He knew they were upset and worried that he hadn’t celebrated Christmas with them for the last few years, but it was a time of year he now hated.
Tilly pulled off her puffy black coat, revealing her slender figure encased in tight jeans and equally well-fitted black roll neck jumper. They showed every curve to perfection, dragging him from dwelling on the past and back to that unprompted vision of her in his bed.
‘Grazie,’ he replied, as he fought with the maelstrom of emotions that scenario provoked.
What was the matter with him? He wasn’t usually this easily distracted by a woman. His attention had been caught by Tilly Rogers that first second he’d seen her. What man wouldn’t be attracted to such a beautiful woman? But he’d never been this aware of a woman within minutes of meeting. He’d never seen his now-futile hopes of happiness dangled before him so temptingly.
Already he knew she was a breath of fresh air, compared to the usual women who lived in the circles he was now moving in since arriving in London. Beneath Tilly’s smiles and laughter he sensed a vulnerability that echoed his, calling to him and drawing him inexplicably towards her.
She’d clearly set the boundaries—professional boundaries—addressing him by his surname, but he couldn’t help wishing they had met in another way. Or was it his rebellious nature, wanting what was so obviously denied him? Whichever it was, he wanted more, something he found hard to deal with.
Belatedly he realised it wouldn’t make any difference. He would have needed to have met her before the accident. No woman, not even a warm and genuine woman like Tilly Rogers, would want to be involved with him now, not once the truth came out. The scars on his legs were a constant reminder that he didn’t deserve to be happy, that he was the one with ideas above his station, which was exactly why he hadn’t done anything more than have dinner or go to a party with a woman for the last three years.
He sensed her watching him as he walked towards the kitchen windows and looked out into the courtyard. Why did he suddenly want things that were no longer possible? Things Carlotta’s reaction had forced him to deny himself? He’d seen her look of revulsion after the accident, had known she’d blamed him, and had ended it right there and then, guilt making anything else impossible. He didn’t deserve happiness after what he’d done.
‘I forgot some files,’ she said lightly, and reached to pull her keys from the pocket of the coat she’d laid over the back of a kitchen chair. ‘I’ll fetch them now.’
He watched her walk to the back door, her boot heels tapping a gentle rhythm on the tiled floor. The sway of her hips mesmerised him as if he were a teenager who’d just discovered the delights of women. He shook the haze of desire away and went to the back door to assess the weather.
He hoped it would stop snowing soon, aware his family would be convinced he’d purposely hired such a remote venue in the hope it would snow, releasing him from entering into the spirit of the season for yet another year. If he was honest with himself, escaping such gatherings was why he’d remained in England, extending his scholarship programme instead of going back to Milan and concentrating on his motorbike factory.
Tilly turned and smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘It’s a shame the snow has stopped. I was hoping to see the countryside covered in a white blanket.’
He looked up at the heavy grey clouds that held the promise of more snow. ‘You may yet get your wish.’ He would then escape the torture of celebrating New Year’s Eve, of pretending everything was normal, when it never would be again.
