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‘Do you think so? It’s not forecast,’ she said, as she unlocked her van and lifted out a red file, the innocent excitement in her voice made him laugh gently. ‘I haven’t seen real snow for so long, only icing-sugar dustings. There was nothing when I left London.’
‘I grew up in the hills of northern Italy, where snow is a regular feature of winter. I think we will see more snow today, the sky is heavy with it.’ If they had been in his home in Italy, they would most certainly be snowbound, a thought that served only to heighten his awareness of her.
‘That would be fun, but only after your guests have arrived.’ She laughed lightly as she reached into her van again. He gritted his teeth—hard, catching a glimpse of creamy flesh as her jumper rose up. He really must stop thinking of her like this. Just when he’d thought he couldn’t take any more she straightened and arranged the files in her arms, but didn’t seem able to meet his gaze. Did she feel it too? This sizzle of attraction? Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?
‘I have work to do and I’m sure you do too.’ If he didn’t remove himself from her company, he might be tempted to breach the boundaries of professionalism before she’d been here for more than an hour. The urge to take her in his arms and kiss her was completely overwhelming and something he hadn’t thought of with any of his recent dates. ‘I will show you the dining room and lounge first.’
Feeling like an ill-tempered bear who had been woken from his winter sleep, he stalked back into the house, aware Tilly was following. His footsteps sounded fierce on the tiled floor as he made his way to the main hall and staircase. Her gasp of pleasure drew him up sharply as he reached the stairs and he turned to look at her, pressing his lips firmly together in discontent as she looked around the large hallway, which showcased the Christmas tree he’d expressly asked to be removed before his guests arrived. Its decorated branches were yet another reminder of what he no longer deserved.
‘This is so beautiful.’ Clutching her files against her, she walked slowly towards the bottom of the wide staircase, where he stood. She stopped and looked around her at the magnificence of the main entrance of the manor. ‘And this tree, it’s just gorgeous. I always wanted a tree like this when I was young. Something grand and tall, but of course it never happened.’
The laughter in her voice held a hint of sadness and abruptly she stopped talking. Had his reaction to the mention of Christmas been that severe?
‘Yes, the tree.’ He gritted his teeth again, feeling even more like a grumpy bear, trying to ignore the longing in her voice. ‘I did ask for it to be taken down before I arrived.’
‘Take it down. Why? It’s Christmas.’ The shock in her voice was crystal clear but, then, she didn’t understand that he no longer indulged in sentiments like that.
‘It was Christmas.’ The words were growled out as he pushed back emotions he still couldn’t deal with. How could anyone come to terms with the knowledge that they’d caused an accident that had taken the life of a friend? His recklessness that day on the track had wrecked one family’s Christmas for ever, depriving young children of their father.
She shook her head. Fast little shakes that made her hair move and glisten like gold beneath the hall lights. ‘Christmas hasn’t finished yet and you are celebrating New Year here.’
‘I’m entertaining my family. Nothing more.’ He didn’t want to take this any further and turned towards the dining room, leaving her little choice but to follow. She’d only been here a short time and already she was disturbing the inner peace he’d thought he was finally beginning to achieve, threatening to open up wounds that had only just started to heal.
‘This is where I will entertain my guests this evening.’ He stood back as she entered the large and stately room, the long table capable of seating at least ten people taking centre stage.
She stood quietly next to him but he could tell she was desperate to walk around the room, touch the old furnishings and feel the ambiance of the place. He stifled a smile as she took out her notepad and pen, using the cover of efficiency to hide that fact.
‘It’s a very big table. How would you like it set for this evening’s dinner? At one end, perhaps closest to the fireplace?’ She looked up at him and he felt as if he’d been caught out as his study of her had been blatant. For a moment her eyes searched his, questions lingering in hers, and a flush of heat coloured her cheeks, something he found quite endearing.
‘Sì, by the fire is good.’ He moved away from her and the temptation she represented, but he couldn’t stop watching her.
As she wrote down notes, he enjoyed the way her hand moved fluidly across the page. With her head bent, her blonde hair slid off her shoulder, forming a curtain of gold. He itched to reach out and push it back, wanting to see the concentration on her face, to feel it with the stroke of his hand across her skin.
She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes locking with his, and questions surfaced once again in the summer sky blue of hers. ‘And the champagne? Perhaps here would be best?’ She moved further away from him and he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d held onto. He had to stop this.
Her footsteps were muffled on the carpet as he watched her walk towards the ornate sideboard, stopping to make further notes. Then she moved to the tall windows, her air of professionalism momentarily forgotten as an almost childlike joy shone from her. ‘It’s snowing again.’
Thankful for the distraction, he crossed the room to join her. As he stood behind her he realised just how small and delicate she was and a powerful urge to protect her washed over him.
He looked down at her at the exact moment she turned to look up at him. The warm blue of her eyes, which instantly reminded him of the Mediterranean Sea, drew him closer to her. He could smell her perfume, dusky roses, as it weaved around him, invading every part of him. The urge to lower his head and feel her full lips against his was so strong that he could actually taste her.
‘I had better get started.’ She ducked away from him, leaving him looking out at the view. What had just happened? He’d nearly lost control, nearly allowed himself to imagine things that were no longer possible. He hadn’t been the same man after the accident and he had no right to want any woman, especially this bubbly blonde—not in any way.
He couldn’t risk hurting anyone else.
* * *
Tilly’s heart pounded so hard she was sure it must be echoing all around the old house. For a brief moment she’d seen raw desire in Xavier’s eyes and had been convinced he was about to kiss her. No, that couldn’t be possible. An attractive and successful man would only look past her, but she couldn’t shake the thought of him kissing her. Worse than that, she’d wanted him to. The heady longing that had engulfed her so rapidly still hummed inside her, shocking her with its intensity. She’d never felt anything like this before. Was this what Jason had wanted from her when in her innocence she’d thought she could keep him as a friend?
She almost groaned aloud. She didn’t want to think of Jason and what had happened last New Year’s Eve. She’d left London to avoid doing that. Now Xavier Moretti, with his dark and brooding attitude, which called to her on a level she hadn’t known existed, opened all those memories up again for further scrutiny.
‘I have made slight amendments to your menu requests,’ she said officiously, desperate to regain control. She took in a somewhat ragged breath, trying to find her normal well-balanced sense of what was right and wrong. And wanting this man to kiss her was wrong. Very wrong.
‘So long as it still remains mostly Italian, as I requested.’ He strode across the room and she moved back away from him until she stood against the ornately carved chair at the head of the dining table, its solidness grounding her.
‘I spent some of my early childhood in Tuscany with my grandmother. It’s where my love of food and cooking came from, so I can assure you your menu will remain true to Italy.’
He stopped and looked directly into her eyes, his brows raised in question. Or was that shock? ‘Your grandmother is Italian?’
‘Yes,’ she said, unashamedly proud of her heritage. ‘She named me Natalie because I was born on Christmas Eve. My mother, however, preferred Tilly so it was only ever Nonna who used my full name.’
‘Your surname is not Italian.’ His accent had become more pronounced, but his tone was firm and controlled.
‘No, my grandmother married an Englishman, which divided the family, and my father was the only child of that love match. Then he married my mother, an Englishwoman, and they moved to London.’ She began to explain, then realised he probably wasn’t interested and that she’d better concentrate on work, instead of divulging her family history.
He took a step towards her and instinctively she moved back, pressing herself more firmly against the back of the chair, wishing he would leave and give her space to think, room to breathe. The effect he was having on her was unlike anything she’d ever known.
‘In that case, I am looking forward to seeing your changes.’ His accented voice had a deep sensual undertone, which only intensified the flutter of attraction she was finding hard to ignore.
‘Thank you, I’m sure you will be more than pleased with them,’ Tilly rambled, still confused by the way her body reacted each time he spoke or looked at her from those sexy black eyes. It certainly wasn’t professional but it made her feel alive.
He continued in fluid Italian and she blinked in shock. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, as the usual sadness washed over her. ‘I don’t remember much of the language. Nonna died when I was only thirteen. My mother is English and although we did use Italian in the home, it wasn’t very often.’
Sometimes she thought she must remember all those conversations with Nonna, that deep inside her they were waiting to come out. She just wasn’t ready for that to happen yet, because that would mean going through all the heartache and loneliness she’d experienced since her father had died. She could see now that Jason had helped her even before their childhood friendship had moved towards engagement. He’d filled the large void in her life—until he’d found someone else.
Xavier shrugged in that sexy devil-may-care way he’d done as she’d stood in the courtyard and her heart rate began to accelerate once more. ‘It is sad, no? When you have Italian ancestors.’
‘Maybe one day I’ll take Italian classes, or even go to Italy,’ she said lightly, wanting to move on from this discussion. It made her think of Jason, their broken engagement and the vows she’d made to herself that day. That had been the beginning of her bucket list. Things to do since she was no longer part of a couple. So far she’d only ticked off one, to start up her business and to provide for herself. The remainder, including finding her father’s family, still called to her.
‘Sì, you should do that.’ He moved to the door and turned to look at her, his tall body framed by the dark wood surround. ‘You shouldn’t deny your past.’
‘My past?’ What did he know of her past? She’d always made sure her private life never crossed into her business. She didn’t want people knowing about Jason jilting her hours before their wedding. It left her feeling vulnerable and she’d had enough of other people’s pity.
‘Your Italian ancestry.’ He frowned and she realised her immediate leap to defensive mode had alerted him to something he hadn’t even been aware of.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said, and pushed her body away from the chair and walked towards him as he stood in the doorway. ‘I will go to Italy one day.’ It was on her bucket list after all.
He nodded his approval at what she hoped was a light-hearted comment and moved to leave the room. ‘I have work to do before this evening and I’m sure you have things you need to do but, please, feel free to make yourself at home here.’
‘Thank you, I will.’ Shyness swept over her and she lowered her lashes. The thought of making herself at home here, as if she were a guest, made all sorts of improper images rush through her mind. She looked back up at him and blushed. His handsome face was stern and etched with control. It was hard to believe that only moments ago she’d thought he might kiss her. Or had that just been her fanciful imagination?
‘Mi scusi, Natalie.’
Before she had time to remind him nobody had ever called her Natalie, except her grandmother, he was gone. She could hear him striding back through the hall at a fast pace, obviously wanting to relinquish any responsibility to her.
‘Grazie, Xavier,’ she whispered to the emptiness of the room, enjoying the feeling of Italian on her tongue. Then she shook her head vigorously against the longing to be kissed his look had ignited in her. Silly girl, don’t even go there. He hadn’t been about to kiss you.
From what little she knew of him from the internet she guessed he would be a playboy, a man who never dated a woman twice. He was not what she wanted. She wanted to be loved and cherished and to find her happy-ever-after. He was her client—nothing more.
But still her mind wandered back to the sexy Italian who’d just stalked out of the room. She looked at her watch, hoping that soon her staff and his guests would arrive. She wouldn’t have any time for improper thoughts then.
She forced her mind back to the job she was here for and the preparations still to be made. The sooner she got them started the sooner she could finish and leave for the bed and breakfast she’d booked. Tomorrow she would go to Vanessa’s family home, to a party that would test her ability to have moved on from last year.
She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted by Xavier Moretti. He was not what she needed, no matter how charming and handsome he was.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6e186f09-2fdb-52cf-a14e-139fdbfab7cf)
TILLY DIDN’T DARE leave the dining room and wondered what had just happened. She lingered, hoping that he would have gone to do his work if she stayed for a while. She made more notes and plans for the dinner party and tried not to remember the moment she’d thought he was going to kiss her. It had terrified and excited her all at the same time.
Xavier Moretti was typical of men with wealth and power, using them to get what he wanted. But he had the added advantage of more sex appeal than was necessary. He must be used to just about every female he came across falling at his feet. She knew he was toying with her, flirting and using his charm just because he could, but she wouldn’t succumb, she’d had enough hurt recently. But somewhere deep inside she was unnerved to realise she wanted to.
With this thought foremost in her mind, she knew she couldn’t hide away and made her way back in to the hall and towards the kitchen, smiling as she passed the Christmas tree. Whatever Xavier Moretti’s problem was with it, she loved its bright cheerfulness. Moments before she entered the kitchen the smell of fresh coffee alerted her to Xavier’s presence.
He was stood against the range cooker, looking disturbingly sexy. Or was that just the aftermath of her daydreams?
‘Problems?’ His dark eyes seemed to mock her thoughts, as if he knew she’d spent the last half an hour longing to know how it would feel to be kissed by him.
‘No,’ she replied, deciding that if she got straight to work he would probably leave. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’
‘You are not disturbing me, cara. I was just making coffee.’ His accent, together with the term of endearment, sent a tingle of awareness zipping through her and she grappled for something neutral to focus her mind on.
‘It’s still snowing.’ The delight at the prospect of snow was now beginning to be replaced by unease, scrambling her thoughts. Or was it just being in Xavier’s company?
‘Sì,’ he said, his attention focused firmly on her, unsettling her as she opened her folder with the itinerary of all she needed to do ahead of this evening. ‘But I’m sure the roads are clear. It looks worse than it is, with nothing but parkland surrounding us.’
‘I certainly hope so,’ she said quickly, trying to quell her panic over his mention of clear roads, something she hadn’t considered when wrapped up in her newly created fantasy world. ‘I have two members of staff due to arrive from London in a few hours.’
He didn’t reply, but the heavy look in his dark eyes as he studied her left her in no doubt he’d heard her. She looked down at the pages in her folder, trying to make sense of the words, which seemed to dance on the page as her heart thumped hard. What was the matter with her? She’d never behaved like this over a man but, then, Jason and his calm, safe presence in her life was all she’d known. Since her early teens they’d been inseparable.
The fizzing excitement as Xavier’s gaze met hers was something she and Jason had never shared. Could the lack of such intensity have been his reason for calling a halt to the wedding?
She still recalled the painful blow of his words as he’d told her he didn’t love her, that he couldn’t marry her because of a brief affair. One that had made him realise there was more to life than waiting for her to be ready, and in a moment of daring rebellion she’d added romantic fling to her bucket list. Not only that, she’d told Vanessa, who constantly reminded her of it.
Now Xavier had made her examine things she’d finally begun to move on from. Angry he even had that power, she began opening cupboards, lifting out the pans and bowls she needed to start preparing tonight’s meal. Now was not the time to think of Jason and it certainly wasn’t the time to think of Xavier—in any way except as her client. It wasn’t as if she was about to have that romantic fling with him.
‘I’m positive they will arrive.’ She glanced at him, the hint of amusement in his voice catching her attention. ‘Just as I am sure my guests will also arrive. If we were at my home in the Italian mountains I would say that we are almost certainly destined to spend at least the next few days alone here.’
Romantic images of his home in Italy, mountains covered in snow, and spending time in front of roaring open fires with a particular sexy Italian rushed into her mind. ‘Thankfully we are not in Italy,’ she snapped, annoyed with herself for allowing such thoughts to manifest themselves so rapidly and vividly.
He laughed. A low slumberous sound that sent her pulse into overdrive. He dominated the kitchen, despite the capacious amount of space within the room.
‘So the idea of being alone together doesn’t appeal to you, cara?’ His accent had become heavier as he looked at her intently, his eyes so black they resembled a starless night sky.
‘It’s not something I’ve considered,’ she replied in a brisk matter-of-fact tone, and began to empty some of her boxes. She tried had to not think about it, not when there was danger is such thoughts. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’
* * *
Xavier watched as Tilly arranged her things on the table with careful attention to detail. He couldn’t help but smile. She had considered the thought of being here alone with him. Just as he had. He’d surprised himself by wishing they were at his home in the mountains, where once the snow started it would build up quickly, rendering them snowbound.
Rational thoughts kicked back in. If they were alone, truly alone, he wasn’t sure he could ignore the attraction, which very definitely existed between them. Not to mention that time alone with her would inevitably mean she would learn too much about him.
His guilt and anguish about the accident would soon become evident and that was something he went to great lengths to conceal—even from himself. He hadn’t spent one night with a woman since he’d banished Carlotta from his life the day after the accident. So why was the idea of being with Tilly becoming so appealing?
He looked up at the large clock on the kitchen wall. Just four more hours until his family arrived. He resented that they’d come all the way from Italy, forcing him to host the evening, challenging him to be the man he’d been before the accident. If it had been anyone else other than his parents suggesting they spend New Year’s Eve celebrating, he’d have said no.
At least once they were here he would be safe from the temptation of this bright and bubbly blonde, the first woman who had tempted him since the accident.
‘When do you expect your staff to arrive?’ He hoped it was soon, because right now he wanted to kiss her, just as he’d wanted to in the dining room. He still couldn’t comprehend that within less than an hour of her arrival he’d been forced to hold back the need to feel her lips beneath his.
That sort of loss of control was not him. He was calm and precise in all he did, paying attention to every small detail. He knew well enough exactly what one moment of recklessness could do. To want to kiss this woman was irresponsible in every sense of the word, but he liked to get what he wanted—and right now that was Natalie Rogers.
She glanced at the clock, then back at him. ‘They should be here just after lunch.’
‘Va bene,’ he replied, as he moved towards the table and closer to Tilly, unexplainably drawn to her. She looked warily at him, reinforcing the boundaries she’d already subtly laid down. So why did he want to challenge and test them?
All he needed to do was avoid the kitchen until her staff arrived. If he locked himself away in the small lounge he’d chosen as his study he could finish the reports he’d brought with him and avoid giving in to the primal call this woman was making to him. It was something he’d never known before and adrenalin flowed through him, making him feel alive and powerful. Exactly the way he’d always felt sitting astride his bike at the beginning of a race, when the desire to win had been all that had mattered.
Not that he’d ever race again. Those days were over—finished by an accident which lingered in his mind by day and haunted his dreams by night. Instead he’d increased production at his bike factory in Milan and set up a scholarship school, touring Europe in the hope of teaching young riders to race safely.
His heart thumped and in his head unbidden memories lurked, threatening to overwhelm him. He leant on the back of a chair, waiting for the pain in his legs to pass, a constant reminder of the months he’d spent in hospital after the crash. He gritted his teeth against his anger.
For the last year he’d been free of moments like this—at least during the day. He knew exactly why it was happening again. Because it was Christmas. The time of year he thought of a family missing that one special person—the rider he’d brought down by his reckless riding. His friend, damn it.
A warm hand touched his arm. The feel of it through his shirt and cashmere sweater brought him back from the edge of the guilt-filled hole he’d been looking into, which had been threatening to drag him back into its hellish depths.
‘Are you okay?’ Tilly’s soft voice, full of concern, hauled him back the rest of the way. He lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes, which were as blue as the sea on a summer day.
‘Sì,’ he growled and pushed back from the chair, severing the contact of her touch. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. He didn’t need her soft touch and concern. If she knew the truth, knew all the damning facts about the accident, she wouldn’t be so quick to offer her compassion.
He sensed her draw back. Saw her step away, anxiously catching her bottom lip with her teeth, but still the anger and guilt he’d carried since the accident raged inside him. Tilly was doing exactly what Carlotta had done the first day she’d visited him in hospital—backing away in disgust. Carlotta had despised him because of what had happened. The unwritten message in her face had fuelled his guilt and anger.
‘Are you sure?’ Tilly’s voice, hesitant and gentle, cracked the bubble of agony he was in, but anger at the vulnerability she’d exposed remained, tormenting and weakening him.
‘Of course I’m sure.’ The harsh words snapped from him ungraciously. He needed to get the hell out of here, before her concern tipped him over the edge and he submitted to the urge to confide in her about the guilt he’d carried alone for the last three years.
She didn’t say anything but returned to her unpacking, apparently unfazed by his display of anger. She hadn’t deserved that. He should apologise, but afraid that would make her question him further he stalked from the kitchen adamant he would remain out of Tilly’s way for as long as possible.
Those painful memories began to subside, until he walked past the Christmas tree. He couldn’t acknowledge Christmas, not any more, which was why he’d insisted the tree be removed.
All it represented to him was three fatherless children facing another Christmas. His selfish desire to win had done that. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been the only rider not to change tyres, not to heed the warnings of the wet track. None of that mattered, not when he thought of those children. Paulo’s children.
With a heavy sigh he walked on towards the lounge he’d commandeered for the duration of his stay. Once the door was shut he allowed himself to give in to the guilt-laden memories of the day he’d smashed just about every bone in his legs and taken out his friend in the process.
He sat at the desk and turned on his laptop. Would he ever be rid of the horror of that day? Would the guilt that he’d survived ever lessen? He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, refusing to let memories claim him.
When he opened them again he looked out of the old windows at the grey sky, each pane of glass forming a frame for the large flakes of snow that now fell in a swirling dance past the window. The quiet peaceful scene soothed him and eased the physical pain, reminding him of his happy childhood.
* * *
