New Year at the Boss's Bidding(15)

The outrage at his assumption sent her mind into turmoil, as did the  knowledge he was right. She had completed her contract. She was no  longer here in a professional capacity. 'That doesn't change anything.'

* * *

Xavier shrugged. He'd enjoyed the kiss last night, maybe even a little  too much, but was he ready to get involved with another woman,  especially one who wanted the full package, the happy-ever-after? Since  the accident he'd only dated women, never going beyond dinner, unable to  deal with their almost certain revulsion at his scarring.

He sensed Tilly was different and had tested the boundaries she'd set.  She may have kissed him back, may have been tempted by the passion that  burned like glowing embers between them, but the fact she'd fled last  night had given him a very clear message. She was off limits, he should  heed that, instead of taking it as a challenge. He wasn't the man he  used to be.

'I still can't stay here-alone with you, Xavier. People will talk.' A  hint of resignation lingered in those last words and he knew she was  right. People would gossip and make assumptions.

'Does it really matter what people say?' He stepped towards her and saw her eyes widen, saw the doubt and anxiety in them.

'I'm not forcing you to stay, Natalie. Go if that's what you have to  do.' He stepped back. He wasn't going to make her do anything. Stay or  go. It was a decision she had to make for herself.

'It doesn't look as if I have any choice in the matter. I'm going to  have to stay here.' She snapped the words out, agitation in every step  as she walked back towards the kitchen.

He turned in the doorway and looked at her, annoyed by the look of  devastation on her face. Was spending time with him that bad? 'Very  well, cara. I will fetch more logs for the fire.'

'That sounds like you expect us to be here for days.' Her big blue eyes widened with incredulity.

'At my home in the Italian mountains, if bad weather is forecast it is  sensible to make such preparations.' He opened the door, about to go  back to the outbuildings, the chill from outside cooling the ardour that  just thinking of her kiss infused through him.

'We are not in the Italian mountains.' Irritation rang out of every syllable and she fixed him with a fierce glare.

'This is true, but the forecast is not good, so indulge me in this at  least, cara.' He injected light humour into his voice and was rewarded  with the smallest of smiles, the irritation of moments ago seemingly  forgotten. Her lips, which had felt so good against his last night,  lifted fractionally.

'Do what you feel necessary. I'm going to check the forecast for  myself.' The brashness of her voice as she picked up her phone from the  neat pile of paperwork wasn't lost on him, but he couldn't resist the  urge to provoke more of a reaction from her.

'Don't you trust me?' The question hung between them as once again he came under her scrutiny.

'Actually, no, I don't.' The matter-of-fact reply shocked him and if he  were truthful, he would admit the same. He shouldn't be trusted, not  after her kiss had begun to melt his stern control. He didn't trust  himself. It would be wise to step back from whatever it was arcing  between them. It was something he wasn't ready for.                       
       
           



       

'Va bene, cara. You check the weather, reassure yourself I'm telling  the truth and not keeping you here for my own pleasure. While you do  that I'll fetch more logs.' He turned and left through the back door,  welcoming the cool air against his face.

It had started to snow again as he crossed the courtyard and the sky  was heavy and ominously grey. Tilly didn't need to look up more weather  forecasts-she should just step outside, feel the icy wind and see the  snow beginning to fall again.

As he loaded the basket with logs he kept his mind on the weather.  Allowing it to wander elsewhere would mean going back to the moment last  night just before he'd kissed her. The moment he'd stopped, reminding  himself she wasn't one of his usual female companions.

She was different-and he'd known that from the first moment he'd seen  her, but he'd lost reason and given in to the need to feel her lips  beneath his. Any honourable intentions had evaporated as she'd  responded, instantly firing the desire that had simmered inside him.

Smettila! No good would come of replaying that moment over and over. He  had to stay resolved to the fact it had meant nothing. Hundreds of  people would have shared a kiss at midnight on New Year's Eve.

But would it have been a kiss like that?

'Maledizione!' He cursed as he filled the log basket, hurling them in  harder than was necessary. Never had he known a woman to affect him so  much. Why did it have to be this one and why now?

Snow was falling steadily as he made his way back to the house, content  that if the worst happened and they lost power, as was often the case  at his mountain home, they would be warm.

He tried to push all his thoughts away, lock them behind a door and  return to the professional relationship she had worked hard to maintain.  But that kiss lingered in his mind and a hot burning need streaked  through him. They had been warm last night. Too warm.

As he closed the back door against the swirling snow, she came into the  hall, her phone still in her hand, a worried frown creasing her brow.  If he could give in to the instinct of protection, he'd wrap his arms  around her and tell her it would be all right, but he couldn't allow  that temptation.

'You were right,' she said, the heated tone of her words letting him  know it hurt to admit that. 'I've rung Vanessa and she said the roads  are bad there and insisted that I should stay here.'

'And are you?' He watched the worry and panic filter across her face, wishing he could smooth them away with a kiss.

'Am I what?' The question snapped at him, revealing much more of her fear than he thought she'd like him to know.

'Going to stay here?'

'I don't have much choice about it.'

He stifled a smile and adopted an air of aloofness. 'In that case, I  suggest making up the fire in the small lounge for this evening.'

'The small lounge?'

'It is where I was working yesterday and is much smaller. If the  electricity fails, it will be warmer.' He carried the log basket along  the corridor and out into the main hallway. The damn Christmas tree  still mocked him with its merriment. If they stayed here much longer,  he'd be forced to do something about that. Every time he saw it he  imagined those children having Christmas after Christmas without their  father.

He forced the dark thoughts of Paulo from his mind and went into the  small lounge. He knew she'd followed him. He could feel it with every  nerve in his body but pushed away the pulse of desire as it began to  move through him.

'Wouldn't going to bed be warmer?' The innocent question rocked his senses, sending them spiralling into overdrive.

He put down the basket on the hearth of the fireplace and looked at  Tilly as a blush spread across her cheeks. The kick of lust that burst  through him at the thought of her in his bed and in his arms made a  response to such an innocent comment almost impossible.

'Alone,' she added firmly, before he could muster his response.

'Sitting here together, in front of a fire, will be much warmer and far more sociable, no?'

'Not very professional, though,' she added with a haughty rise of her brows that verged on flirtatious.

'I thought we'd settled this. You are no longer here in an official  capacity.' He moved towards her, drawn by the memory of her lips against  his. 'Your contract was completed once dinner was over last night. You  are now my guest.'

* * *

Tilly could hardly think for the pounding of her heart. Did he have to  move so close, remind her of the kiss she'd responded to?

'I-I still have work to do,' she stammered, and stepped away from him,  away from the temptation of inhaling his heady masculine scent. 'I have  things to pack away, and if we are going to be here tonight we'll need  to eat, so I am still working for you.'                       
       
           



       

She knew she was talking too much, that her jumble of thoughts would  probably sound incoherent. Jason had always told her she talked too much  when she was nervous. Jason. The name dropped into her mind like a  large stone into a rock pool, sending all previous thoughts out in a  huge splash.

At least it focused her mind. It didn't matter how much she was  attracted to Xavier, he wasn't what she needed in life. The last thing  she wanted was a man renowned for working hard and playing even harder.

'You are now my guest, Natalie, but if it makes you feel better, va bene.'

His voice was deep and those Italian words not only set her heart  racing but tugged at precious memories from long ago. They became as  clear as if they'd happened yesterday-her grandmother cooking, her  parents happy together. All that had been before her father's illness,  before her childhood had been shattered by his death.