New Year at the Boss's Bidding(17)

'Yes, I made a list of all the things I wanted to do.' She'd responded  with more information than she'd intended, the ability to talk to him  like this as unnerving as it was liberating.

'So...' He moved fractionally closer. 'What is on this list?'

'To make my business successful.' She felt her cheeks redden as she  thought of how she'd contemplated a romantic fling with him. 'I only  started it in the spring.'

'That I think is being achieved. Anything else?'

'To go back to Italy and find my father's family. We lost touch when he died.'

'Nothing exciting or different? What about something for you? Something  you'd like to do that would change you or your life?' His words were  velvety smooth and she couldn't look at him, knowing how close he was to  the truth that he could be on the list.

'I'd like to go to America and ride a cowboy trail, and do something  spontaneous.' She couldn't say that something was to have a romantic  fling or that she was seriously considering it right now.

He nodded in approval and the pounding of her heart and the wail of the  wind seemed louder. She couldn't help herself but look into the  darkness of Xavier's eyes, the sizzle of something powerful sparking  between them. He'd admitted to pushing his girlfriend away after the  accident and she knew he'd had a constant string of women in his life  since he'd arrived in London. He was worse than Jason, discarding a  woman without a second thought.

The question was on the tip of her tongue when the lights went out. No  warning flickers this time. Thank goodness for the candles. She didn't  think she could tolerate darkness now, not when her past had been  dragged up for inspection.

'I'll go and check the fuses,' he said as he stood up, the candlelight  softening the usually hard angle of his face. 'But I suspect the storm  is responsible.'

'How long will you be?' The little girl in her surfaced and she fought to keep the tremor from her voice.

'Not long.' He picked his phone up from the table, turned on its torch  and looked at her, concern in his eyes. Was that for her or the  situation? 'Stay here.'

Tilly had no intention of venturing away from the candlelight and  listened to his footsteps as he crossed the wooden floor of the hallway,  feeling more alone than she ever had. The old house wasn't warm and  welcoming any more and the pain of last New Year's Eve lurked in all the  dark corners.

She moved from the sofa and sat down on the rug in front of the fire,  needing the warmth of the leaping flames, wanting to feel the heat on  her face, needing it to stop herself from thinking too much.

* * *

Xavier pushed open the door to find Tilly sitting on the floor, one arm  pulling her knees tight against her body as she sat in front of the  fire. She looked gorgeous. An innocent vulnerability radiated from her  and the urge to protect her, to keep her safe from whatever fears she  was hiding from him, welled up in him.

She looked up at him as he closed the door. 'The power is definitely  off,' he offered, as he made his way to the fire, throwing on another  few logs. 'The blizzard must have brought down power lines.'

'Is it that bad out there?' She shivered and he reached for the faux fur throw that was draped over the sofa.

Her eyes widened as he moved towards her, vulnerability on full display  in their blue depths. Every barrier she'd erected against him was down.  This was the real Tilly.

'This will keep you warm.' He put the throw around her and couldn't  help but inhale her perfume. Light and floral, not at all like the  seductive scent of last night, but it was just as alluring.

'Thank you,' she whispered, the husky sound testing him, reminding him  again how she'd tasted last night, how her body had felt against his.  The frustration of last night not having reached the conclusion he'd  wanted raged inside him, but he pushed it back. He had no right to want  more from her.

He sat down next to her, ignoring the pain in his legs, wanting to be  close to her. The usually bubbly Tilly had disappeared. She was fearful  and he was convinced it was more than just the storm she feared.                       
       
           



       

'You're in pain,' she said softly, concern all over her face.

'A constant reminder of the accident.' He couldn't keep the sternness  from his voice as he tried not to remember his split-second lack of  concentration that had caused the crash.

'Sorry.' She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes, her blue  eyes soft and inviting. He curled his hands into fists to stop himself  from reaching for her. He needed the pain to remind him that his actions  had caused Paulo's death, leaving a widow and young children. He didn't  need her misplaced sympathy.

He sat next to her, the heat of the fire seeping into him as if he were  on a sun-drenched beach. He stretched out his legs and leant his back  against the sofa. Beside him, Tilly moved, drawing herself closer, as if  seeking protection and safety from the darkness. She rested her head on  his shoulder and he put his arm around her, drawing her close. It felt  so right, as if he'd come home.

'How did the accident happen?' Her voice was a whisper, stirring his senses as well as soothing his pain.

He didn't want her to know what he'd done, but for the first time ever  he needed to tell someone, needed to talk. 'It was a wet race,' he  began, sliding back into the horror of that day. 'The track was slick  and like most riders I'd had my tyres changed. The team wanted to make  other adjustments but I wouldn't allow it, not when all the other riders  were out there. Part of the excitement is being in the starting  line-up, engines revving and adrenalin flowing.'

She didn't speak or look at him, as if knowing he didn't want that.  Instead she relaxed against his chest and focused her gaze on the fire.  He lowered his face into her hair and inhaled the fresh smell of  shampoo. But even that couldn't hold him in the present, stop him from  hurtling back to that nightmare day.

He was there at the track, the noise of bikes, the smell of fuel and  the rush of adrenalin so clear. The usual exchanges between teammates  filled the air and in the pit lane he waited for those adjustments to  his bike. He wanted to get out into the line-up, but the mechanics were  still working and he became impatient. His competitors revved their  bikes, the sound a challenge. He told his team to hurry.

'I rushed the pit team to hurry the wet-weather modifications just so I  could get out onto the track. There was no way I was missing the race,  not when the championship was at stake.'

Tilly moved slightly, picked up her glass of wine and took a sip,  shattering the image of the track in his mind. She looked up at him, her  lovely face slightly flushed from the heat of the fire. What would she  say when she knew it was his fault a rider had died, because of him and  his insistence the bike be ready to race?

She was so close he could see the darker flecks within the summer sky  blue of her eyes, which had sparked with passion last night. He could  feel the warmth of her legs against his as she curled up inside the  throw, snuggling closer, unwittingly testing him.

He wanted to keep her against him, needing the comfort of her body and so much more.

'Aren't things like that strictly timed?' she asked, her brows raised  in question, genuine curiosity in her voice. 'I was always under the  impression the pit teams were trained to be fast.'

'Do I detect a little bit of interest in motorcycle racing?' He smiled  at her, despite the heavy cloud of memories which hung over him.

'Not really, sorry.' Her smile was apologetic as she looked up at him,  but it shone in her eyes briefly before it was gone. 'Jason used to  follow all kinds of motorsport.'

Jason again. Damn the man.

'I'm sorry.' She placed her glass on the hearth and touched his arms,  which were tightly folded across his chest. Was that to avoid touching  her or to keep her at bay-emotionally? 'Talking about the accident must  be hard.'

'It is.' He seized on the deviation in the conversation. 'My career ended that day and my life changed-for ever.'

'But you are doing so much good with the scholarship programme.' She  looked into his face, drawing him from the blackness of the mood that  lingered with more threat than the gale-force winds outside the manor  house.

'You know about that?'

She blushed deeply. 'Naturally I research my clients.'

His lips stiffened into a firm line. How much more did she know about him? 'And did you find your research adequate?'

'I didn't look for salacious gossip if that's what you mean.'

'You mean the sort of gossip we are creating at this very moment, alone in a remote house?'                       
       
           



       

He moved forward, drawn by those very kissable lips, wanting nothing  more than to feel them beneath his again. She didn't move, her gaze  holding his, questions and anticipation swirling within them.