New Year at the Boss's Bidding(2)

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.