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‘You’ll do well to remember that, Tilly Rogers,’ she said to her reflection, as she looked at the gorgeous black silk dress that had transformed her from hired staff to dinner guest.
She thought of Xavier in the tailored suit that had instantly increased that sizzle of attraction for him. Would he feel the same when he saw her in this dress? Would he think she was attractive? Would he want her? She smiled at the notion of him falling for her as if they were playing out their own fairy-tale.
Annoyed at the direction her thoughts had taken, she twisted her hair into something that resembled a chignon, wishing she’d brought her tried and tested smart black dress instead of this extravagant number that had no place in her life. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d bought it. Glamour and sophistication weren’t in her genetic make-up.
She fastened the straps of her sandals, also part of her impulse buy, and with once last check in the mirror left her room. The walk back downstairs became more infused with anticipation each step she took.
What was the matter with her? She wasn’t going on a date. He wasn’t even her bucket list romantic fling. She was only joining him for dinner because the situation with the weather had left them alone here on New Year’s Eve.
What could be so wrong about that?
As she paused at the bottom of the stairs, absently taking in the Christmas tree, she had the strangest notion that going into the room where Xavier waited and spending the evening with him would change everything. How could a snowstorm and a dinner do that?
* * *
Primal stirrings of longing rushed through Xavier as he waited for Tilly—or Natalie, as he’d come to think of her. He enjoyed using her full name. But it was more than that. Something had burst to life between them since the moment he’d first seen her, standing in the snowy courtyard. Whatever that was, it had drawn him, lured him with the promise of things he wanted but knew he couldn’t have, and not just because she was hiding behind her job. He didn’t deserve such things.
He took a deep steadying breath and looked into the flames of the log fire he’d lit before changing. Natalie was different. She was the kind of woman who made a man instinctively want to offer protection. She evoked a need to cherish and love.
As that last thought drifted unbidden through his mind the door opened and she walked in, her cool demeanour so sophisticated he couldn’t believe she was the same bubbly person who’d arrived this morning. She looked absolutely stunning. The black silk of her dress caressed every curve of her body, but she was swathed in an aura that made her almost untouchable. Was that her defence against the attraction he knew she too felt?
‘Cosi bella.’ The Italian compliment left his lips before he’d realised he’d spoken, but it was the truth. She was beautiful.
The black silk of her dress emphasised her stunning figure and his gaze lingered on her bare shoulders, imagining what it would be like to press his lips against the creamy softness of her skin. She blushed beneath his scrutiny and looked away, confirming his suspicion of defensive barriers against the steadily growing attraction.
‘The fire looks inviting.’ She was obviously intent on taking his attention away from her and maybe that was for the best, but a hint of huskiness lingered in her voice, belying the composure she displayed. ‘I’ve always loved the idea of a real fire.’
‘Have you never spent an evening in front of the warmth of the flames with someone special?’ He reached for the bottle of champagne he’d put to cool and hoped the cold liquid would douse the heat burning within him as the image of the two of them doing just that came unbidden to his mind.
He popped the cork and she gave a startled little gasp, her eyes meeting his as she blushed. ‘No, I haven’t. Unless you count being in country pubs with friends.’
He handed her a flute of champagne, trying to beat down the irrational jealousy that filled him, thinking of her sitting in a cosy pub with another man. ‘And now you are forced to endure my company for the evening.’
‘Endure is a bit strong,’ she said quickly, as her slender fingers held the stem of the flute, her gaze meeting his boldly. ‘Enjoy is a far better word.’
He chinked his flute against hers. ‘Salute! To enjoyment.’
‘To enjoyment,’ she echoed his toast, a small and incredibly sexy smile playing about her lips. ‘And I’m sorry your plans for this evening, have gone wrong.’
‘I very much like the alternative.’ He raised his glass slightly in a silent toast to those changed plans. Her eyes darted from his, breaking the contact.
