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‘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.
With the weight of the past pressing down on her, she forced her mind back to the present, her voice sharper than she’d intended. ‘It does make me feel better, so I’ll leave you to do the caveman job and light the fire.’ Before he could say anything she strode purposefully from the room. Time away from the aura of power he exuded was necessary if her heart rate was to return to anything like normal.
As she left the room she heard the low rumble of his laugh and marvelled that she could find it so sexy, so appealing when he was clearly mocking her, entertaining himself at her expense.
Xavier’s charm was lethal if nothing else. Anywhere else she could walk away, but stuck here in this rambling old house, cocooned from the real world, it was different—very different and very dangerous.
‘Don’t fall for his charm,’ she berated herself angrily, as she continued to pack away her catering equipment, certain that first thing tomorrow she would be on the way to see Vanessa before returning to London and reality. This surreal interlude would be over, forgotten and dismissed.
