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‘It will be at least lunchtime, but we should be back in London by the evening.’ He strode across the room and stood by the open door. She looked up at him, seeing not a trace of the man she’d spent the last two days with. ‘I’ll make us some breakfast.’
‘No, I should do that.’ If he made her breakfast after what they’d shared last night, it would be too intimate and too painful.
‘No, you are my guest.’ The insistence in his voice halted her, stemming the flow of anxious words from bubbling up within her. She’d been his guest since midnight on New Year’s Eve and had become just another woman on his long list of conquests, exactly what she hadn’t wanted to be.
Before she could argue further he left and for a moment she just stood staring at where he’d been standing. Inside her something snapped, or fell into place. Either way, things had changed. ‘Do you always make women breakfast?’
‘Never.’ He marched off, his icy comment lingering in the air as if winter had entered the house.
She was just one of many who’d shared his bed, his passion, but never his love. For the last two nights she’d loved him, not just with her body but with her heart. She’d known it was a mistake. He’d slipped beneath the barricades she’d put up around her heart, determined to keep out such emotions. Now he would break her heart, saying goodbye. But he wasn’t her Mr Right, not a womanising man like Xavier Moretti, and she’d do well to remember that.
‘At least let me help.’ From deep within her she drew on strength and courage she hadn’t known she had. He would never know just what he’d unlocked.
He looked at her, raising a brow in that devilishly handsome way, sending her pulse racing. ‘I think I’m capable of making breakfast so, please, sit and relax.’
He glanced at her when she sat at the kitchen table. It all felt too real, too much like normal life and not at all like the nights they had shared. Once again daylight was bringing harsh reality. How could he act as if it hadn’t happened?
‘I know your nonna gave you a love of food and cooking, but what made you set up a business?’ He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, directly into her eyes, his dark ones searching hers. But what for? What was he hoping to find?
She held his gaze boldly. Did he know he’d touched a raw nerve, hit on the one thing she didn’t want to talk about, this morning of all mornings? The last three days had made her look at everything differently, from her need to stay professional to the realisation that she’d never loved Jason, not passionately. She’d also questioned the inability to contact her father’s family, knowing it was because she feared their rejection. They’d done it to her mother, only Nonna having maintained contact.
‘I guess I was looking for a challenge and a bit of spontaneity in my life.’ She used his advice from last night, turned it around and made it fit her explanation, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.
‘As good a reason as any,’ he said, and cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them with obvious ease. Everything seemed so relaxed—apart from her.
‘I’m impressed.’ She couldn’t help but tease him. He really did bring out the lighter side of her, the side that didn’t worry and question everything, not needing to always be in total control. He’d coaxed out her spontaneous side a bit further with each falling snowflake.
‘Then my first mission of the day is complete.’ He put the eggs and toast on the table and sat down, his handsome face holding a hint of mischief. He was enjoying this.
‘And your second mission? Is that to get back to London?’ The questions slipped from her before she thought of any consequences, and judging by the look he cast her way it was exactly what he was hoping for and she hid her desire for things to be different behind bravado. ‘It will be a relief to get back to London.’
‘Have you not enjoyed your time here?’
How could he ask that? Tilly’s heart broke a little as the answer came to mind. Their time together had been nothing more than a fling for him. She’d been a convenient distraction from the situation they’d found themselves in and his obvious dislike of Christmas, which she knew was linked to the accident.
It should have been the same for her. Hadn’t she eventually decided he was her bucket list affair? The one that would help her move on from Jason? Somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of that. Each kiss had touched her heart a little deeper, each touch binding her to him a little bit more. She hadn’t wanted love, hadn’t been seeking it, not after what had happened last year, but it had found her.
