Confessions of a Chalet Girl:. Lorraine Wilson
crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him, but tellingly her pupils dilated into two black pools, vivid against irises of deep forest green. Her lips parted.
He knew the signs when a woman was attracted to him. But this felt different. More. Warmer, softer and far more meaningful.
He should lay off, take a step back.
She's staff, remember!
A glimpse of pink tongue between Holly's white teeth distracted him and he wondered how she would taste if he kissed her. This was all her fault for being so damned irresistible.
‘The bra was too plain as well. I’m guessing you’re a lacy bra kind of girl, and you go in for colour too.’
‘Oh.’ Her mouth opened and then abruptly closed again as she fixed her eyes on her boots. Her body might be speaking the language of desire but her troubled eyes said she was conflicted.
Scott regretfully decided it was time to back off. Time to act like an employer.
Remember what happened last time you broke the rules?
A nightmare he'd be mad to repeat.
‘Would you like a proper tour of the main chalet?’ he asked. ‘Now's the best time, the lull before the storm. Unless Sophie's already shown you?’
‘We didn't have time.’ Holly bit her lip, a tiny gesture that sent a volt of sexual energy coursing through his veins.
‘Okay, follow me.’ Scott strode off quickly before the close confines of the hallway led him to do something he shouldn't.
In the main open plan living area mellow flames still flickered in the fireplace. They cast a soft, amber haze over the room's leather sofas and faux fur throws.
‘Sheepskin, cow skin… Any other animals to declare?’ Holly grinned.
He liked that she was taking the mickey.
‘Actually I think the rug under that table over there is goatskin. I know, it's a bit of a cliché but it's what the guests expect. Chalet chic. Looks simple and rustic but costs the earth.’
‘I think it’s fab. And so lovely to have a real fire too.’ She walked towards the hearth, stretching out her hands.
He imagined Holly lying on the rug in front of the fire, her curves highlighted by the soft light.
Clearing his throat, he wrenched his eyes away. ‘Do you need to make your phone call or can it wait?’
‘It can wait.’
‘Follow me.’ He led her to the guest suites, striding ahead to make sure she didn't come too close. He wasn't sure how long his resolve might hold. The client accommodation reminded him of his earlier suspicion. He turned to face her.
‘You still haven’t answered my question. If it wasn’t yours, where did the bra come from?’
He couldn’t help himself. The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Like steak and chips when you were on a diet, teasing Holly was just too tempting.
‘Chalet Repos' lost property.’ Her confident stare radiated defiance.
‘So our guests pay for the luxury experience and you choose to drape their underwear in public for the whole of Verbier to see?’
‘But it's okay to let your staff face some initiation where they have to flash their underwear to the entire resort? I’m quite sure it contravenes some employment law or other.’
Checkmate.
‘Why do you want this job?’ Genuine curiosity prompted the question.
‘Why spend the winter temping in a London office and cramming yourself onto the tube when you can ski all day and hit the town at night?’
He'd heard this argument many times. Gut instinct said she was parroting what she’d heard someone else say. Holly wasn't a party animal. Was she going to give him a straight answer to any question he asked?
‘Right.’ He remained unconvinced. ‘Well, it's part of your job to make sure our guests have their every whim met. Whatever the guest wants, from fireworks to an off-piste expedition, we organise it. That's what we do; help them experience life to the max.’
Great, now he sounded like a cola commercial.
‘Err, when you say every whim…’
‘Every whim within reason that is,’ he replied, trying very hard to suppress all the whims he’d like Holly to satisfy. ‘Nothing dodgy obviously. Don’t worry. Come to me if you have any problems with … ahem, sexual harassment.’
‘Like people asking me questions about my underwear for example?’ She smiled sweetly.
This girl was trouble.
He grinned. ‘Yes…something like that. Right, I’d better dash and let you make that phone call. I’ve got a date with some paperwork. And another thing - do you mind if I leave your ski pass ‘til the morning? I expect you can’t wait to hit the slopes.’
‘Err, no that will be fine. Well, um, goodnight.’ Her eyes searched his for a few seconds before she averted her gaze. Was she looking for something? Hoping for something?
‘Goodnight.’ He turned away. Walking to his office was one of the strongest tests of self-control he’d ever known.
***
Holly paced the room clasping her iPhone. As it was more of a broom cupboard with bunk beds than a real bedroom this was difficult. She thought about the banter with Scott and smiled. She'd won that last point nicely. Although, what if he now thought she didn't want him to flirt?
Well then, that would be good because she didn't want him to. Did she?
She stared out of the window. The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes as large as her palm. The view of the valley with its snow-laden pine trees and picturesque chalets bathed in the moonlight soothed her.
She scrolled through her contacts list, maybe it was a bit late to ring. She’d text Pippa instead.
Hi Pips. Am in Verbier now at Chalet. Was forced to strip in bar tonight. All your frickin’ fault! Can’t believe you got me into this!!! Hope things are okay hun xx
A beep signalled a reply.
Hey! Fast work there grasshopper ;-) Landed a zillionaire yet? xx
Hmm, I met a rather interesting guy who kept going on about my underwear… Well, maybe she wouldn’t send that reply. Instead she typed:
Get real – I’ve got to be up at stupid o’clock to clean toilets, no time for zillionaires! Snow is lush though. Wish you were here H xx
Pippa’s reply appeared on her screen as she watched.
Put your big girl pants on and go get yourself a man ;-) P xx
Great, why did Pippa insist on assuming all Holly needed was a man? It did Holly's head in. She’d told her often enough she wasn't bothered. What she needed was to be as far away from home as possible and to be left alone. She looked around at the four bunks squeezed tightly into the cramped space.
Alone was something she was going to struggle to be.
***
‘Give us a snog love.’ One of the guests leered towards Holly, red-faced and with a paunch that bulged over his waistband, shirt buttons straining.
She reeled back from the alcohol fumes on his breath, almost gagging. The chimes of the church clock rang out the New Year, sounding sharp and clear on the alpine air.
Holly cursed the enforced jollity of New Year and drunken morons … sorry, 'paying guests', to whom she had