The Italian's Christmas Secret. Sharon Kendrick
look strong enough to control a pushbike, let alone a car this size. Recriminations could come later, he thought grimly—and they would. First and foremost they needed to get out of here—and to do that, they needed to keep their wits about them.
‘Where exactly are we?’ he said, speaking slowly as if to a very small child.
She swivelled her head to look at the sat-nav for several silent seconds before turning to meet his gaze again.
‘The signal has cut out again. We’re on the edge of Dartmoor.’
‘How close to civilisation?’
‘That’s the trouble. We’re not. We’re miles from anywhere.’ He saw her teeth dig into her lower lip as if she were trying to draw blood from it. ‘And there’s no Wi-Fi connection,’ she finished.
Matteo wanted to slam the flat of his hand against the snow-covered window but he sucked in an unsteady breath instead. He needed to take control.
‘Move over,’ he said roughly as he unclipped his seat belt.
She blinked those great big eyes at him. ‘Move over where?’
‘Onto the passenger seat,’ he gritted out as he pushed open the car door to brace himself against a flurry of snowflakes. ‘I’m taking over.’
He was pretty much covered in ice by the time he got into the car and slammed the door shut, and the bizarre thought which stuck in his mind was how deliciously warm the seat felt from where her bottom had been sitting.
Furious for allowing himself to be distracted by something so basic and inappropriate at a time like this, Matteo reached for the ignition key.
‘You do know not to press down too hard on the accelerator, don’t you?’ she said nervously. ‘Or you’ll make the wheels spin.’
‘I don’t think I need any driving lessons from someone as incompetent as you,’ he retorted. He started the engine and tried moving forward. Nothing. He tried until he was forced to surrender to the inevitable, which deep down he’d known all along. They were well and truly stuck and the car wasn’t going anywhere. He turned to the woman sitting beside him who was staring at him nervously from beneath her peaked cap.
‘So. Bravo,’ he said, his words steeped in an anger he could no longer contain. ‘You’ve managed to get us stranded in one of the most inhospitable parts of the country on one of the most inhospitable nights of the year—just before Christmas. That’s some feat!’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Saying sorry isn’t going to help.’
‘I’ll probably get the sack,’ she whispered.
‘You will if I have anything to do with it—that’s if you don’t freeze to death first!’ he snapped. ‘If it were down to me, I would never have employed you in the first place. But the consequences to your career are the last thing on my mind right now. We need to start working out what we’re going to do next.’
She reached into the glove compartment for her mobile phone but he wasn’t surprised to see her grimace as she glanced down at the small screen. ‘No signal,’ she said, looking up.
‘You don’t say?’ he said sarcastically, peering out of the window where the howling flakes showed no signs of abating. ‘I’m guessing there’s no nearby village?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Well, we did pass a little B&B just a while back. You know, one of those places which offer bed and breakfast for the night.’
‘I’m in the hotel trade,’ he said silkily. ‘And I’m perfectly aware of what a B&B is. How far was it?’
She shrugged. ‘Less than a mile, I’d guess—though it wouldn’t be easy to reach in this kind of conditions.’
‘No kidding?’ Matteo eyed the virtual white-out which was taking place outside the window and his heart thundered as he acknowledged the real danger of their situation. Because suddenly this was about more than just missing his flight or disappointing a woman who had been eager to make him her lover; this was about survival. Venturing outside in this kind of conditions would be challenging—and dangerous—and the alternative was to hunker down in the car for the night and wait for help to arrive tomorrow. Presumably she would have blankets in the boot and they could continue to run the heater. His lips curved into a grim smile. And wasn’t the traditional method of generating heat to huddle two bodies together? But he gave the idea no more than a few seconds’ thought before dismissing it—and not just because she didn’t look as if she had enough flesh on her bones to provide any degree of comfort. No. To take the risk of staying put while the snow came down this fast would be nothing short of madness, for there was no guarantee anyone would find them in the morning.
He ran his gaze over her uniform of navy blue trousers and the sturdy jacket which matched her cap. The material curved over the faint swell of her breasts and brushed against her thighs and was hardly what you would call practical—certainly not appropriate to face the elements at their worst. He sighed. Which meant he would have to give her his overcoat and freeze to death himself. ‘I don’t suppose you have any warmer clothes with you?’
For a few seconds, she seemed to brighten. ‘I’ve got an anorak in the boot.’
‘An anorak?’
‘It’s a waterproof jacket. With a hood.’ She removed her peaked chauffeur’s cap and raked her fingers through her short dark hair and Matteo felt inexplicably irritated by the brief smile which had lightened her pale face.
Was she expecting praise for having had the foresight to pack a coat? he wondered acidly.
‘Just get it and put it on,’ he bit out. ‘And then let’s get the hell out of here.’
KEIRA HAD TO work hard to keep up with Matteo as he battled his way through the deep snow because his powerful body moved much faster than hers, despite the fact that he’d insisted on bringing his suitcase with him. Thick, icy flakes were flying into her eyes and mouth and at times she wondered if she was imagining the small lighted building in the distance—like some bizarre, winter version of an oasis.
Despite putting on the big pair of leather gloves he’d insisted she borrow, her fingers felt like sticks of ice and she gave a little cry of relief when at last they reached the little house. Thank heavens she hadn’t imagined it because she didn’t like to think about Matteo Valenti’s reaction if she’d brought him here on a wild goose chase. He might have insisted on her borrowing his gloves, but even that had been done with a terse impatience. She saw his unsmiling look as he kicked a pile of snow away from the wooden gate and pushed it open, and she stumbled after him up the path to stand beneath the flashing red and gold lights of the illuminated sign overhead. She was shivering with cold by the time he’d jammed his finger on the doorbell and they heard some tinkly little tune playing in the distance.
‘Wh-what if...wh-what if nobody’s in?’ she questioned from between teeth which wouldn’t seem to stop chattering.
‘The light’s on,’ he said impatiently. ‘Of course somebody’s in.’
‘They m-might have gone away for Christmas and left the lights on a timer to deter burglars.’
‘You really think burglars are going to be enticed by a place like this?’ he demanded.
But their bad-tempered interchange was brought to a swift halt by the sound of a lumbering movement from within the house and the door was pulled open by a plump, middle-aged woman wearing a flowery apron which was smeared with flour.
‘Well, bless my soul!’ she said, opening the door wider as she peered out into the gloom. ‘You’re not carol singers, are you?’
‘We are not,’ answered