New Year At The Boss's Bidding. Rachael Thomas
still recalled the painful blow of his words as he’d told her he didn’t love her, that he couldn’t marry her because of a brief affair. One that had made him realise there was more to life than waiting for her to be ready, and in a moment of daring rebellion she’d added romantic fling to her bucket list. Not only that, she’d told Vanessa, who constantly reminded her of it.
Now Xavier had made her examine things she’d finally begun to move on from. Angry he even had that power, she began opening cupboards, lifting out the pans and bowls she needed to start preparing tonight’s meal. Now was not the time to think of Jason and it certainly wasn’t the time to think of Xavier—in any way except as her client. It wasn’t as if she was about to have that romantic fling with him.
‘I’m positive they will arrive.’ She glanced at him, the hint of amusement in his voice catching her attention. ‘Just as I am sure my guests will also arrive. If we were at my home in the Italian mountains I would say that we are almost certainly destined to spend at least the next few days alone here.’
Romantic images of his home in Italy, mountains covered in snow, and spending time in front of roaring open fires with a particular sexy Italian rushed into her mind. ‘Thankfully we are not in Italy,’ she snapped, annoyed with herself for allowing such thoughts to manifest themselves so rapidly and vividly.
He laughed. A low slumberous sound that sent her pulse into overdrive. He dominated the kitchen, despite the capacious amount of space within the room.
‘So the idea of being alone together doesn’t appeal to you, cara?’ His accent had become heavier as he looked at her intently, his eyes so black they resembled a starless night sky.
‘It’s not something I’ve considered,’ she replied in a brisk matter-of-fact tone, and began to empty some of her boxes. She tried had to not think about it, not when there was danger is such thoughts. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.’
* * *
Xavier watched as Tilly arranged her things on the table with careful attention to detail. He couldn’t help but smile. She had considered the thought of being here alone with him. Just as he had. He’d surprised himself by wishing they were at his home in the mountains, where once the snow started it would build up quickly, rendering them snowbound.
Rational thoughts kicked back in. If they were alone, truly alone, he wasn’t sure he could ignore the attraction, which very definitely existed between them. Not to mention that time alone with her would inevitably mean she would learn too much about him.
His guilt and anguish about the accident would soon become evident and that was something he went to great lengths to conceal—even from himself. He hadn’t spent one night with a woman since he’d banished Carlotta from his life the day after the accident. So why was the idea of being with Tilly becoming so appealing?
He looked up at the large clock on the kitchen wall. Just four more hours until his family arrived. He resented that they’d come all the way from Italy, forcing him to host the evening, challenging him to be the man he’d been before the accident. If it had been anyone else other than his parents suggesting they spend New Year’s Eve celebrating, he’d have said no.
At least once they were here he would be safe from the temptation of this bright and bubbly blonde, the first woman who had tempted him since the accident.
‘When do you expect your staff to arrive?’ He hoped it was soon, because right now he wanted to kiss her, just as he’d wanted to in the dining room. He still couldn’t comprehend that within less than an hour of her arrival he’d been forced to hold back the need to feel her lips beneath his.
That sort of loss of control was not him. He was calm and precise in all he did, paying attention to every small detail. He knew well enough exactly what one moment of recklessness could do. To want to kiss this woman was irresponsible in every sense of the word, but he liked to get what he wanted—and right now that was Natalie Rogers.
She glanced at the clock, then back at him. ‘They should be here just after lunch.’
‘Va bene,’ he replied, as he moved towards the table and closer to Tilly, unexplainably drawn to her. She looked warily at him, reinforcing the boundaries she’d already subtly laid down. So why did he want to challenge and test them?
All he needed to do was avoid the kitchen until her staff arrived. If he locked himself away in the small lounge he’d chosen as his study he could finish the reports he’d brought with him and avoid giving in to the primal call this woman was making to him. It was something he’d never known before and adrenalin flowed through him, making him feel alive and powerful. Exactly the way he’d always felt sitting astride his bike at the beginning of a race, when the desire to win had been all that had mattered.
Not that he’d ever race again. Those days were over—finished by an accident which lingered in his mind by day and haunted his dreams by night. Instead he’d increased production at his bike factory in Milan and set up a scholarship school, touring Europe in the hope of teaching young riders to race safely.
His heart thumped and in his head unbidden memories lurked, threatening to overwhelm him. He leant on the back of a chair, waiting for the pain in his legs to pass, a constant reminder of the months he’d spent in hospital after the crash. He gritted his teeth against his anger.
For the last year he’d been free of moments like this—at least during the day. He knew exactly why it was happening again. Because it was Christmas. The time of year he thought of a family missing that one special person—the rider he’d brought down by his reckless riding. His friend, damn it.
A warm hand touched his arm. The feel of it through his shirt and cashmere sweater brought him back from the edge of the guilt-filled hole he’d been looking into, which had been threatening to drag him back into its hellish depths.
‘Are you okay?’ Tilly’s soft voice, full of concern, hauled him back the rest of the way. He lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes, which were as blue as the sea on a summer day.
‘Sì,’ he growled and pushed back from the chair, severing the contact of her touch. He didn’t deserve her sympathy. He didn’t need her soft touch and concern. If she knew the truth, knew all the damning facts about the accident, she wouldn’t be so quick to offer her compassion.
He sensed her draw back. Saw her step away, anxiously catching her bottom lip with her teeth, but still the anger and guilt he’d carried since the accident raged inside him. Tilly was doing exactly what Carlotta had done the first day she’d visited him in hospital—backing away in disgust. Carlotta had despised him because of what had happened. The unwritten message in her face had fuelled his guilt and anger.
‘Are you sure?’ Tilly’s voice, hesitant and gentle, cracked the bubble of agony he was in, but anger at the vulnerability she’d exposed remained, tormenting and weakening him.
‘Of course I’m sure.’ The harsh words snapped from him ungraciously. He needed to get the hell out of here, before her concern tipped him over the edge and he submitted to the urge to confide in her about the guilt he’d carried alone for the last three years.
She didn’t say anything but returned to her unpacking, apparently unfazed by his display of anger. She hadn’t deserved that. He should apologise, but afraid that would make her question him further he stalked from the kitchen adamant he would remain out of Tilly’s way for as long as possible.
Those painful memories began to subside, until he walked past the Christmas tree. He couldn’t acknowledge Christmas, not any more, which was why he’d insisted the tree be removed.
All it represented to him was three fatherless children facing another Christmas. His selfish desire to win had done that. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been the only rider not to change tyres, not to heed the warnings of the wet track. None of that mattered, not when he thought of those children. Paulo’s children.
With a heavy sigh he walked on towards the lounge he’d commandeered for the duration of his stay. Once the door