The Mills & Boon Sparkling Christmas Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
muttering curses beneath his breath. Had the damn thing cursed him? No, he’d done that all by himself.
He marched into the small lounge and glanced out of the window. Thankfully it hadn’t snowed again. At least he could organise to get them away from here. He picked up his phone from the desk and as he turned he saw the fire, now just a mass of grey cold ashes. It had been as hot as the passion between him and Tilly when they’d spent the night beneath throws in front of it.
He cursed fluidly in Italian. He and Tilly could never be together. She was far better off without him in her life. He was being selfish to want her. For once in his life he’d think of someone else. It was, after all, just a fling to get over another man she’d wanted.
Angered by that thought, he quickly accessed his emails, sending a message first to Paulo’s widow, warning her he might not make it to her charity event in Milan, then to a friend in London, explaining the situation and asking if they could source a car and driver who could cope in the conditions as quickly as possible, stressing it had to be today. He pressed ‘send’ but it didn’t make him feel relieved at all. It only highlighted that he couldn’t spend another night with Tilly, although he wanted many more nights such as last night.
‘Morning.’ Tilly’s voice broke into his thoughts as she walked into the room, dressed once more in her jeans and black roll neck jumper. ‘Thank goodness it didn’t snow any more in the night. Maybe we can leave today.’
‘Buon giorno.’ Part of him wished it had snowed, wished that it was so deep they’d be here for days, locking them away from the world and reality in a place where they could explore the desire that raged between them. ‘I’ve made enquiries about someone fetching us today.’
Their eyes met and in those few seconds he thought he saw sadness in hers, but then it was gone. ‘Good,’ she said with obvious relief, walking to the window, looking out as the rising sun cast an orange glow on everything. ‘It looks so pretty out there, but it must be cold.’
‘Freezing.’ He joined her at the window, resisting the urge to stand too close. If he did, he’d want to take her in his arms and kiss her. Such thoughts had to be pushed firmly from his mind, for her sake. Their time together was almost over. The real world called.
* * *
Tilly stood by the window, looking out at the snow, desperately trying not to notice the way her heart leapt just because Xavier had moved closer. Again he’d left her as daylight had returned. Alone in his bed, the bed he’d carried her to. It had given a clear message, just as she had when they’d met on the landing. By leaving her this morning he was saying it was over, which made it easier, because if he’d kissed her again...
As he stood looking out at the snow he didn’t make any reference to last night. Despite what she’d told him, part of her hoped that at least he would acknowledge their night together. If that didn’t tell her it was over, nothing did, but the sense of loss which filled her was intense.
By this evening she would be back in her flat. All she wanted now was to leave this place and go back to her life as if their paths had never crossed, although her bucket list would be one item shorter.
She turned away from the window, the cold and lifeless hearth of the fire signifying her moment out of reality was over. She didn’t know how long she could keep up the pretence of indifference when every nerve in her body was screaming for him.
‘When do you expect someone to arrive?’ She all but snapped the words at him in an attempt to stay in control of her battered emotions.
‘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,