The Mills & Boon Sparkling Christmas Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
across the table at him, trying to remember what he’d just asked her, but her mind was blank. All she could think of was that this man was the man she loved, that he could be her Mr Right if things had been different, but she could never tell him. He’d made it plain that their time together meant nothing. Thank goodness she’d told him about her list, that he was merely a tick on that list.
‘I’m sorry if it’s been miserable, stuck here with me.’ There was a hint of hurt in his voice as he spoke firmly, bringing her rapidly from her thoughts.
‘No, it’s not that.’ She struggled to find the right way to explain. ‘Neither of us planned this to happen and if we are totally honest, we know what did happen wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for the snow.’
‘You are right. It wouldn’t have.’ The hard words fired back at her and her heart squeezed with pain. What they’d shared had been nothing more than a passing moment. Two vulnerable people stranded together, sharing secrets. But even so she’d harboured a little bit of hope.
‘And once we are back in London?’ She almost didn’t dare ask, but she needed to know, needed to hear it from him.
For a moment she dared to allow herself to imagine him saying he wanted to see her again, that he wanted much more than just the three nights they’d spent here together. She looked at his hard expression, realising such hope was futile. What they’d shared was over. The mutually beneficial fling had come to an end, expired, just as her contract had done.
‘I will have your van returned to you as soon as possible.’ His voice shattered the fragile image of things she shouldn’t want. The fact that it would be returned and not that he would return it didn’t go unnoticed. All connections would be severed and his life would go on as before. Whereas hers... How could she go back to her life when he’d woken the spontaneous, happy and passionate woman she’d always wished she could be?
‘I don’t want anyone to know about us.’ She looked down at the breakfast, which suddenly looked very unappetising. She was acting from self-preservation. There was no way she could admit what she really wanted. This was worse than her wedding morning when Jason had told her it was over. ‘From a professional point of view, I don’t want to risk future clients finding out.’
‘Sì, that is best. What happened here will stay here, within these walls, probably adding to secrets from generations ago.’
She looked up at him, pain crushing her. How had she got so close so quickly? Was it simply because of the intimate moments they’d shared, the secrets they’d spoken of?
It was much more than that—for her at least. It was love. She hadn’t ever allowed herself to fall in love, not even with Jason, and without realising it she’d fallen in love with Xavier Moretti as quickly as the snow had fallen from the grey sky. The worst man possible to love.
He wasn’t like the boy she’d grown up with who had suddenly wanted more from life than she could give. This was a man who thrived on his playboy reputation, who was probably even now planning his next meaningless affair.
He didn’t love her. She had to remember that as they left this place. For him it had been nothing more than an opportune affair, just as it should have been for her.
No matter how her heart broke at the prospect, she was determined to say goodbye in a cool and dignified way. She couldn’t risk him knowing how she felt, not when he would merely dismiss that love as nothing. She would walk away from this with her head held high.
* * *
Xavier put their cases into the back of the four-wheel drive his friend had organised, thankful that they would at least be heading back to London before the end of the day. He didn’t think he could spend another night here and not go to Tilly.
He glanced at her as she got into the back and wondered how she really felt. The driver sat solemnly waiting as he climbed up into the back beside her. There wouldn’t be any chance of talk now. Not real talk. He’d never know if it had been simply lust-filled passion or something more that had filled their nights.
Her cold acceptance and obvious relief at being rescued proved what she’d said as they’d walked in the snow yesterday morning. Their first night together had been wrong, a mistake. So what did that make last night? Another item ticked off her list, one to prove her new-found spontaneity?
He tried to ignore the sizzle from being close to her. Tilly pulled out her phone and sent a text. She looked up at him, as if sensing his scrutiny.
‘Just letting Vanessa know I’m heading back to London. We’ll catch up at her party.’ Her face looked a little pale but she smiled brightly at him, her excitement for her friend showing clearly. Or was it that they were on their way home and she would be free of him?
He looked out at the passing countryside, white and unrecognisable, admitting that whatever strange emotion she’d evoked in him, he wasn’t looking for any kind of commitment. How could he when most nights the accident filled his dreams and the pain remained in his legs as a constant reminder. The last two nights had been dream-free. He stifled a growl of anger. He didn’t deserve the love of a woman when he’d deprived another of the man she loved because of the need to win a race.
Finally the snowy countryside gave way to suburban scenes and he knew there wouldn’t be much longer to endure this feeling of being tortured. He’d say goodbye, make it clear it was exactly that and walk away. Whatever he was beginning to feel for her, she deserved better.
‘Not long now,’ she said, her soft words dragging him from his thoughts. He didn’t recognise the streets they were in and tried not to notice where they were going. He didn’t want to know where she lived.
‘It’s good to be back,’ he lied, hoping the harshness of his words would leave her in no doubt it was over between them. This was his way of protecting them both from the hot passion and tender love they’d shared that could never be repeated.
‘Yes. It is.’ Her soft voice held a hint of regret.
The driver pulled over and before he’d had a chance to stop himself he looked out at the street they were in. Damn. He didn’t want to see its name, didn’t want it imprinted on his mind so he could imagine her here. He wanted it to remain just an anonymous London street. He needed to keep her for ever in the snowy manor, in his memory at least.
‘I’ll walk you to your door.’ He was out of the vehicle before she could argue and as he pulled her case out she joined him.
‘There’s no need Xavier, please.’ The defiant lift of her chin reminded him of the first time he’d wanted to kiss her.
The firmness of her words also held a warning. She didn’t want to prolong them being together at all, or for him to know exactly where she lived.
‘Va bene. Then I say goodbye and thank you.’
‘Thank you?’ Her soft lips parted, unwittingly inviting his kiss, and he clenched his hands tightly against the need to take that kiss.
‘It was a very memorable New Year’s Eve, despite the circumstances that forced us together.’ He knew he sounded brisk and indifferent, he could see the shock in her eyes, but he was reminding himself he couldn’t have more.
‘We’re back in London now and our time at the manor stays there. Remember?’ There was a slight wobble to her voice and a question in her eyes. He fought hard against the urge to tell her that he wanted more, if only guilt would set him free, but he couldn’t tell her. She’d calmly told him he was nothing more than a tick on her list. A fling to get over the man who’d broken her heart.
‘Sì, cara. I remember. Arrivederci, Natalie.’ Pride kept him from saying anything—and fear of rejection.
* * *
‘Goodbye, Signor Moretti.’ Tilly’s legs were weak as she stood there, looking into the handsome face of the man she loved. She wanted to tell him not to go, tell him something special had started, something they shouldn’t let go of,