New Year at the Boss's Bidding Read online

  Before he had time to process those thoughts properly she left the room, carrying things back to the kitchen. He picked up other items from the table and strode through to the kitchen where the bright lights subdued what had arced between them—and highlighted reality.

  ‘I have a few things to do then I will bring dessert through to the lounge.’ She turned and looked at him, the wariness in her eyes halting him in his tracks. She was warning him without words to keep away, telling him she didn’t want to pursue the attraction, and after what she’d just told him he’d be heartless to force her. She was still in love with another man, even though her body called to his. But ignoring her was proving difficult.

  ‘Allow me to help.’

  ‘No.’ The shock in that word startled him, and he looked at her in question. ‘No, thank you. This is my job, Signor Moretti, I’m not here to be wined and dined. I’m paid to be here—working.’

  She was either putting them both firmly in their places or laying down an even bigger challenge. His pulse leapt at the thought, but he knew, deep down, it wasn’t that. She was right. Her brief story about last New Year’s Eve only confirmed she wanted more than a night of passion and an expensive parting gift. She wasn’t the kind of woman who sought such nights, she never would be. He couldn’t give a woman like Tilly what she wanted.

  ‘Very well,’ he said firmly. ‘But I expect you to join me in the lounge. I have no intention of welcoming in the New Year alone.’

  ‘But...’ She searched for more excuses.

  ‘You will join me,’ he said sternly, and she looked up at him and the expression on her face soothed his ruffled demeanour. She looked vulnerable and so very beautiful. ‘For just one glass of champagne. To toast in the New Year.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TILLY’S HEART RATE HAD barely slowed after Xavier had left the kitchen. Unable to do anything for a while, she had just stood looking out of the window, watching the large snowflakes drift past, so white against the darkness of the night.

  For the last hour she’d kept reminding herself she was working for Signor Moretti, as she tried hard to think of him. Anything to stay on a professional level, because talking about Jason and last New Year’s Eve with him had allowed things to slip into something more intimate.

  After what had just happened, her body hummed spectacularly with desire, in a way she’d never known, one unacceptable in every way. She’d tried to avoid spending further time with him, not liking his probing questions about last year. She had reminded him she was working for him, but it hadn’t cooled the heat in his eyes. She was going to have to be on her guard. She had no intention of breaking her rules and certainly not of becoming just another woman to him.

  She stood on the threshold of the lounge, not daring to push open the door and walk in, sensing that doing so would change her—for ever. The clock in the hall struck the half-hour. Half past eleven. Very soon it would be midnight and her contract would end. She should be leaving, but fate had other ideas and she wasn’t sure she could hide behind her mask of professionalism—or that she even wanted to.

  As the chimes fell silent she pushed open the dark wooden door, feeling the warmth of the fire meet her. Her hands were shaking and she paused, looking at Xavier, the sense that everything would be different after tonight becoming greater.

  ‘Infine.’ The soft Italian word and the hint of amusement in it caressed her senses as she walked into the room, trying to leave her insecurities outside. She didn’t want him to know just how these last few hours had already affected her.

  The image of Xavier standing close to the open fire, his tall and toned body commanding her attention, was almost too much. The formal black suit only added to his sex appeal and she made an effort to drag her gaze from him. She had to stop looking at him so wantonly. She looked instead at the many paintings hanging around the room, but that didn’t stop her wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms or kissed by his lips. She seriously doubted if anything could, now the sizzle of attraction filled the very air she breathed.

  ‘Yes, finally,’ she translated with a smile, inwardly berating herself. She needed to do something to remind both of them exactly what her position here tonight was. Hired help. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting, but I had some work to do.’

  ‘Come.’ He gestured to the sofa in front of the fire, a smile playing about his lips suggesting he knew she’d been hiding in the kitchen. Or was that her guilty conscience for having done exactly that? ‘It is almost midnight. Join me for a glass of champagne.’

  His dark eyes sparked with something she didn’t want to recognise as she walked to the sofa and sat demurely in front of the fire, the soft warmth of the fabric offering some protection from his devouring looks. She took the glass of champagne he handed her, knowing she shouldn’t drink any more after the wine she’d enjoyed with the meal.

  With devilment lingering in his smile, he resumed his position by the fire and raised his glass to her, then sipped at the bubbly liquid. She did the same, tasting the delicious golden bubbles, enjoying the sensation of being spoilt.

  ‘This is not what I had expected for this evening,’ she said as she held her glass, determined not to indulge in too much of this luxury, or get carried away by it. ‘I don’t suppose it was for you either. I’m sorry your family couldn’t get here, that you have to make do with me.’

  ‘That is not such a hardship.’ His deep and accented voice tempted her to look directly into those dark, mesmerising eyes. ‘I am pleased you are here. It would have been a very quiet New Year all alone.’

  His gentle laugh, so seductive, unleashed a tremor of pleasure through her. He was making it sound as if he genuinely wanted to be here with her tonight. That he wasn’t at all put out he would be sharing his New Year celebrations with his caterer.

  She took a sip of champagne, trying to remember he was a playboy with a big reputation and she was very different from the kind of women he dated. She didn’t have a sophisticated bone in her body. She was just being fanciful, filling her head with romantic notions that had no hope of fulfilment.

  What she should be doing was relaxing and enjoying the evening for what it was—a brief interlude in her life. The chance to sample a lifestyle she only saw from the other side, one night in a world of complete fantasy with this sexy Italian, a world where Tilly Rogers didn’t exist, just Natalie.

  The temptation to fulfil the romantic fling she’d added to her bucket list intensified. Hastily she pushed that thought aside. If she did have that fling, it wouldn’t be with a man who had no other choice but her. It would have to be with a man who truly desired her—for that night at least.

  ‘I appreciate your invitation,’ she said, boldly holding his gaze, trying not to read too much into the intensity there. ‘It’s a change to be able to sit and enjoy the food and wine—and wear this.’

  She’d added a touch of humour, trying to lighten the mood, but judging by the smouldering look in his eyes had failed completely. All she’d done had been to draw his attention to her.

  ‘You look very beautiful this evening.’ His words were soft and caressing, but she didn’t miss the fierceness deep within them. ‘Molto bella.’

  She looked away into the orange flicker of the flames, feeling herself blush again. Did he have to keep slipping into delicious and seductive Italian? ‘Thank you, but I don’t think the lady in your life would be very impressed to hear you say that.’

  To her surprise he laughed and she looked at him again, irritated to be the focus of his amusement. He walked to a small table, picked the champagne bottle from its bucket of iced water, refilled both crystal flutes and then sat at the other end of the sofa.

  ‘There isn’t a woman in my life.’

  ‘But I thought...’ she began, then stopped. Images she’d seen on the internet of the beautiful brunet
te who’d accompanied him to a party were still clear in her mind. Then she remembered his reputation. He was not a man to settle down.

  He stretched out his long legs and relaxed back into the corner of the sofa, one arm draped along the back, his hand unnervingly close to her. ‘You thought I was in a relationship?’

  ‘Well, yes, actually I did.’ She couldn’t keep the flustered tone from her voice, unable to decide if it was the topic of conversation or the fact that she could feel her bare back burning because his hand was close as it rested on the cushions behind her. And his legs, long and strong, stretched out towards her, all but trapping her.

  ‘After ending a long-term relationship, I prefer to remain uncommitted.’ His message was clear. He only looked for brief affairs, just as his reputation had suggested. Even more reason not to get charmed into something she would regret.

  ‘I see,’ she said quietly, and looked down into her glass, watching the bubbles rising to the surface then disappearing, wondering if she really would regret a kiss from this man.

  His sudden movement as he leant forward nearly made her spill her champagne and she drew in a sharp breath, but as her eyes met with the darkness in his, her pulse leapt. ‘I’m sure that after last year you feel the same too.’

  ‘If by that you mean I have had a string of meaningless love affairs, you are very much mistaken. I am not that sort of woman.’ Indignation rushed over her as words of defence hurtled from her. What would his reaction be if she told him she was a virgin?

  Confusion muddled her as her earlier thoughts of having a fling with him burned shamelessly in her mind. She wanted to jump up, leave the room, but something kept her there. Something she didn’t want to accept kept her there with Xavier, sharing a moment she knew would never have happened if events hadn’t conspired against them, cutting them off from the real world.

  ‘I know,’ he said softly, his increasingly black eyes looking into hers, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine. ‘That is why I didn’t give in to the temptation to kiss you, even though you wanted me to.’

  ‘You arrogant...’ The contents of her flute spilt onto her dress as she jumped up to get away from this self-assured man, unbalancing in an attempt to avoid his legs. Instinctively she reached out to save herself, only to find his arms around her, pulling her against the firmness of his body as he leapt to his feet.

  ‘You were saying?’ The humour in his voice fuelled the furious fire that raged inside her. It wasn’t just fury at his assumption that he could have kissed her, it was anger at herself. He must have known, as they’d stood looking out at the snowy landscape this morning, that she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  She glared up at him, her breathing deep and hard as he held her against him, the thin silk of her dress little protection from the heat of his body. She could feel the strength of his arms as they held her. Her heart thumped so hard she was sure he’d not only hear it but feel it too.

  ‘Your charm and flirtatious manner might work with other women, but it will not work with me.’ She should push him away, prove the point, but she couldn’t. Her body was acting against her mind, seeking what it wanted, not what was best.

  ‘Because you are still in love with the man you should have married?’ His eyes narrowed as he frowned, but the spark of desire within them couldn’t be concealed.

  ‘Yes,’ she lied. Surely he’d let her go if he thought that. It was the best form of defence, even though now she’d finally realised what she and Jason had shared had been friendship, not love. ‘And because I am here as your caterer, not your latest conquest.’

  * * *

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Xavier looked into Tilly’s blue eyes, seeing them swirl with desire, echoing the hum within his body. Was that possible if she was still in love with another man? Wouldn’t she have pushed him away? She certainly wouldn’t look so sexy and kissable, her lips parting in invitation as she held his gaze. If her heart loved another man her eyes would be blazing with indignation, not desire.

  ‘Well, it’s true,’ she said firmly, finally pushing against him.

  He let her go, resisting the temptation to taste those full lips, but her eyes looked so full of desire, so brimming with passion yet to be tasted, it was almost impossible. She was right about being his hired help and he’d respect that—for now.

  She bent and brushed her hand over the champagne mark on her dress and he knew it was to avoid looking at him, preventing him seeing what had been shining from her eyes. She couldn’t hide that raw passion and desire. It was too late.

  ‘Then why are you here tonight? Why aren’t you with this Jason, telling him how much you love him?’ he taunted mercilessly. He couldn’t help himself. Natalie Rogers was doing untold things to him, forcing a new emotion that felt very much like jealousy to the fore.

  She stood up straight, the worry of her dress abandoned, but her irritation with him clearly not. ‘Need I remind you again? I’m here, working—for you.’

  The feisty tone of her voice brought a smile to his face, which, to his amusement, antagonised her further. ‘More champagne? You cannot toast in the New Year with an empty glass. Midnight is minutes away—as is the end of your contract.’

  For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Her eyes sparked with passion-induced anger and he wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman. The black silk of her dress seemed sculpted over her breasts, which rose and fell with each breath.

  She was beautiful. Perfect.

  She was also a reminder of all he didn’t deserve to have.

  ‘Just one more glass.’ Her husky whisper pulled him back from those thoughts, from the need to punish and deprive himself of happiness or love. He didn’t deserve either, not when one mistake—his mistake—had snatched Paulo’s life and with it the happiness of an entire family.

  ‘Grazie,’ he said, his voice rough and rasping as he pushed the demons away, not wanting them tormenting him tonight. He poured the last of the champagne into each flute, feeling her gaze on him. What would she think of him if she knew the truth? Would the hot sizzle of desire she couldn’t quite conceal still radiate from her? Or would she be like Carlotta? Cold and disgusted?

  ‘Thank you.’ She took the flute of champagne from him but couldn’t meet his gaze, her long dark lashes lowering over her eyes, locking him out.

  He strode over to the fire, placed his champagne on the mantelpiece and tossed another log onto the fire, stoking the flames, making them leap, matching the way his desire for her had burst into life from the thought of just one kiss.

  ‘You must be regretting taking this contract.’ He spoke firmly as he looked into the fire, its heat matching that which still pumped around his body.

  ‘I took the job because I didn’t want to be forced to party and celebrate—or remember.’ Her voice was unwavering, the husky whisper of moments ago gone, replaced by total strength.

  ‘He is a fool.’ He growled the words out and turned to look at her. ‘To throw away a woman like you.’

  ‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ she said, and moved towards him, drawn by the warmth of the fire. The clock in the hall chimed, marking the last fifteen minutes of the year, and she looked up at him. ‘We’d been together since school and I suppose we drifted into wedding plans, not wanting to disappoint our families. It was always expected we’d marry.’

  The resigned tone of her voice, the acceptance of what she’d just said didn’t fit with her earlier declarations of love for the man who’d left her. ‘Yet you love him still?’

  ‘Yes.’ She looked down at her glass before taking a sip. ‘He was my childhood sweetheart. I will always love him.’

  ‘You should not waste your love on a man who walked away from you.’ Involuntarily he took a step towards her, the connection between them strengthening. They both knew the pain of rejection, but it had bee
n he who’d pushed Carlotta from his life after she’d all but rejected him.

  ‘And do you speak from experience, Signor Moretti?’

  The use of his surname shocked him momentarily, but he knew what she was trying to do. As the minutes ticked away the year and the spark of attraction increased, she wanted to instil propriety into the moment, remind him—and herself—of why they were here like this at all.

  ‘I was involved in a racing accident that left me badly hurt and no longer the kind of company a glamorous model keeps. I couldn’t offer Carlotta the luxurious lifestyle she craved any longer.’ He wanted to tell her more, tell her he knew what it felt like to be rejected, but those words failed him. ‘When I told her we were over she simply walked away and into the arms of another man.’

  The soft gasp of shock that came from her lips made guilt rush through him and he turned away from her, looking again into the flames. He sensed her next to him before he felt her hand on his arm.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered softly.

  What was she sorry for? His failed relationship, the accident, or forcing him to remember? ‘It was for the best.’ He snapped the words out, hoping to kill the conversation.

  ‘When did it happen? The accident, I mean.’ The tentative question nudged the memories back a little as her husky voice began to stir his desire again.

  ‘Summer. Three years ago.’ He looked into her eyes, saw the blue darken until they looked like a midnight sky. He was beginning to drown, pulled by an unknown force towards something he knew he shouldn’t sample, let alone have.

  ‘You sent her away because you were in hospital?’ Incredulity poured from her, but he wondered what she would have done, faced with his rage and furious need to lash out. Would she have flinched, her face unable to hide her disgust when she saw his injuries for the first time? Would she have stayed around him as his mood had blackened and his guilt deepened?