Snowkissed: Christmas Kisses with Her Boss / Proposal at the Winter Ball / The Prince's Christmas Vow
mood. Before you do something nuts like lean over and kiss him on the cheek. Or just inhale his woodsy aroma.
‘If it weren’t for you I’d still be under my duvet, ice cream in hand. Instead I’m here. Helping renovate a castle. So I’m really good, and I want to move forward with my life.’
‘Then let’s do exactly that.’ Ethan nodded. ‘Let’s go to dinner.’
‘Huh?’ Confusion flicked her, along with a thread of apprehension at the glint in his eye. ‘Now? You’ve had dinner, remember?’
‘Tomorrow. Pugliano’s. In the next town along.’
‘Pugliano’s? You’re kidding? We’d never get in at such short notice.’
‘Don’t worry about that. We’ll get a table.’
‘But why do you want us to go out for dinner?’ For a scant nanosecond her heart speeded up, made giddy by the idea that it was a date.
‘To celebrate making your appointment official. You’re off trial.’
‘I am?’ A momentary emotion she refused to acknowledge as disappointment that it was not a date twanged. To be succeeded by suspicion. ‘Why?’
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
This was good news, right? The type that should have her cartwheeling around the room. But...
‘I don’t want this job out of pity.’
‘Look at me.’ He met her gaze. ‘Do I look like a man who would appoint someone to an important business role out of pity?’
‘Fair point. No, you don’t. But I think your timing is suspect.’
‘Nope. You’ve proved yourself this past week. You’ve matched my work drive without complaint and with enthusiasm. Tonight you went beyond the call of duty with Rafael and now you’ve told me the truth. No pity involved. So... Dinner?’
‘Dinner.’
Try as she might the idea sizzled—right alongside his touch. His hand still covered hers and she wanted more.
As if realisation hit him at the same instant he released his grip and stepped backwards. ‘It will be good for you as well. To see how Pugliano’s works.’
‘Good...how?’ Hurt flickered across her chest. ‘I’ve researched all your places. I’ve talked to your restaurant managers in Spain and France and New York. Plus I know how a top-notch restaurant works already.’
‘Sure—but as a manager, not as a guest.’ He raised a hand. ‘I know your engagement to Hugh was filled with social occasions in glitzy places, but you said it yourself you didn’t enjoy them and now I get why. I want you to see it from the point of view of a guest. Experience it from that side of the table.’
Despite all her endeavour, the bit of her that persisted in believing the date scenario pointed out that she would positively revel in the experience alongside Ethan.
The thought unleashed a flutter of apprehension.
Chill, Ruby. And think this through.
This was not a date, and actually... ‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea. What if it reactivates the media hype? What if people think that I’m moving in on you, shovel in hand, kitted out in my gold-prospecting ensemble?’
His broad shoulders shrugged with an indifference she could only envy. ‘Does it matter what people think?’
‘It does if it starts up a media storm.’
‘We can weather the storm. This is a business dinner, not a date, and I don’t have a problem going public with that.’
‘Well, I do. I can picture it—sitting there being stared at, whispered about...the salacious glances...’
‘But once they see two people clearly in the process of having a business dinner they will lose interest and stop gawping.’
‘What about the negative publicity viewpoint?’
‘You are my restaurant manager. You do your job and I will deal with any negative publicity. I stand by my employees. Look, I get that it will be hard, but if you want to move on you need to face it. I’ll be right there by your side.’
‘I get that it will be hard... You need to face it... I’ll be right there by your side.’
The phrases echoed along the passage of a decade—the self-same words that the younger Ethan Caversham had uttered.
Those grey-blue eyes had held her mesmerised and his voice, his sheer presence, had held her panic attacks at bay. It had been Ethan who had made her leave the hostel, who had built her confidence so she could walk the streets again, only this time with more assurance, with a poise engendered by the self-defence classes he’d enrolled her in.
Yes—for weeks he’d been by her side. Then he’d gone. One overstep on her part, one outburst on his, and he’d gone. Left her. Moved out and away, leaving no forwarding address.
Ruby met his gaze, hooded now, and wondered if he had travelled the same memory route. She reminded herself that now it was different—she was different. No way would she open herself to that hurt again—that particular door was permanently closed and armour-plated.
So Ethan was right—to move forward she needed to put herself out there.
‘Let’s do this.’
ETHAN RESISTED THE urge to loosen his collar as he waited in front of the limo outside the castle’s grand entrance. This strange fizz of anticipation in his gut was not acceptable—not something he’d experienced before, and not something he wanted to experience again.
Fact One: this was not a date. A whoosh of irritation escaped his lips that he needed a reminder of the obvious. The word date was not in Ethan Caversham’s dictionary.
Fact Two: Ruby was an employee and this was a business dinner, to give her a guest’s viewpoint and to show her—an employee—his appreciation of a job well done. Perhaps if he stressed the word employee enough his body and mind would grasp the concept...
Fact Three: yes, they had a shared past—but that past consisted of a brief snapshot in time, and that tiny percentage of time was not relevant to the present.
So... Those were the facts and now he was sorted. De-fizzed. Ethan Caversham was back in control.
A minute later the front door opened and every bit of his control was blown sky-high, splattering him with the smithereens of perspective. Moisture sheened his neck as he slammed his hands into his pockets and forced himself not to rock back on his heels.
Ruby looked sensational, and all his senses reeled in response. Her glorious dark hair tumbled loose in glossy ripples over the creamy bare skin of her shoulders. The black lacy bodice of her dress tantalised his vision. A wide black band emphasised the slender curve of her waist and the dress was ruched into a fun, flirty skirt that showcased the length of her legs.
But what robbed his lungs of breath was the expression on her face and the very slight question in her sapphire eyes. That hint of masked vulnerability smote him with a direct jab to the chest.
‘You look stunning.’
‘Thank you.’ Her chin angled in defiance. ‘I decided that if people are going to stare I’d better scrub up.’
‘You scrub up well.’
With a gargantuan effort he kept his tone light, pushed away the urge to pull her into his arms and show her how well, to try to soothe the apprehension that pulsed from her.