number that had no place in her life. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she’d bought it. Glamour and sophistication weren’t in her genetic make-up.
She fastened the straps of her sandals, also part of her impulse buy, and with once last check in the mirror left her room. The walk back downstairs became more infused with anticipation each step she took.
What was the matter with her? She wasn’t going on a date. He wasn’t even her bucket list romantic fling. She was only joining him for dinner because the situation with the weather had left them alone here on New Year’s Eve.
What could be so wrong about that?
As she paused at the bottom of the stairs, absently taking in the Christmas tree, she had the strangest notion that going into the room where Xavier waited and spending the evening with him would change everything. How could a snowstorm and a dinner do that?
* * *
Primal stirrings of longing rushed through Xavier as he waited for Tilly—or Natalie, as he’d come to think of her. He enjoyed using her full name. But it was more than that. Something had burst to life between them since the moment he’d first seen her, standing in the snowy courtyard. Whatever that was, it had drawn him, lured him with the promise of things he wanted but knew he couldn’t have, and not just because she was hiding behind her job. He didn’t deserve such things.
He took a deep steadying breath and looked into the flames of the log fire he’d lit before changing. Natalie was different. She was the kind of woman who made a man instinctively want to offer protection. She evoked a need to cherish and love.
As that last thought drifted unbidden through his mind the door opened and she walked in, her cool demeanour so sophisticated he couldn’t believe she was the same bubbly person who’d arrived this morning. She looked absolutely stunning. The black silk of her dress caressed every curve of her body, but she was swathed in an aura that made her almost untouchable. Was that her defence against the attraction he knew she too felt?
‘Cosi bella.’ The Italian compliment left his lips before he’d realised he’d spoken, but it was the truth. She was beautiful.
The black silk of her dress emphasised her stunning figure and his gaze lingered on her bare shoulders, imagining what it would be like to press his lips against the creamy softness of her skin. She blushed beneath his scrutiny and looked away, confirming his suspicion of defensive barriers against the steadily growing attraction.
‘The fire looks inviting.’ She was obviously intent on taking his attention away from her and maybe that was for the best, but a hint of huskiness lingered in her voice, belying the composure she displayed. ‘I’ve always loved the idea of a real fire.’
‘Have you never spent an evening in front of the warmth of the flames with someone special?’ He reached for the bottle of champagne he’d put to cool and hoped the cold liquid would douse the heat burning within him as the image of the two of them doing just that came unbidden to his mind.
He popped the cork and she gave a startled little gasp, her eyes meeting his as she blushed. ‘No, I haven’t. Unless you count being in country pubs with friends.’
He handed her a flute of champagne, trying to beat down the irrational jealousy that filled him, thinking of her sitting in a cosy pub with another man. ‘And now you are forced to endure my company for the evening.’
‘Endure is a bit strong,’ she said quickly, as her slender fingers held the stem of the flute, her gaze meeting his boldly. ‘Enjoy is a far better word.’
He chinked his flute against hers. ‘Salute! To enjoyment.’
‘To enjoyment,’ she echoed his toast, a small and incredibly sexy smile playing about her lips. ‘And I’m sorry your plans for this evening, have gone wrong.’
‘I very much like the alternative.’ He raised his glass slightly in a silent toast to those changed plans. Her eyes darted from his, breaking the contact.
She laughed. A soft, seductive laugh that didn’t diffuse the tension, as he suspected she’d wanted it to. Instead it grew stronger, more intense. She moved away from him, away from the cream stone fireplace that must have seen many such moments over the generations.
‘You might want to reserve judgement, or even call off the whole evening. You wouldn’t be the first to do that.’ With the light-hearted warning lingering in the air, Tilly put down her flute of champagne and now that distance between them had been reinstated seemed content to make eye contact. ‘If you will excuse me for a moment, I will organise the first course.’
His first instinct was to offer to help, but after the potent exchange, loaded with pent-up passion, he needed space. If he closed his eyes, even for just a moment, he could imagine all this was real, that they were here out of choice. That not only did she want to spend the night in his bed, that he wouldn’t have to worry about the scars that had made casual nights of passion impossible since the accident.
He snapped his eyes open. Imagining such things was impossible. They could never be anything to each other—not yet at least.
* * *
Tilly returned to the lounge to see Xavier standing rigidly before the fire, his face a stern mask of irritation. Was that because he’d forgotten himself just now and flirted with her? Did he already regret offering to celebrate New Year’s Eve together?
‘Would you like to come through to the dining room?’ She injected as much professionalism as she could into those words, reminding herself that, no matter what had happened between them just now, she was still working—for him.
‘Bene.’ The word was a soft growl, an almost feral sound and his expression one of agitation, as he crossed the room.
She turned and walked towards the dining room, forgetting the daringly low cut of the back of her dress as she cursed the heels she’d once thought would be fun to wear. Now she knew her walk was slow and hoped he didn’t think she was flaunting herself in front of him. She couldn’t get to her chair fast enough.
‘Allow me.’ The hard tone of his voice spoke volumes about his annoyance at having to dine alone with her.
She must have imagined the undercurrent of sexual tension that had surrounded them after she’d arrived in the lounge. Maybe it was because she wanted this dark and dangerous attraction to him to become reality. As if putting on the dress, being here in this house with Xavier, was giving her a chance to be someone different, step away from her past and sample a world of complete fantasy for just one night.
A reckless thought raced through her mind about the romantic fling on her bucket list. Could this be the night? When she proved to herself she’d moved on from her almost wedding day? Denial careered into that wayward thought, stopping it abruptly.
She sat on her chair as he stood behind it for a moment longer. A tingle skipped down her spine and it was all she could do not to arch her back as the sensation speared warmth through her. It was as if he’d touched her, trailed his fingers down over her bare skin.
‘Thank you.’ She forced out the words and sat back against the chair, trying to stop the way her heart raced, its thumping rhythm so loud he must hear it.
‘Prego.’
Moments later Xavier sat opposite her at the festively decorated table. Candles glowed intimately and the pasta starter cooled as their gazes locked once more. What was happening to her? This new and overwhelming pull of attraction and heart-pounding desire was taking over.
He is your client. The words shouted inside her head.
‘I apologise for changing the menu a second time.’ Once she’d realised they would be eating alone she’d adapted the menu choices. Now she wished she hadn’t. Time away from his dark and powerful eyes was just what she needed—if she was to retain her usual composure.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, not saying a word, and she resisted the temptation to bite her bottom lip,