Читать книгу A Kiss At Midnight - Kate Hardy - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTILLY’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 brunette 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 been 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?
‘I was not the man she’d met, and couldn’t offer the globetrotting life she sought. So I ended it.’ The words sounded like a snarl as he slipped back in time, seeing again the moment that once lovely face had screwed up in selfish pity. ‘Grazie a Dio! It was for the best.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ The gentle concern in Tilly’s eyes was almost too much. He was glad Carlotta had revealed her true self to him. It was just sad that it had taken such an accident to show him the kind of woman she was.
‘When should you have married?’ He needed to deflect attention from himself, prevent the horror of those months coming out into the open and infesting his dreams as they always did when he thought too much.
‘An hour after Jason told me the engagement was off.’
* * *
Tilly clenched her teeth, biting back the tears. She couldn’t let them fall now. Not here. Not in front of this man. She’d thought she was over Jason, over the way he’d called everything off so suddenly.
‘Dio mio.’
The expletive was hotly followed by rapid Italian words she couldn’t understand and her need to give to tears was swamped by the urge to laugh—in a way she hadn’t done for months. How could she talk about it to Xavier and even find it funny? It was this place and being marooned from reality.
Exactly a year ago she should have married the man she’d believed to be her Mr Right. He’d been safe, comfortable, someone she’d grown up with, then he’d catapulted her into a new life, telling her she should live for the moment, as he’d done. Was that what she was fighting against now? A moment with an Italian playboy who set her pulse racing?
Xavier stepped close to her and reached out his hand, stroking the backs of his fingers across her cheek. The air cracked with tension as she continued to resist giving in to the temptation of a kiss. Seconds slowed to minutes as he moved closer still. So close she could smell his fresh masculine scent, taste it on her tongue.
She ached to be kissed by him, to feel his lips against hers.
From the hallway the old grandfather clock sounded the first strike of midnight. It chimed through the charged air and the small clock on the mantelpiece echoed it, ending the year and her contract.
‘Midnight,’ she whispered softly, unable to do anything else, the atmosphere was so laden and intense. His gaze fell to her lips and every breath she dragged in seemed to burn.
The chimes continued, showing out the old year and ringing in the new. Everything became hazy, except Xavier’s handsome face. Had the world stopped turning?
‘Buon Anno Nuovo.’ His sensually deep voice sent ripples of tingling awareness all over her.
‘Happy New Year.’ Her soft barely-there whisper was almost drowned out by the thudding of her heart and the last stroke of midnight. She had to go right now. She wasn’t ready for this. Before he could do anything to stop her, she left the room, carelessly putting her glass down as she passed a table.
‘Natalie.’
He called after her, but she didn’t stop until she was next to the Christmas tree he’d wanted banished from the house. Then she sensed him behind her and turned.
‘Don’t run from me, Natalie, not tonight.’
She looked at him, unable to decide if the undercurrent of vulnerability she heard in his voice was real. ‘I have to go.’
‘Stay.’
Was she really afraid to celebrate the New Year with a kiss or was she running because she wanted to be kissed? Would she regret it if she left now? Her heart thudded harder than ever as she looked at him. Her mouth felt dry, as if not a single drop of champagne had passed her lips.
‘No. I can’t.’
He didn’t say anything but moved towards her, the intensity of moments ago still surrounding them. She couldn’t take her eyes from his face and could hardly breathe as he moved closer.
His fingers brushed her cheek briefly before sliding into her thick hair and holding her firmly. Slowly he lowered his head, stopping before she could feel his lips on hers, and she looked into his eyes. Fireworks of passion exploded in them and beyond that display she saw something that made her want him more.
‘Happy New Year, Natalie.’ The deep tones of his voice sent sparks of heat around her body.
She swallowed hard, almost unable to form a single word as she responded instinctively in Italian. ‘Buon Anno Nuovo, Xavier.’
What was she doing? As his lips almost touched hers, she pulled back, but his hand in her hair held her. ‘Your contract is over, Natalie, and you can’t deny there is something between us tonight.’
Was he giving her permission to kiss him, to give in to the desire that thudded in her veins? His lips met hers, brushing so tenderly over them that a soft sigh escaped her. The kiss became harder, more demanding and she couldn’t help herself.
She fought hard to keep her eyes open but it was all she could do to stop her lashes lowering. His lips tasted hers and she resisted the temptation to press herself against him, hot need rushing through her. This was just a New Year’s kiss. Nothing more.
His fingers curled tightly in her hair, keeping her lips just where she really wanted them—beneath his. A small sigh of pleasure sounded in her throat as the kiss intensified, his tongue seeking hers.
She gave herself up to the ecstasy of the moment, her body filled with fiery heat. How could a kiss be so unbelievably hot? His lips trailed down her throat and her whole body trembled. He kissed her bare shoulders as he cupped her breast, the pad of his thumb grazing over her peaked nipple, causing her to drag in a breath of pure pleasure.
He moved against her and through the silk of her dress she could feel the firmness of his body, from the muscular chest to his strong thighs. Unashamedly she moulded herself against him, the hardness of his arousal pressing against her, tormenting her.
As passion threatened to overpower her, take away her last remnants of sanity, he pushed her away. Shock stunned her, freezing her mind and body. All she could hear was the thud of her pulse as her heart raced, but when she looked at him, the expression on his face had turned cold.
What had she done? What had she been thinking? Kissing Xavier Moretti like that?
The fierce look on his face left her in no doubt she’d gone too far, read too much into the flirtatious mood of the evening.
‘That shouldn’t have happened.’ The husky tone of her voice cracked with raw desire that even she could hear. He continued to watch her, displeasure increasingly more evident in his eyes and the firm line of the lips that had just sent her senses into overdrive.
The temptation to turn and run upstairs was immense, but she must never let him know what his kiss had done. The world had stopped turning; everything except him had ceased to exist.
She stepped back, feeling a chill on her skin after the heat of being in front of the fire. Or was it the heat of his kiss? Those dark and wickedly brooding eyes didn’t leave her face for one second, causing her cheeks to glow as a blush crept over them.
‘Goodnight.’ Thankfully firmness brushed aside the husky voice she’d just heard coming from herself. She stepped back again and the further she moved from him the more humiliation rose within her.
‘Buona notte, Natalie.’
Damn him, he wasn’t making this easy for her. He could at least say sorry. But you kissed him back. The traitorous voice in her head mocked her embarrassment and she dragged in a deep breath.
She had to get out of there. Slowly she turned to walk up the stairs, feeling him watching every move she made so intently she could hardly walk. After what seemed like an eternity she reached the first landing.
‘Natalie?’
The sensual way he said her name had her turning to him instinctively, but she refused to go back, refused to be drawn into something neither of them wanted—or needed. She couldn’t respond, couldn’t say one word as their eyes met.
‘Grazie.’
She didn’t wait to find out what he thanking her for or even acknowledge it. She gave him a brief smile before she turned, forgetting her earlier intention and running up the stairs as fast as she could in her high heels. She didn’t dare stop, not until she’d reached the sanctuary of her room.
* * *
Xavier woke as a chill spread over him. The fire, which had burned so hot at midnight, was now nothing more than embers glowing amidst the ash. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about the fire of desire within him.
He should never have kissed her, never have accepted her unspoken invitation to taste those lush lips, because now that he had, he wanted more. With each passing hour he’d been drawn to her with an inevitability that he’d been unable to ignore, despite the guilt that had prevented him from even thinking of kissing a woman in the last three years.
He stood up and pain niggled down his legs, a legacy of the accident and a constant reminder of his guilt. As was Tilly’s insistence that she worked for him, making it plain that, despite the pull of attraction between them, nothing would ever happen.
But something had happened.
She’d kissed him back, responded so hotly he’d wanted her right there and then.
He’d only intended to brush his lips over hers in a celebratory kiss, and he’d almost stopped, sensing that a boundary would be crossed, a boundary she’d firmly set.
As his lips had tasted hers he’d lost his ability to think. The heat of her lips on his still seared him. Kissing her had been all he’d wanted to do; he couldn’t allow things to go further, and not just because she was vulnerable. The only woman to have seen his battered body was Carlotta. As the memories of her revulsion had mixed with his constant guilt, he’d pushed Tilly away.
He’d watched Tilly all but run upstairs and had been unable to process the implications of what had happened. Her door had clicked closed and he had marched away from the ever-mocking Christmas tree, back to the heat of the fire.
Maledizione. He should never have kissed her. She’d tested his control, pushing it almost to the breaking point. He’d forced himself to let her go, to step away from her when every nerve in his body had cried out for the satisfaction of feeling her against him. He’d remained downstairs because he’d known Natalie wasn’t a one-night sort of woman.
He glanced out of the landing windows, out into the night, which was illuminated by the snow, casting an eerie glow. At least it had stopped snowing. With any luck the minor roads leading away from the manor would be clear by tomorrow and she could leave—even if he had to dig through the snow to make a track to the road. She couldn’t stay here, not when she tempted him, making him want things he had no right to want.
As he finally retired to his room he paused at the end of the corridor that led to Tilly’s room. He imagined her asleep in the grand four-poster bed and knew he didn’t want her to be so far away from him, and not just because they were alone in the house.
With another stream of curses muttered under his breath he turned and strode towards his room. Whatever had happened tonight could not be repeated.
