looked up at him, seeing not a trace of the man she’d spent the last two days with. ‘I’ll make us some breakfast.’
‘No, I should do that.’ If he made her breakfast after what they’d shared last night, it would be too intimate and too painful.
‘No, you are my guest.’ The insistence in his voice halted her, stemming the flow of anxious words from bubbling up within her. She’d been his guest since midnight on New Year’s Eve and had become just another woman on his long list of conquests, exactly what she hadn’t wanted to be.
Before she could argue further he left and for a moment she just stood staring at where he’d been standing. Inside her something snapped, or fell into place. Either way, things had changed. ‘Do you always make women breakfast?’
‘Never.’ He marched off, his icy comment lingering in the air as if winter had entered the house.
She was just one of many who’d shared his bed, his passion, but never his love. For the last two nights she’d loved him, not just with her body but with her heart. She’d known it was a mistake. He’d slipped beneath the barricades she’d put up around her heart, determined to keep out such emotions. Now he would break her heart, saying goodbye. But he wasn’t her Mr Right, not a womanising man like Xavier Moretti, and she’d do well to remember that.
‘At least let me help.’ From deep within her she drew on strength and courage she hadn’t known she had. He would never know just what he’d unlocked.
He looked at her, raising a brow in that devilishly handsome way, sending her pulse racing. ‘I think I’m capable of making breakfast so, please, sit and relax.’
He glanced at her when she sat at the kitchen table. It all felt too real, too much like normal life and not at all like the nights they had shared. Once again daylight was bringing harsh reality. How could he act as if it hadn’t happened?
‘I know your nonna gave you a love of food and cooking, but what made you set up a business?’ He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, directly into her eyes, his dark ones searching hers. But what for? What was he hoping to find?
She held his gaze boldly. Did he know he’d touched a raw nerve, hit on the one thing she didn’t want to talk about, this morning of all mornings? The last three days had made her look at everything differently, from her need to stay professional to the realisation that she’d never loved Jason, not passionately. She’d also questioned the inability to contact her father’s family, knowing it was because she feared their rejection. They’d done it to her mother, only Nonna having maintained contact.
‘I guess I was looking for a challenge and a bit of spontaneity in my life.’ She used his advice from last night, turned it around and made it fit her explanation, hoping that would be the end of the discussion.
‘As good a reason as any,’ he said, and cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them with obvious ease. Everything seemed so relaxed—apart from her.
‘I’m impressed.’ She couldn’t help but tease him. He really did bring out the lighter side of her, the side that didn’t worry and question everything, not needing to always be in total control. He’d coaxed out her spontaneous side a bit further with each falling snowflake.
‘Then my first mission of the day is complete.’ He put the eggs and toast on the table and sat down, his handsome face holding a hint of mischief. He was enjoying this.
‘And your second mission? Is that to get back to London?’ The questions slipped from her before she thought of any consequences, and judging by the look he cast her way it was exactly what he was hoping for and she hid her desire for things to be different behind bravado. ‘It will be a relief to get back to London.’
‘Have you not enjoyed your time here?’
How could he ask that? Tilly’s heart broke a little as the answer came to mind. Their time together had been nothing more than a fling for him. She’d been a convenient distraction from the situation they’d found themselves in and his obvious dislike of Christmas, which she knew was linked to the accident.
It should have been the same for her. Hadn’t she eventually decided he was her bucket list affair? The one that would help her move on from Jason? Somewhere along the way she’d lost sight of that. Each kiss had touched her heart a little deeper, each touch binding her to him a little bit more. She hadn’t wanted love, hadn’t been seeking it, not after what had happened last year, but it had found her.
She looked 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
