adds that extra little detail when she’s publicising the hotel. You’re here so she can see that you can do the same—that’s why it’s so important that you look right, that you say the right things.’
That she what? Panic churned in her stomach, the snow dazzling as she stared at the ground, her eyes swimming. ‘I’m here to schmooze? You didn’t tell me that!’
‘I didn’t hide it. You know who the invited guests are. Look, Camilla knows I wouldn’t recommend anyone who wasn’t talented and creative. She needs to see that you can mingle with the right people, chat to journalists, help sell her creations. And, Flora, you can.’
‘But I can’t...’ He wanted her to what? Chat to journalists? Sell? Flora gulped in air, rooted to the spot, oblivious to the crowds passing her by.
‘You’ve done it before.’ He didn’t add Many times but the words hung in the air. ‘At least this time you won’t have to baste chickens or pipe icing while you’re talking.’
Flora still couldn’t joke about her childhood spots in front of the camera. To be honest she wasn’t sure she ever would reach that state. ‘Can you imagine what it was like going into school after Dad’s shows aired? Me this tall and this...’ She sketched an arc around her chest. She had been the tallest in her class from nursery onwards—and the most developed from the end of primary school. ‘The last thing I want to do is talk about me, you know that. And if I chat to journalists they’ll know who I am...’
‘And they’ll love it. Youngest daughter of food writer and TV chef, Ted Buckingham and TV doctor Jane Buckingham? They won’t try and catch you out, Flora. We’re talking travel sections, maybe some lifestyle blogs. I promise you. It’ll be a lot less stressful than your dad’s Internet videos of family get-togethers.’
‘Horry says neurosurgery is less stressful than the Internet get-togethers.’
‘All you have to do this week is have fun. Try to ski, chat to people, talk colours and materials and be enthusiastic. If Camilla offers you the commission then you can worry about the other side of it later, but if I were you I’d think about how a little publicity in the right places could send your stock sky-high. Come on, Flora. You never know, you might even enjoy it. Now, Christmas markets or ice skating? Your choice.’
Flora took in a deep shuddering breath. Alex was right, if he’d mentioned any of this before she would have hightailed it back to London before he could say prost. Minerva positively fed off their parents’ fame, using it as a springboard when she opened her PR firm, and Horry was oblivious. Flora, on the other hand, had always found it mortifying, whether appearing on her dad’s cookery programme or listening to her mother talk about Flora’s first period on national TV. She wasn’t sure the scars from that particular episode would ever fade.
Still, silver linings and all that—she hadn’t thought about the kiss or their sleeping arrangements once in the last half-hour. It turned out there were only so many things even she could stress about.
‘I haven’t been ice skating for years.’
‘Indoors or outdoors?’
Flora looked around, at the blue sky, the sun warm despite the chill of the air. ‘Oh, outside, please.’
‘Come on, then, I challenge you to a backwards-skating race. Loser buys the mulled wine.’
THIS WHOLE WEEK was doomed. Alex had known it from the minute he’d got Lola’s email. Camilla Lusso liked to work with people she could show off. Extroverted, larger than life, Lola had fitted the bill perfectly. Flora? Not so much. But she did have the training, after all. It wasn’t as if he had thrown her in unprepared; she’d been brought up with camera crews, journalists and interviewers traipsing through the house, had been expected to converse intelligently at dinner parties and receptions since she’d hit double figures.
Of course, that didn’t mean she enjoyed any of it. Alex knew all too well that if he’d been completely honest with her at the start she’d have run a mile.
Maybe that would have been for the best. No Flora, no kiss, no sleepless night.
Because, try as he might, he just couldn’t shake the memory of the warmth of her mouth, the sweetness of her lips, the way his hands had held her as if she were made just for him, every curve slotting so perfectly against him.
There had been far too many kisses from far more women than Alex cared to remember. Not one had stayed with him, not for a second. This one he could still taste. He had a feeling he would still feel it imprinted on his lips in fifty years’ time.
And it was all he could do not to put his hands on her shoulders, turn her around and kiss her once again. And this time there would be no stepping back. Not ever.
But he couldn’t. She deserved better than him. She needed someone who wasn’t dead inside, someone who could match her sweetness and generous spirit. Sometimes Alex thought that Flora could be the saving of him—but he’d be the damning of her. His father’s last words echoed around his brain yet again.
You taint everything you touch. You were born bad and grew up worse.
And his father was right.
But he wouldn’t taint Flora, never Flora.
‘I haven’t been ice skating in years.’ She worried away at her lower lip as they walked through the twisty streets. ‘Not since we used to go to the ice discos on a Friday night. Not that you did much skating. You were usually in a corner snogging some random girl.’
He had been. A different girl each week. The worse he’d behaved, the more they’d seemed to find him irresistible. He had hated himself every single Friday night as he’d smiled across at yet another hopeful—but it hadn’t stopped him moving in while last week’s conquest had watched from a corner.
Had anything changed? He went in for relationships now, not kisses in a booth by an ice rink, but he didn’t commit as much as a toothbrush to them—and Flora had a point when she said that each of his girlfriends was interchangeable. A warm body to lose himself in, a talisman against the dark.
Could he change that—did he even want to? Or would it be just as lonely with one woman by his side as it was with dozens?
He shook off the thought. ‘It’ll be just like riding a bike—the skating, not the snogging.’ Why had he said that? He was pretty sure that the red in her cheeks had nothing to do with the cold and she ducked her head so that he couldn’t see her expression.
It’ll get easier, he told himself. But he hoped it was soon. He couldn’t imagine being this awkward in front of her parents. He knew Flora thought they favoured him but there was no contest—she was their little girl and if he hurt her they’d take her side. As they should.
It made him aware just how alone he was in the world. Was there anyone who would be on his side no matter what?
There were lots of ice rinks in and around Innsbruck, the prettiest on naturally frozen lakes, but the one Alex had chosen had a charm all of its own. It was a temporary rink right in the centre of town, just a short walk from the bustling Christmas markets. The early afternoon
