anything else impossible. He didn’t deserve happiness after what he’d done.
‘I forgot some files,’ she said lightly, and reached to pull her keys from the pocket of the coat she’d laid over the back of a kitchen chair. ‘I’ll fetch them now.’
He watched her walk to the back door, her boot heels tapping a gentle rhythm on the tiled floor. The sway of her hips mesmerised him as if he were a teenager who’d just discovered the delights of women. He shook the haze of desire away and went to the back door to assess the weather.
He hoped it would stop snowing soon, aware his family would be convinced he’d purposely hired such a remote venue in the hope it would snow, releasing him from entering into the spirit of the season for yet another year. If he was honest with himself, escaping such gatherings was why he’d remained in England, extending his scholarship programme instead of going back to Milan and concentrating on his motorbike factory.
Tilly turned and smiled, her eyes sparkling. ‘It’s a shame the snow has stopped. I was hoping to see the countryside covered in a white blanket.’
He looked up at the heavy grey clouds that held the promise of more snow. ‘You may yet get your wish.’ He would then escape the torture of celebrating New Year’s Eve, of pretending everything was normal, when it never would be again.
‘Do you think so? It’s not forecast,’ she said, as she unlocked her van and lifted out a red file, the innocent excitement in her voice made him laugh gently. ‘I haven’t seen real snow for so long, only icing-sugar dustings. There was nothing when I left London.’
‘I grew up in the hills of northern Italy, where snow is a regular feature of winter. I think we will see more snow today, the sky is heavy with it.’ If they had been in his home in Italy, they would most certainly be snowbound, a thought that served only to heighten his awareness of her.
‘That would be fun, but only after your guests have arrived.’ She laughed lightly as she reached into her van again. He gritted his teeth—hard, catching a glimpse of creamy flesh as her jumper rose up. He really must stop thinking of her like this. Just when he’d thought he couldn’t take any more she straightened and arranged the files in her arms, but didn’t seem able to meet his gaze. Did she feel it too? This sizzle of attraction? Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?
‘I have work to do and I’m sure you do too.’ If he didn’t remove himself from her company, he might be tempted to breach the boundaries of professionalism before she’d been here for more than an hour. The urge to take her in his arms and kiss her was completely overwhelming and something he hadn’t thought of with any of his recent dates. ‘I will show you the dining room and lounge first.’
Feeling like an ill-tempered bear who had been woken from his winter sleep, he stalked back into the house, aware Tilly was following. His footsteps sounded fierce on the tiled floor as he made his way to the main hall and staircase. Her gasp of pleasure drew him up sharply as he reached the stairs and he turned to look at her, pressing his lips firmly together in discontent as she looked around the large hallway, which showcased the Christmas tree he’d expressly asked to be removed before his guests arrived. Its decorated branches were yet another reminder of what he no longer deserved.
‘This is so beautiful.’ Clutching her files against her, she walked slowly towards the bottom of the wide staircase, where he stood. She stopped and looked around her at the magnificence of the main entrance of the manor. ‘And this tree, it’s just gorgeous. I always wanted a tree like this when I was young. Something grand and tall, but of course it never happened.’
The laughter in her voice held a hint of sadness and abruptly she stopped talking. Had his reaction to the mention of Christmas been that severe?
‘Yes, the tree.’ He gritted his teeth again, feeling even more like a grumpy bear, trying to ignore the longing in her voice. ‘I did ask for it to be taken down before I arrived.’
‘Take it down. Why? It’s Christmas.’ The shock in her voice was crystal clear but, then, she didn’t understand that he no longer indulged in sentiments like that.
‘It was Christmas.’ The words were growled out as he pushed back emotions he still couldn’t deal with. How could anyone come to terms with the knowledge that they’d caused an accident that had taken the life of a friend? His recklessness that day on the track had wrecked one family’s Christmas for ever, depriving young children of their father.
She shook her head. Fast little shakes that made her hair move and glisten like gold beneath the hall lights. ‘Christmas hasn’t finished yet and you are celebrating New Year here.’
‘I’m entertaining my family. Nothing more.’ He didn’t want to take this any further and turned towards the dining room, leaving her little choice but to follow. She’d only been here a short time and already she was disturbing the inner peace he’d thought he was finally beginning to achieve, threatening to open up wounds that had only just started to heal.
‘This is where I will entertain my guests this evening.’ He stood back as she entered the large and stately room, the long table capable of seating at least ten people taking centre stage.
She stood quietly next to him but he could tell she was desperate to walk around the room, touch the old furnishings and feel the ambiance of the place. He stifled a smile as she took out her notepad and pen, using the cover of efficiency to hide that fact.
‘It’s a very big table. How would you like it set for this evening’s dinner? At one end, perhaps closest to the fireplace?’ She looked up at him and he felt as if he’d been caught out as his study of her had been blatant. For a moment her eyes searched his, questions lingering in hers, and a flush of heat coloured her cheeks, something he found quite endearing.
‘Sì, by the fire is good.’ He moved away from her and the temptation she represented, but he couldn’t stop watching her.
As she wrote down notes, he enjoyed the way her hand moved fluidly across the page. With her head bent, her blonde hair slid off her shoulder, forming a curtain of gold. He itched to reach out and push it back, wanting to see the concentration on her face, to feel it with the stroke of his hand across her skin.
She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes locking with his, and questions surfaced once again in the summer sky blue of hers. ‘And the champagne? Perhaps here would be best?’ She moved further away from him and he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d held onto. He had to stop this.
Her footsteps were muffled on the carpet as he watched her walk towards the ornate sideboard, stopping to make further notes. Then she moved to the tall windows, her air of professionalism momentarily forgotten as an almost childlike joy shone from her. ‘It’s snowing again.’
Thankful for the distraction, he crossed the room to join her. As he stood behind her he realised just how small and delicate she was and a powerful urge to protect her washed over him.
He looked down at her at the exact moment she turned to look up at him. The warm blue of her eyes, which instantly reminded him of the Mediterranean Sea, drew him closer to her. He could smell her perfume, dusky roses, as it weaved around him, invading every part of him. The urge to lower his head and feel her full lips against his was so strong that he could actually taste her.
‘I had better get started.’ She ducked away from him, leaving him looking out at the view. What had just happened? He’d nearly lost control, nearly allowed himself to imagine things that were no longer possible. He hadn’t been the same man after
