‘I’ll be on the slopes until this afternoon,’ she said, edging past him to the door. ‘And then I might go out with some of the gang this evening. So I won’t be in your way.’ They were talking to one another as though they were strangers and, although she knew that this was to be expected, given the fact that there were no witnesses in the vicinity to make judgement calls on their relationship, she couldn’t help but miss the easy, teasing banter he was so good at whenever they were in public view.
‘That’s not going to work.’ He caught her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.
A sizzle of electricity zapped through her and she froze. She wanted to shut her eyes because he was so clever at reading what was in her head and, right now, what was in her head was I want this man. She licked her lips but her mouth was dry and she couldn’t seem to get any words out.
‘Want to know why?’ Matteo was gazing at her flushed face.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb absently over the softness of her inner wrist.
He could feel it. He could sense a physical response rippling through her, mirroring his.
This was playing with fire. He wasn’t on the lookout for a relationship with anyone and certainly not with a woman who was as soft as meringue, no sharp edges, no defence barriers. Despite her wealthy background, she was so sweetly disingenuous that he would be crazy to go there.
He banked down the tide of images flooding his mind—pictures of her in bed naked, her plump, ripe body opening up for him.
He dropped her hand and sat back. ‘You keep forgetting that we’re supposed to be an item.’
‘I don’t think that Bob and Margaret will be partying at a club.’
‘That’s not the point. I expect glad tidings of our hot and heavy relationship have already reached the ears of most of your fellow clubbers. How’s it going to look if you show up without me?’
‘You could always come.’
‘I’m not big into the club scene.’
Rosie distractedly rubbed her wrist where he had been touching it. ‘Well, if everyone has heard all about us, and I honestly don’t think that’s the case, wouldn’t it be a good idea if we were to do something outdoorsy?’
‘Like gyrating on a dance floor at two in the morning?’ He raised his eyebrows and Rosie shot him a reluctant grin.
‘Everyone’s too tired after being on the slopes all day to stay out until two in the morning. Gyrating.’ Her smile widened. ‘You sound like an old man.’
‘I’m old compared to you,’ Matteo told her irritably. ‘I’m thirty-two. You’re twenty-three. I’ve lived a life of responsibility. You’ve had the pleasure of doing just as you’ve always pleased without fear of consequences.’ He paused, hating himself for wiping the easy smile off her face. ‘It’s what makes you who you are,’ he said roughly. ‘And that’s no bad thing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I happen to like the way you approach life, as though each day is filled with the promise of something new and enjoyable.’
‘It often is.’
‘Is it?’ He shrugged. ‘You could be right but it’s an optimism that usually gets ground into dust by the time reality takes over.’
‘What do you mean by reality?’
‘Work. Responsibility. Life in general.’
Rosie was so tempted to reach out and touch him. There was a vulnerability there and she was sure he wasn’t even aware of it. He’d had a tough life and Lord only knew what sacrifices he had had to make along the way to get where he had.
‘How did you get that scar?’ she asked suddenly, expecting him not to offer a reply. She had done what he seemed constantly to be telling her not to do, namely push past his boundaries to invade his inner sanctum.
‘Fight.’ He smiled at her. ‘I was a teenager at the time. Fights happened all the time. Someone had a knife and I got in the way of it.’
Her heart twisted and she backed towards the door. ‘I should be going.’
‘And I need to carry on with this work. What time are you wrapping it up with your lessons?’
‘Last one at three.’ Rosie knew she had to go and yet she didn’t want to leave. Every small entry into his life felt magical. ‘I need to go and buy some food,’ she said, fidgeting. ‘I’ve been lazy when it comes to buying stuff. It’s easy to live off junk food because we get discounted prices at most of the cafés around here. One of the perks of being a ski instructor.’
‘I noticed a lot of greenery,’ Matteo remarked, enjoying the way she blushed, which was something that never failed to surprise him.
Rosie grimaced. ‘I know. I always think that if I buy lots of lettuce and vegetables then I’m going to actually eat them. I should. I should never go anywhere near chips or burgers.’
‘Why?’
‘Can’t you look at me and tell?’ She laughed and then sobered up when her eyes collided with his and she saw that he wasn’t laughing along with her.
His expression was...darkly hungry.
She shivered, a core of excitement reaching fever pitch as he continued to stare at her. By the time he lowered his gaze, her nerves were in crazy freefall and there was a heat between her thighs that made her want to rub them together.
‘No, I can’t, as a matter of fact,’ Matteo intoned in a driven undertone that was quite unlike his usual lazy drawl.
‘I’ll see you later.’ Rosie fled. Any longer in his presence and she would start having heart palpitations. Could he see the effect he had on her? For a minute, just then, she had seen something in his eyes that had sent her pulses racing out of control. It was an attraction that had gone to her head like incense. He’d wanted her. She was sure of that.
Her mind was all over the place for the rest of the day. She waved at Bob and Margaret, who were trying out the slopes on their own. She discovered that Matteo had been right to think that news of their whirlwind romance had done the rounds. She had to think fast on her feet when questions were asked, building a picture of a relationship that had been clandestine. He’d been busy wrapping up a deal and she’d been busy with her ski lessons so they had enjoyed snatched time together and things had gone on from there.
Fortunately, due to the nature of the business, there were a lot of arrivals and departures and the few friends she had made who had been there as long as she had, doing the season, seemed to have such frenetic social lives after their duties were done, that they accepted her stammering explanations without delving too deep. Indeed, the thought of ‘snatched time together’ had struck her girlfriends as wonderfully exciting.
She was pleasantly tired by the time she saw off her last client. She was preparing to head back to the hotel to dump her stuff and change when she happened to glance to her left and there he was. Her heart skipped a beat, then it skipped a couple more as he made his way towards her, dressed in ski gear.
‘I didn’t think you skied,’ she said breathlessly when he was standing in front of her.
She didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look as good as he did in ski clothes. Aside from a thin orange strip along the top, he was dressed completely in black. His sunglasses were propped up and he hadn’t shaved. She could make out the shadow of stubble on his chin.
At this hour, the slopes were emptying out, and from the resort below she could hear the distant strains of Christmas carols being played. Something about the stillness in the air seemed to trap the sound and hold it within the confines of the mountains rearing upwards, red, gold and white in the fading light.
‘I don’t.’ He flashed her a smile. ‘But you had a point when you said that some outdoor time together might be a good idea. Bought the gear, so here I am.’
‘It’s a little late...’ Her skin was burning. ‘But... I guess I could take you through the ropes. I mean, it’s not as though you actually want to learn to ski.’
‘Who kn
ows?’ Matteo murmured. ‘With the right teacher, I might find I have untapped talent.’
Nervous as a kitten, and aware of her roundness thanks to the layers of ski gear, Rosie went through the paces with him.
‘Feet together...take it slowly...keep the skis parallel... No, not quite like that. Here, let me show you. Don’t forget to keep your eyes ahead! Are you scared of heights, by the way? Will you be spooked in the cable car?’
Rosie had never had so much fun. She was in her comfort zone and, as she laughed and tried to give him some handy tips, she caught herself telling him about when she had first taken to the slopes. It was the one thing she was better at than her sisters.
‘They were clever,’ she said, eyeing the distance between his skis, ‘But I was always the sporty one.’
‘I’m surprised you didn’t think about making a career in it,’ Matteo murmured.
‘I’m a good skier,’ Rosie laughed, ‘But I’m not great enough to compete on an international level!’
‘There’s more to making a living in sport than practising it at an international level.’
This as they were making their way to the car, Matteo having managed to get hold of a personal driver to bring him down from the chalet.
Rosie paused for a fraction of a second and looked sideways at him.
‘You mean like a sports teacher or something?’
‘I mean...’
Matteo stopped and turned to look at her so that she was obliged to stop as well and stare up at him.
‘The key thing is to find what you enjoy, because chances are you’ll probably be good at it, and then with a favourable following wind you can make a career out of it.’
‘You enjoyed making money and you were good at it so you made a career out of it?’
‘I enjoyed the thought of being free. Money was just my passport to getting there. I’ve bought food.’
‘Sorry?’ Rosie’s brain was lagging behind, dwelling on what he had said.
‘Food. You said you needed. I’ve bought.’
Rosie felt a tingle of pleasure and for a few moments, a real sense of contentment. So this was what her sisters had, she thought with a pang. Someone to laugh with. Someone who bought food. Someone to open the car door for them.
She’d never had that.
This was just an illusion, and she didn’t want to get sucked in, but it was hard when he was chatting to her as they slowly bumped their way back up to the chalet, which was in darkness by the time they got there.
Around them, the snow blanketed everything in white. The air was dry and cold. The house, however, was toasty warm as they entered, shaking off the snow and dumping coats, gloves, scarves and boots in the spacious cupboard by the front door.
The intimacy of their surroundings, just the two of them in the house, hit her with the force of a sledgehammer as they headed towards the kitchen, Matteo with two carrier bags in his hands.
He switched on lights as they went. He’d dumped the outer layers and was down to a thermal tee shirt that clung lovingly to his muscular torso.
‘I’ll just go and get changed...showered.’ She was trailing behind him and she didn’t give him time to look around, carolling gaily as she veered off to the staircase. ‘And I’ll pop a towel in the guest bedroom for you!’
Not that there’s anything to worry about, she told herself. He might have glanced at you with a show of interest but you’re not his type. And he was the perfect gentleman last night. So making a point of telling him about the towel in the guest room is at best not very subtle and at worst a hint that you are downright terrified of sharing a bedroom with him when there’s no sister conveniently lodged two rooms along.
He had unpacked the carrier bags and the contents were laid out on the kitchen table in ceremonial fashion.
Rosie relaxed and grinned. She looked at what was there: tomatoes, some vegetables, duck eggs, an assortment of expensive pâtés, smoked salmon, various cheeses, an enormous box of the finest Swiss chocolates and a gateau that instantly made her mouth water.
‘You don’t need to watch what you eat.’ Matteo followed her gaze to the gateau.
Rosie ignored him. She was so conscious of his presence that the hairs on her arms were standing on end.
‘Duck eggs?’ She held the blue box up to him.
‘That was a mistake,’ Matteo admitted.
‘It’s a very interesting assortment of food and thank you very much for going to the trouble of buying it. I’m not sure what I do with some of these ingredients. Maybe we should just have a salad for our supper.’
‘There’s bread,’ Matteo informed her.
‘I guess you don’t cook at all?’
‘I try and avoid it.’ He found himself telling her that cooking had been de rigueur at the children’s home when he’d been growing up and the very fact of that had instilled a healthy dislike for anything to do with pots, pans and food preparation.
What he didn’t add was that he’d suffered from the realisation over the years that pots, pans and food preparation was what at least some women enjoyed doing in an attempt to whet his appetite for more than just the dishes they had lovingly prepared.
He watched as she fetched plates and busied herself opening the packets he had bought.
Did that count as food preparation? Nothing went into preparing a cold meal. It was ready in under half an hour and, looking at the spread, Matteo found himself wishing that he was about to eat something hot.
‘Do you...enjoy cooking at all?’ he queried, opening a bottle of wine.
It was a little after six. Early for supper, but it was dark outside, with flurries of snow reminding them of the time of year.
‘I wouldn’t say it’s the love of my life.’ Rosie had tactfully stuck the gateau out of sight and she eyed the array of pâtés, cheeses and smoked salmon with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
He’d obviously bought the sort of food he personally enjoyed.
‘This wouldn’t be your choice of food?’ he quizzed and she looked at him sheepishly.
‘I’ve always liked food that’s a bit more...more...’
‘Tasty?’
‘This is all very good.’
‘Wine will improve the flavours. Hang on for five secs.’
He disappeared and returned a few minutes later with two bottles of champagne.
‘Forgot I bought these at the wine merchant.’ He opened a bottle, found glasses, poured them a glass each and then returned to his seat.
Rosie was ashamed at just how good this felt, sitting here with this guy, eating a meal together, almost as though they weren’t caught up in a charade, a game of make believe.
She was uneasily aware of how slender the line could be between reality and fantasy.
This felt real.
This felt more real than any of the passing connections she had ever made over the years with guys and she knew that it was because, very quickly and purely because of the situation, they had shared things with one another. He had shared his background—reluctantly, she knew—but still...
She had opened up to him, he had listened and somehow he had seen right into the very heart of her. That had promoted a feeling of...closeness.
The champagne was excellent. The best money could buy.
‘I thought you had planned on working all day,’ she said a little drowsily after champagne had been drunk and a dent made in the food.
‘Bob and Margaret weren’t available for comment.’
‘I saw them on the slopes.’
‘Did they approach you? Ask any questions?’
‘They were too far away, but you were right about my friends seeming to know that we’re involved. When this started, I had no idea that it would grow legs and start running away from me.’ She sighed.
‘Like I’ve said b
efore...’ Matteo fetched the gateau from where she had earlier hidden it behind the canisters of sugar and tea ‘...once you start lying, it’s impossible to know where it’s going to end up.’
‘You must hate all of this.’ She looked at the slab of cake in front of her and was indecently keen to tuck in. He produced two forks and gently pulled the plate between them.
‘Care to share?’
Rosie’s eyes widened. This felt truly intimate. They weren’t touching one another—not even their forks touched!—yet as they at the slab of cake it felt weirdly intimate.
‘You asked me whether I was hating all of this,’ Matteo mused.
Her eyes were even more amazing up close, he distractedly found himself thinking. She couldn’t quite meet his gaze and he knew, with the instinct of a man well versed in the way women reacted, that her response was a physical one. The champagne had relaxed her but she was still wary. He could sense it. He could almost smell it.
What would she do if he touched her? He found the thought of that so erotic that he had to grit his teeth together to ease the ache in his groin.
‘You must be.’
‘I should be,’ he admitted, ‘But I suppose that a change is as good as a rest.’
Rosie wanted to feel relieved at that, but all she could think was, You’re enjoying the novelty of the situation. The novelty of being with someone like me. You’ve practically said so yourself.
She didn’t want to be a novelty but she wasn’t going to give that away.
‘I’ve put you in the room to the left of the staircase,’ she said, changing the subject.
‘There’s a towel on the bed,’ he added politely and she blushed.
‘I’ll tidy in the morning.’ She staged a yawn which turned into the real thing. ‘I’m exhausted. I always am in the evenings.’
‘And yet you wanted to go clubbing tonight.’
‘It was optimistic.’
‘You don’t have to try and run away from me,’ he said kindly, which made her blush even more. ‘As this evening has shown, we’re two adults perfectly capable of passing the time of day together without any major disagreements. I’m going to stay up for a couple of hours, finish some emails. I think, if we can agree to stick to this routine until your family show up, life shouldn’t be too overwhelming for us. Wouldn’t you agree? And, as soon as my deal is signed, we can begin the process of...disentanglement.’
The Italian's Christmas Proposition (HQR Presents) Page 8