WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel

by STEEPLES, JILL

  ‘Cheers! Here’s to a good evening.’

  ‘Are you nervous at all?’

  He laughed, shaking his head.

  ‘It’s what I do. Cooking. Imparting knowledge. Telling people what to do.’ He winked, a wicked look in his eyes.

  ‘Cheers!’ I drank to that, but couldn’t help thinking how much better it would be if it were just the two of us.

  I settled down on a stool and watched as Rocco worked, admiring the ease with which he moved around the small galley, his strong hands peeling, chopping and slicing with an efficiency that could only have come from years of experience. He glanced across at me from time to time, his eyes the colour of slate flashing with something unsaid, the promise of a smile hovering at the edge of his lips.

  ‘Could you find me a dish,’ he’d say, ‘something to serve the pasta in? There should be something in those cupboards beside the sink.’

  And that was really my only contribution to the proceedings. Finding the odd dish, topping up the wine, looking on appreciatively. I was an expert at that.

  By the time Dave and Paul arrived, the boat was awash with the most divine smells, a heady mix of onions, garlic and lemons seducing my taste buds.

  ‘My God, something smells good,’ said Dave, echoing my sentiments. ‘I hope there’ll be plenty of left-overs for the hard-working crew.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do!’ Rocco winked as he shook a pan over the heat.

  Zak and Pandora, her arm tucked into his, piled through the door at the very last moment, just as we were all getting a bit jittery. But you couldn’t stay cross with Zak for very long.

  ‘Whoa! Has the party started already? Beth, you’re looking absolutely gorgeous! Come here and give us a kiss.’

  ‘Thank you so much for the flowers,’ I said, throwing my arms around his chest, nestling into his very un-rock star-ish, cream cable knit jumper, soaking up the smell of booze and fags. ‘They were so beautiful. Look, I had to bring some down here, there were so many of them.’

  ‘My pleasure, babe. We’re just so pleased you’re better, aren’t we Rocco?’

  Rocco nodded, as he ladled soup into bowls, smiling easily at Zak.

  ‘Ahem!’ Pandora cleared her throat. ‘I’m going to get changed. Somebody fix me a drink. Please. I’m dying of thirst here.’

  The way she barked out her instructions, she must have had a whole army of staff at home to tend to her every whim. She was obviously used to people running around after her. She sauntered into the cabin at the far end of the boat, cursing loudly.

  Moments later she hollered, ‘BETH!’

  I knew my place. I dashed into the tiny room and heard my chin scrape against the floor as I took in the sight before me. Pandora was standing stark naked, bar the teeniest of thongs, totally devoid of embarrassment as she wrestled with a black concoction.

  ‘Will you ’elp, please?’ she asked, her eyes smiling at me for the first time, over a bronzed shoulder.

  ‘Of course.’

  I busied myself around her, trying not to gawp at her beauty. Gently, I pulled up the zip that ran from her bottom to the top of her neck, encasing her perfectly in the outfit.

  ‘Thanks, Beth.’ And she dismissed me with a wave.

  A few minutes later she emerged looking like the villainess in a James Bond movie. A swathe of black skin-hugging fabric clung to her curves, her eyes were heavily lined with smudgy charcoal eye-liner and her lips were painted a vivid red. Talk about the scarlet woman. Zak and I gasped in harmony.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ I said, my mouth dropping open. I’d changed earlier, back at the house, but my black flowing skirt and gypsy blouse, which had always served me well until now, was I noticed, straining at the seams after what I can only suppose was all the delicious grub I’d been shovelling down my throat these last few weeks. I was beginning to realise the occupational hazards of working for a top chef.

  ‘It’s my job,’ said Pandora, the smile on her lips failing to reach her eyes. She sidled up to Zak, soaking up the admiration that was obvious in his eyes.

  ‘God, Pandora, I think that might be slightly OTT for what we’re doing here. It’s meant to be an informal supper with friends, not a Goth’s coming out party.’

  ‘I like to make the effort, Rocco, you know that. Besides, I have my reputation to think of. I can hardly be seen on national TV in any old tat.’ Her sharp eyes travelled around the room, surveying the men, before landing with a heavy bump on my outfit.

  I pulled my straining blouse together to cover my escaping cleavage, wishing I’d chosen something more flattering. Like a hessian sack.

  ‘Right, well, if we’re all ready,’ Dave cut in, ‘we ought to make a start.’

  Surprisingly, once the cameras started rolling I began to relax. Rocco was at his most comfortable when talking about food and at the table Pandora changed from a snarling Rottweiler into a purring pussycat, toying with her hair in an endearing fashion, laughing generously at the banter over the table and looking approvingly into Rocco’s eyes every time he looked over. I was certain she had a great future as an actress.

  Zak had brought a box of pink champagne along with him and he was doing a great job of making sure everyone’s glass was topped up. Not having had pink champagne before I was immediately entranced with its life-enhancing qualities, relishing the tickly feeling it made at the end of my nose. I was beginning to enjoy myself. I declared it there and then my most favourite drink. God, it was good to feel better again.

  The first course, a butternut squash and pumpkin soup, was to die for. Its autumnal hue was inviting and when I dipped in my spoon the texture was velvety smooth, dripping with flavour.

  ‘Umm, isn’t this delicious!’ I swooned in what I hoped was a natural way. I’d seen one of Nigella’s guests do something similar once.

  Pandora, I noticed, had been given the smallest of portions by Rocco, a spoonful of the amber nectar that barely covered the bottom of the bowl, which I thought was a little unkind. Even so, she barely made any inroads into it. She swished it around her bowl, lifted the spoon to her generous lips, took a sniff of the delicious aroma and then returned the spoon to the bowl. I swear not a morsel passed her lips.

  Fascinated, I watched casually as she did the same routine with the paltry portion of wild mushroom fettuccine that Rocco handed her. Then I cottoned on. It wasn’t that he was being miserly with the portions, it was clear that eating was not on Pandora’s agenda. No wonder she was thin. Still, for the purpose of the programme, it didn’t matter. Dave got plenty of footage of both Zak and me stuffing ourselves silly, emitting sighs of delight at the amazing combinations of flavours, while Pandora looked on, laughing, and looking lovely.

  ‘Pandora, you didn’t eat a thing!’ I chided, when the cameras stopped rolling and Paul and Dave were tucking in to what was left.

  She flashed a withering look my way.

  ‘Of course not,’ she snapped, her sunny disposition having immediately clouded over as soon as the cameras stopped rolling. ‘You’re obviously not familiar with self-control, Beth.’ She placed her hands on her waist, showing off its tiny dimensions and thrusting out her surgically enhanced breasts. ‘I have my figure to think about.’

  ‘Ooh, but I like a woman who enjoys her food.’ Zak was leaning back on the bench, his legs resting on a chair opposite. ‘Very sexy!’ he said, his eyes alighting on my cleavage. ‘Don’t you agree, Rocco?’

  ‘Definitely. Beth certainly has a healthy appetite.’ I grimaced, thinking about the number of times Rocco had seen me shovelling food down my throat. He must have thought me a real gannet. ‘I think it shows a zest for life.’

  Zak spluttered.

  ‘What you mean is, a healthy appetite for food is an indication of a healthy appetite for other earthy pleasures.’ He winked at me and I felt myself blush, giggling at his lascivious expression.

  ‘I’ll just get this cleared away,’ I said, standing up and collecting the plates together and i
gnoring Pandora’s scowling face.

  ‘Here, babe,’ said Zak, topping up my champagne glass. ‘Take this with you.’

  I took another sip before climbing into the pinny that Rocco had been wearing and ran some water into the sink, placing the dirty dishes into the foaming suds.

  ‘You okay?’ I froze to the spot. A pair of warm hands came from behind and rested firmly on my waist. Rocco’s hands. His breath was hot against my neck. A shiver ran down the length of my body.

  I spun around and met his dark, heavy eyes. He didn’t remove his hands, or the intensity of his gaze. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’d like to do it. It was a fantastic meal, Rocco. Probably the best I’ve eaten,’ I said, meaning it, and realising with pleasure that I had no means of escape.

  His lips curled pleasingly. The proximity of his face and the scent of his body were almost unbearable. I could so easily have leant forward and felt the touch of his skin upon mine.

  ‘Here,’ he said, leaning forward. He held my face with one hand and with the other, wiped his finger across my lips removing a small piece of shortbread biscuit. ‘That’s better,’ he said, popping the offending crumb into his mouth. ‘Let me grab a tea towel, and I’ll help you.’

  He moved away and I was left all a-flutter. My heart was racing, and all sorts of inappropriate thoughts swam through my mind. My legs felt as if they might crumple beneath me. I plunged my hands into the hot, soapy water to take my mind off my ridiculous fantasies, and attacked the plates savagely with a brush.

  Over on the gingham-covered bench, Pandora had curled her long legs beneath her and tucked herself into the embrace of Zak’s arm. She was looking up at him, regaling him with filthy jokes. Their raucous laughter drifted our way.

  ‘They seem to be enjoying themselves.’ I tilted my head in their direction.

  ‘Oh, Zak’s good with Pandora. He knows exactly how to handle her. Not many people do.’ He paused before turning towards me. ‘What would you like to do? Stay here for a while or go back to the house?’

  ‘I think I’ll go back if you don’t mind. I’m whacked.’ The combination of food and the booze had produced a most delightful soporific effect. And the less time I spent in the company of Pandora, the better, as far as I was concerned. ‘But don’t worry about me; I can make my own way back.’

  ‘You’re in no fit state to drive and you’ll have to wait an age for a taxi. Don’t worry, I’ll take you home. I’ve not had much to drink.’ He pulled out two bottles from the box Zak had brought. ‘But,’ he said, smiling, ‘the night’s young. We’ll take these with us and carry on the party at home.’

  Now he came to mention it, I was feeling a little bit woozy. Probably the lingering effects of that recent bug.

  ‘You coming?’ Rocco pulled on his coat and looked across at Zak and Pandora, who seemed firmly entrenched in the corner.

  ‘Sure,’ said Zak, attempting to get up.

  ‘In a minute,’ said Pandora, pushing him back down again. ‘We’ll follow you up there in a while. Let’s just finish our drinks first.’

  * * *

  Rocco ushered me up the steps, out on to the gangway. It was one of those perfect autumn nights, bitterly cold but clean and crisp, the moon casting a benevolent glow on the still waters of the canal.

  ‘You cold?’ He ran his hands up my bare arms, causing my goose bumps to shiver all the more. ‘Here, take this,’ he said, handing me his coat. I slipped it on, feeling like a small child dressing up in their mother’s clothes. It swamped me like a silk parachute and gave me more than a passing resemblance to Worzel Gummidge. Rocco gently guided me onto the towpath, and then broke into a run. ‘Quickly! Get a move on.’

  He ran off, laughing, looking behind him, and I made a feeble attempt at running after him, but in my heels and Rocco’s flapping coat it was futile. I felt woozy, light-headed and, for some reason, ridiculously content.

  ‘So,’ Rocco asked, a few minutes later, as he steered the Land Rover out of the car park, ‘how are you finding it, working here? We’ve not really had a chance to talk. You enjoying it?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ I turned my head to look at his profile, the sharp angle of his jaw, the prominent cheekbones, the smattering of curls that took his hard-edged appearance and transformed it into something bordering on the angelic. ‘It’s great. You know . . .’ I said, faltering for a moment feeling suddenly bashful, ‘different to what I’m used to. Most of my time has been spent working for big corporate companies in the city. I suppose I’m used to that sort of environment and those types of people, so this has been a bit of a learning curve. Working in the creative sector.’

  Rocco smiled.

  ‘You cope with it all very well, though. I won’t tell you how many girls I’ve got through in the past year.’

  I can well imagine, I thought, stifling a smile but electing to keep that private musing to myself.

  ‘I meant on a professional level,’ he said, raising his eyebrows as if he’d read my thoughts. ‘I need someone like you, who’s calm and level-headed and not easily swayed by the sometimes volatile atmosphere of my working day.’

  And yet it seemed he sought out that kind of highly charged atmosphere in his personal life too. It didn’t make sense.

  I nodded. ‘Oh, in my job, you get used to dealing with a lot of different personalities.’ Although high maintenance neurotic supermodels were a new one even to me, I didn’t add.

  Still, I’d seen a softer side to Pandora this evening. Admittedly it had been only a fleeting glimpse, but maybe that tough, shiny exterior was simply that. A shield to protect her from whatever life was chucking at her.

  Moments later Rocco brought the jeep to a crunching halt in the gravel drive of the house, and Millie gave us a rousing welcome.

  ‘Fancy a nightcap?’ Rocco held up the pretty pink bottles enticingly, as he slammed the door shut with his foot.

  ‘Lovely,’ I said, feeling relaxed and looking longingly at the bottles of fizz.

  Chapter 10

  My relationship with alcohol had always gone like this. Not that I’ve ever been what I’d call a hardened drinker, but on those rare occasions, like this evening, when it had flowed oh so easily and tipped down my throat oh so effortlessly, that moment when it all goes horribly wrong always comes as a surprise.

  There you are tipping back your glass and feeling witty, charming, flirty and gorgeous, for all the world like the most entertaining female creature on the planet when, wham, it hits you without warning.

  I’d been okay on the boat and in the car on the way home, but that next glass of champagne, the one in the kitchen at the house, with Rocco standing against the cream range observing me thoughtfully, Millie at his feet, had the most peculiar effect.

  ‘Ooh, I love this champagne,’ I said, peering into the side of my glass at the motion of the bubbles, ‘I could drink this all night. In fact, I just might,’ I said, stabbing my finger in his direction. ‘This will be my drink of choice from now on.’

  ‘Good. I’ll remember that.’ He looked across at me wryly.

  I undid my shoes, allowing my swollen stockinged feet to rest on the floor and I undid the top button of my blouse. It had been fit to burst all night and the relief at unleashing the strain, even if the resulting spillage wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world, was immense.

  ‘I want to thank you, Rocco, for such a lovely evening. It has been lovely, simply . . .’ I searched for a suitably fitting word, floundered and plumped for ‘lovely’ again. Content with my choice I sighed. ‘Why don’t you come and sit down next to me, so I can thank you properly,’ I said, patting the chair beside me fondly.

  ‘No, it’s okay.’ He paused, raising his eyebrows at me. ‘Beth, are you feeling alright?’

  ‘Perfect.’ I swooned. ‘Absolutely perfect.’ It was true. I loved it all. The house and Millie, being with Rocco. It seemed such a natural state of affairs, and I had to remind myself
that I was this man’s employee and not a permanent fixture. My head, I realised, was swimming now and my whole body felt fit to collapse. I got up, steadying my swaying body on the side of the table.

  ‘Although I think maybe we need another drink, don’t you, Rocco?’ I peered into my empty glass at the remaining drop sitting forlornly at the bottom, raised the glass to the air and to my complete horror, and never ending regret, I winked at him. I think it was probably a first for me. I’d never winked at anyone in my life. And I’m not entirely sure I mastered the technique. I had an awful suspicion I looked like a second-rate actor auditioning for the role of a pirate.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Rocco, walking over to greet me. He snatched the glass out of my hand. ‘You’re still taking those antibiotics, aren’t you? I completely forgot. You shouldn’t be drinking this, you silly girl!’

  ‘Oh Rocco, don’t be such a duddy-fuddy, no, I mean fuddy-duddy,’ I said, pushing him playfully on the chest. God, I felt wonderful. I giggled, standing on tiptoe to reach the champagne bottle he was holding up in the air, out of my reach. ‘I think this is the best medicine there is. It should be available on the NHS, don’t you think?’

  ‘What I think is that you’ve had far too much of this already. Come on,’ he said, grabbing me firmly by the arm, ‘let’s get you up to bed.’

  ‘Rocco, really,’ I said, fluttering my eyelashes suggestively, revealing the hitherto unknown sex goddess deep within, ‘are you inviting me into your boudoir?’ I sniggered, remembering the conversation in his bedroom where he’d banished me until I received a formal invitation. This could be my opportunity, but then again why was he choosing this moment to glare at me in his best grumpy boss impression?

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Beth.’

  I peered at his face noting his pained expression, the weariness in his eyes. He was completely exhausted, poor lovey, but then he did work so hard. Sylvia and I had discussed the matter in detail. What he needed, obviously, was a little lie-down.