WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel

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WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel Page 9

by STEEPLES, JILL


  ‘But I like you,’ I said, raising my face to his, expectantly.

  ‘And I like you too.’ He stood behind me now, ignoring my invitation, his voice calm and controlled, his arms on my elbows guiding me slowly through the kitchen into the hallway. At the bottom of the stairs I turned to look at him, falling into his arms.

  ‘No, but I really like you. You know.’ I nudged him with my arm. ‘I really, really like you.’ I closed my eyes, puckered up my lips and planted a kiss on what I intended to be his mouth, but with my aim being slightly off-key, it landed damply on the side of his nose.

  ‘Oh God,’ he said, forcibly turning me round and pushing me up the stairs, ‘you do need your bed.’

  ‘No, Rocco, I need your bed. Really I do. And I don’t mind. Being a number on your not inconsiderable tally sheet. In fact, it would be an honour. And I mean, I am a modern girl and I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve read all about you, you naughty, naughty boy, you!’

  I felt as if I could float up the stairs and slump deliciously into the depths of Rocco’s big, inviting double bed.

  ‘Everyone knows you can’t resist a pretty girl or . . .’ I was aware of an unbecoming raspberry noise escaping from my lips, ‘a not so pretty one.’ I ran my hands down my body and shimmied, or did a bad approximation of a shimmy, smiling inanely.

  ‘Upstairs. NOW!’

  ‘Oh God, Rocco, I do so love it when you’re masterful. It’s such a turn-on.’ I tripped over my feet up the stairs and had to resort to crawling up on my hands and knees, with Rocco pushing me gently from behind.

  ‘This way,’ I said, beckoning him with my finger when we finally made it to the top. I lurched, in what I hoped was a sexy manner, along the landing in the direction of the master bedroom.

  I felt his strong hands on the tops of my arms, firmly constraining me from behind. I span round and looked up into those reproving eyes.

  ‘Is that really what you think of me? That I’d take you to bed just for the fun of it? That I’d take advantage of our professional relationship? You’re a guest in my house for Christ’s sake! Really, Beth, what do you take me for? I can only think it’s the drink that’s doing the talking here.’

  Rocco didn’t relax his grip on my arms, his eyes had lost none of their cold edge and his nostrils were flaring like those of an angry stallion. Faced with his barely contained anger and the recognition of something else expressed upon his face, disgust or loathing, I couldn’t tell which, I felt sickened and ashamed of my behaviour.

  My hand reached up involuntarily to the sudden hammering at my temples. Weariness washed over me like a huge breaking wave.

  ‘Oh God. I’m sorry, Rocco.’ I felt woozy, my legs wobbling like a misbehaving puppet’s. Tears gathered in my eyes as my mind helpfully replayed, in glorious detail, my unsubtle attempts at seducing my boss. And just when I thought Rocco was about to release all that pent up anger in my direction, he leant forward and gently wiped away my tears with his thumbs, his face a hair’s breadth away from my own.

  ‘Now would you please just do as you are told and climb into bed.’

  Those were the very words I had been aching to hear but maybe not quite in this context.

  ‘Yes,’ I sniffed. ‘I am so, so sorry for, um . . .’ I wiped my forearm across my face, mopping up the dampness from my cheeks, ‘my behaviour.’ Snot gathered fetchingly on my top lip. ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ I offered, feeling sick to my stomach.

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘We all make mistakes. We’ll blame it on the drink and the pills, shall we? Next time, though, it’d probably be better not to mix them.’ He took me by the hand and led me into my bedroom. He pulled back the yellow daisy sprigged duvet cover, inviting me to climb in.

  ‘Goodnight, Beth. Sleep well.’ He leant forward, stroking my hair away from my eyes and behind my ears. With a tissue from the pretty box on the bedside table, he mopped my nose and my eyes with all the tenderness of a father soothing his child. Even in my distressed condition his touch sent a tingle coursing through my veins. His face hovered dangerously close above mine and for one blissful moment I thought his lips might have descended. In fact, I was intently willing those full lips of his to act in an improper manner. But they didn’t. Sadly, they acted with a great deal of propriety.

  With a jolt, Rocco pulled himself upright, looking at me with a mixture of confusion and bewilderment upon his face.

  ‘Jesus, Beth!’ He shook his head in frustration, but whether with himself or me I couldn’t tell. As he held me at arm’s length, his eyes blazing, I could feel the flash of heat radiating between us. A warm sensation was caressing the insides of my tummy before embarking on an insidious journey down between my thighs.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, curtly. ‘Now get to sleep.’ He turned and walked out of the bedroom. ‘I’ll see you on Monday morning. There’s plenty we need to discuss.’

  My head couldn’t deal with that particular thought just then.

  I slipped out of my clothes, abandoning them over the edge of the bed and snuggled beneath the covers.

  Moments later I heard Rocco call from the bottom of the stairs, ‘Sweet dreams, Beth.’

  Chapter 11

  I didn’t need much persuading. As soon as Rocco was out of earshot I slumped beneath the duvet, my eyes snapping shut in search of refuge from the excesses of the night. Sleep beckoned fondly.

  Waking up the next morning was slightly more troublesome, though. My head had landed in a heavy fog, my throat felt dry and scratchy and worst of all, I was hallucinating. All sorts of wild images kept coming into my mind. It was the worst nightmare I’d ever experienced. There was me tiptoeing about, in a state of undress, my ample bosom wobbling out of my undersized blouse and everything else jiggling in sympathy. Fluttering my eyelashes, puckering up my lips and wiggling my derriere, I giggled maniacally as I made suggestive comments to my boss. He of the swarthy good looks and artistic temperament, the one who’d spent a great proportion of his life wooing and bedding a whole string of beautiful women, but who’d treated me with nothing but unnecessary and unwarranted good manners, delivered with a pitying look in his eyes. Good grief, if it hadn’t been so real, so lifelike, it could almost have been comical. Only with a growing sense of dread and horror I realised why it was quite so vivid. It wasn’t some ghastly dream I could wake up from. The horror I was reliving was like watching a re-run of last night’s soap, only an episode I’d actually lived through, starring me and Rocco as the lead characters.

  Shit!

  I eased my legs out of the side of the bed, gently levering myself upright and walked gingerly over to the window. Drawing back the curtains, the sight that greeted me lifted my spirits and was one I could never imagine growing tired of. Even in the morning drizzle, the fields stretching out into the distance to the brook that ran along the edge of Rocco’s property, looked breathtakingly pretty. Like something from Country Life magazine.

  In my mind’s eye, I took a picture. An image that would stay with me forever, even though I knew it was something I would have to say goodbye to very soon. Rocco’s parting words from the previous evening were whirling around in my head. The only thing he could possibly want to talk to me about was my future as his assistant. Rocco was obviously too much of a professional to give me my marching orders while I was in a state of intoxication. Yet it was obvious. On Monday morning Rocco would be issuing his final instructions and I would be left looking for another job, with the prospect of returning to my gloomy little flat in London a million miles away from the oasis I’d found here in the country.

  * * *

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Sylvia, shaking her head as I shuffled into the kitchen a bit later. ‘Was it really such a bad night?’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ I eased myself carefully into a chair as Sylvia placed a mug of tea in front of me.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, not even attempting to make me feel better. ‘You look awful. A dreadful col
our. Should I find you some painkillers?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’ Moving my head, I discovered, was a very bad idea. Demons were leaping about inside. ‘Pink Champagne,’ I muttered, in explanation. ‘Awful stuff. I’ll never touch a drop again.’

  ‘Famous last words, eh?’ Sylvia chuckled. ‘Well, Rocco and Pandora looked bright-eyed enough this morning.’

  Oh God, did Sylvia have to remind me quite so soon? Of course they would be looking good, wouldn’t they? They were professionals at this partying malarkey; the pair of them were probably giggling away right now at my shameful antics. Like a teenager who’s been let out alone for the first time, I’d behaved appallingly.

  I could just imagine Pandora in all her early morning glory, but then she was the epitome of complete self-control and denial. Unlike me. Just a smidgeon of her discipline would have gone a long way last night, but I was woefully lacking in that department.

  ‘They left at about seven o’clock,’ Sylvia told me. ‘They’re spending the weekend in town; they have a couple of functions to go to, apparently.’

  I groaned inwardly. What could I have been thinking of, coming on to Rocco like that, knowing he had an amazing and beautiful girlfriend right there? He would never look twice at me, even if he were in the unlikely situation of being available.

  I nodded. ‘Well, I’ll be out of the way as well this weekend. It’s my sister’s engagement party tonight,’ I said, trying to muster up some excitement. ‘Hopefully, I’ll be feeling a bit better by then.’ I yawned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  ‘Oh how lovely. Seeing your sister and celebrating with her, that’ll be smashing, won’t it?’ said Sylvia, grinning. ‘And it’ll do you good to get away from here for a while too, away from his lordship. I know what he can be like. Forget about all of this,’ she said, lifting her hands and shaking her head disparagingly as if we were in the middle of some godawful sink estate. ‘You go and enjoy yourself for a few hours, lovey.’

  * * *

  I didn’t quite share Sylvia’s enthusiasm at meeting up with Lexi again and in such unnatural circumstances too. I mean, an engagement party! I didn’t think people still went in for those kinds of things. And I hadn’t liked the way Sylvia had suggested that a break from the house and Rocco would do me good, as if being there was a bad thing or something, when to me it seemed like the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  But missing the party wasn’t something I could even consider, much as I might have wanted to. So, a few hours later, after a delightful journey through the countryside, I was standing in the Riverden Rugby club with Lexi squeezing me so tightly I thought I might faint there on the spot.

  ‘Beth, I can’t tell you how much this means to me, having you here, sharing in all this.’ She gestured around the room at the balloons proclaiming the engagement and at Mitch, who was standing beside her like a lost soul, a bemused grin stretched wide across his face. God, they both looked so revoltingly happy.

  ‘Thanks for coming, Beth.’ He nodded in agreement. What kind of a name was Mitch anyway? It might have suited an all-American cowboy, but a personal trainer from Neasden? It just didn’t seem to fit.

  ‘I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,’ I lied. ‘Just make sure you look after her, Mitch, that’s all I ask or else you’ll have her scary big sister to answer to.’

  ‘I promise,’ he said, grabbing Lexi affectionately by the arm and placing a kiss on her cheek. ‘She means everything to me.’

  Despite my reservations, I couldn’t feel anything but happy for them as they seemed so wrapped up in each other, so pleased at their own good fortune. And come to think of it, why shouldn’t it work? It had the same chance, more so even, than any relationship that had trudged along for years on end. And I should know. Martin’s benign face flitted into my mind. With a pang, I realised I hadn’t thought about him in quite a while.

  ‘So, how’s it going with Rocco? You’ve been very tight-lipped about the whole thing.’ Lexi guided me by the elbow through the throng of revellers to a quiet spot by the bar. ‘You haven’t got any exciting news of your own, have you?’ She was grinning, her eyes shining, so caught up in her own happiness that she wanted everyone else, me especially, to be eating from the same box of chocolates.

  I shook my head in mock dismay.

  ‘It’s going very well, thank you. But it’s a job, remember? Not anything more.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, but what’s he really like? You must have got to know him by now. Ooh, I think he’s so hot,’ she swooned. ‘All that brooding Italian passion simmering beneath the controlled exterior.’ Lexi fanned her face with her hand.

  ‘Stop it,’ I giggled. ‘You’re virtually a married woman. You’re not allowed to indulge in those kinds of thoughts anymore.’

  ‘And he’s a real Lothario by all accounts,’ Lexi went on. ‘He must have made a pass at you, surely? He makes a pass at every woman, I hear.’

  She’d obviously been reading the same newspaper articles as me. In my shame, I couldn’t even admit to my sister that I was the only one who’d been making any passes. Trust Lexi to put in a nutshell what I’d been mulling over since I’d started the job. I was more than a little put out to think that Rocco hadn’t shown the slightest interest in making a pass at me, despite my none-too-subtle attempts at flirting with him.

  ‘No. Ours is a purely professional relationship.’

  ‘Oh, poor girl,’ she said, ruffling my hair playfully. ‘What a shame! Never mind, I could always fix you up with one of Mitch’s friends. What about him over there with the bald head and the kipper tie? He looks up for a laugh.’

  ‘Don’t even think about it, Lexi. I’m not looking for a man, thank you. I’m quite happy with my life the way it is.’

  I said it with such conviction that I almost believed it for a second, but judging by the doubtful expression on Lexi’s face, I knew I wasn’t kidding anybody. Thankfully a big burly man intent on buying Lexi a drink breezed into our conversation, saving me from further uncomfortable interrogations from my sister.

  ‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ I said, seizing the opportunity to escape and making a dash for the loo. ‘Nice to meet you,’ I called to Mr Big.

  Away from the hubbub, alone in the insalubrious surroundings of the ladies, I confronted my image in the mirror. Thankfully, my hair seemed to be coming through its ‘hedge-backwards’ stage and looked softer now that my red tresses, shimmering with a few random gold highlights, fell carelessly onto my shoulders. I peered closer into the glass, wiping away a smudge of wayward mascara. My eyes, what my dad had always described, rather unflatteringly, as a sludgy greeny-grey colour, seemed uncharacteristically bright and shone with something that I only now realised had been missing for a long time. Hope, maybe. Excitement, perhaps. Whatever it was I liked the look of it. So I was alone. So my future was looking scarily unpredictable. So my family seemed to be pulling away from me, carving out their own paths in life, but none of that mattered. I had an inkling that my future shone like a tiny bright star just out of reach up in the night sky.

  For too long I’d been idling along without giving any real thought to what it was I really wanted from my life. I’d settled for something that was comfortable and un-taxing but ultimately dull, and in the space of a few weeks I’d realised I wanted and deserved much more.

  Combing my hair through with my fingers, I gave myself a smile of approval and went back outside to enjoy the party. Then, just as I was winding my way through the crowd of revellers, my newfound optimism for the future was dealt a body blow when I had a startling run-in with the past.

  ‘Beth!’ The voice was gut-wrenchingly familiar. ‘How lovely to see you.’ The next thing I knew I was wrapped in the comfortable embrace of Martin’s arms before he placed a hearty kiss on my flushed cheek. It felt anything but dull.

  ‘Martin!’ I could have sworn my heart stopped beating for the briefest of moments. Of course, there was no reason why he shouldn’
t be at the party. He’d always got on fantastically well with Lexi. But I hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might be there. And why hadn’t my dear sister given me the courtesy of a warning that she’d invited my ex?

  ‘You look fabulous,’ he said, and I felt peeved that he was looking pretty damn good himself. He certainly didn’t look as I would have hoped. Lovelorn, heartbroken, pining. At his side, a young woman, who looked even more uncomfortable than I was feeling, if that were possible, shifted her gaze to the floor. In a witness statement to the police I would have described her as being of average height, average build, with mousey hair. Average, basically.

  Martin caught me looking at her.

  ‘Beth, this is Sue. A friend of mine. We’ve been working on the Landbee Tower project together. Do you remember me telling you about it?’

  Vaguely. She didn’t look like an architect, though. Not that I was entirely sure how an architect should look. But certainly not like this nondescript woman in front of me.

  Perhaps she was the tea-girl, I thought uncharitably.

  Turning his back on his companion, Martin led me away by the arm to a quiet spot.

  ‘God, it’s fantastic to see you.’ His eyes scanned my face. ‘I was hoping you’d be here.’

  The idiot. Of course I’m here, I felt like shouting, it’s my sister’s engagement party for Christ’s sake. I should be here. But you! What the hell are you doing here? Why couldn’t you have declined the invitation with a carefully worded excuse like any decent man would have done? But I didn’t say any of that. Instead I tried to quash the rising surge of anger flooding through my veins. Anger at the hurt he’d caused me, indignation at the mere fact that he’d found the balls to dump me in the first place and sheer outrage that he was now standing in front of me, grinning like an idiot, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  ‘We need to talk,’ he said, crumpling his face into something approaching sympathy. ‘Don’t you think?’

  No, I didn’t actually. I couldn’t think of anything we needed to talk about. Except perhaps the pile of dirty washing he’d left behind in my laundry basket.

 

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