WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel

by STEEPLES, JILL

  She leant over to place her card between his fingers, her eyes lingering over his face, her full pink lips hovering over his mouth, her cleavage exposed to maximum effect.

  ‘Please,’ she said, pressing her lips firmly onto his.

  He extricated himself from her embrace, laughing.

  ‘Good meeting you.’ He turned his back on Miss TT, who took the hint and left, turning round on her way out to wink at Rocco. He placed his hand on my arm. His shirt sleeves were rolled up displaying his firm, tanned arms. His hands, I noticed, bore a myriad of scars, no doubt acquired during his years working in kitchens.

  ‘Are you ready to make a move? I think I need to get out of here.’

  I nodded, smiling, and feeling for some reason like a lamb to the proverbial.

  ‘Aren’t you going to take this with you?’ I picked up the card Miss TT had gone to such trouble to leave behind.

  ‘Beth!’ he said, his tone mocking. ‘What sort of a guy do you take me for?’ He picked up the card and tore it in half and then half again, discarding the pieces on a plate. ‘You know, don’t you,’ he said, tipping up my chin with a finger and gazing into my eyes, ‘my heart’s already spoken for.’

  Chapter 17

  I’d been hoping that Rocco might have wanted to continue drinking in the bar, socialising with the people from his publishing company, giving me the opportunity to make my excuses and retire to bed. But he was intent on escorting me to my room.

  ‘We’ll go up now, shall we? Unless, of course, you’d like another drink?’ I was about to decline, to suggest he continued his drinking alone, when he placed a firm hand on my elbow, ‘then again, there’s always room service,’ he whispered. His voice was heavy with intent, his breath hot on my neck as he guided me through the throng of people.

  When the lift doors closed on us, that feeling of claustrophobia — the one that overtook me every time I was alone with Rocco — engulfed me. His very presence always felt so huge and overwhelming that my skin prickled and my breathing came fast. Clearly, any heightened sexual tension I was feeling was all of my own making because Rocco seemed completely relaxed, so much so that I wondered if perhaps he was getting some perverse pleasure out of my obvious discomfort.

  In the mirror I focused my attention upon our reflection. It seemed infinitely safer than turning and facing the real McCoy standing beside me. We made a handsome couple, I thought, not in the air-brushed, celebrity mould, a la Pandora and see us in Hello magazine next week way, but in a more natural ‘don’t they make a lovely couple’ way. Well, I thought so, indulging in a little late night fantasy in the confines of my fuzzy head. His long, strong body encased in that sumptuous plum velvet suit was the perfect backdrop to my little black dress, the copper highlights in my hair providing the necessary dash of light.

  ‘Well, thanks for a lovely evening, Beth,’ he said, smiling, as we stood in the corridor outside my room. His arm travelled up the door frame as I shifted awkwardly on the spot, not knowing where to look as his other arm rested on the wall opposite. I was trapped between his arms, but I wasn’t complaining. I could feel his breath upon my face and noticed his eyes darting, teasing me.

  ‘Really, it wouldn’t have been the same without you. I mean it.’ He leant down and kissed me lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Goodnight, Beth, sleep well,’ he added, and turned and wandered off to his room at the other end of the corridor. I watched him go, my whole body quivering, and feeling strangely deflated.

  On the other side of the door, I kicked my shoes off and slumped to the floor. What was the matter with me? Behaving like a lovesick puppy. Thank goodness Rocco wasn’t indulging in any of his own late night fantasies as we could so easily have been ripping each other’s clothes off at this point and my intentions of behaving appropriately and professionally would have flown straight out of the window.

  Standing up, I stepped out of my dress, letting it fall to the floor and went to the bathroom, splashing my face with cold water in an attempt to rid myself of these highly disturbing thoughts. In front of the mirror, I removed the remnants of my make-up, brushed and flossed my teeth and combed my hair through. My clean, bare-faced reflection, resplendent in my old faithful cotton M&S pyjamas smiled back at me. Cinderella had done her vanishing act.

  I’d just managed to reach the bed with my glass of water when a rat-a-tat-tatting on the door stopped me in my tracks.

  ‘Shit!’ I muttered, not as quietly as I intended, knowing it could only be one person, the last person I wanted to see while I was doing a very favourable impression of Doris Day having a bad day, in the Pyjama Game.

  I eased the door open, peering around the edge.

  ‘Fancy a nightcap?’ Rocco, minus his jacket, was standing at the threshold clutching a bottle. ‘It’s your favourite— pink champagne,’ he added, as if I needed persuading.

  ‘Come in,’ I said, leaning back against the wall, wondering how I might inject a bit of sex appeal into my newly scrubbed look.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ he gasped, a smile forming on his lips as he took in my change of attire, ‘I didn’t think you’d be . . . ’ he held his hands up, uncharacteristically lost for words. ‘Would you prefer it if I went and left you to get some sleep?’

  ‘No, it’s okay.’ Now he was here there was nothing I wanted more, even if it wasn’t the most ideal of circumstances. I grasped the glass Rocco offered me, my fingers finding comfort in the long thin stem, watching as the bubbles fizzed excitedly in the glass, and took a reviving glug.

  How had I managed to get it all so wrong again? I imagined Pandora in the same situation. She’d be simmering sexily in something satiny or lacy, flashing a glimpse of tautened thigh or enticing cleavage. Pandora! There she was again. Always making an appearance in my mind when I least wanted her to.

  I sighed, casting a downwards glance at my body. Flashing anything at all in my stripy numbers was most definitely out of the question.

  ‘The problem is, I suffer from insomnia. Did I tell you that?’ Rocco kicked off his patent black shoes and began to undo the buttons on his shirt, before plonking himself in the chequered armchair at the foot of my bed, his long arms hanging over the sides. Talk about making yourself at home.

  ‘No,’ I squeaked, unable to drag my eyes away from the sight in front of me. His shirt fell open offering a panoramic view of a rippling torso that led enticingly, invitingly into the ruched waistband of his trousers. When did he find the time to work out, I wondered? I scheduled his diary and I couldn’t remember allocating the sort of time you’d need to master a six-pack like that.

  ‘Is it all the stuff with your mum, do you think?’ I asked, trying to concentrate on something, anything, other than his body.

  He shrugged.

  ‘I’ve never needed much sleep. I can get by on four or five hours, but you’re right, there has been a lot going on in my head recently. That letter from my mum unsettled me more than I thought it would.’ He dropped his gaze, studying his fingernails intently. ‘Do you know the thing that surprised me most about that, though?’ He looked up giving me the full intensity of his laser-beam stare.

  I shook my head.

  ‘As soon as I read it, I wanted to tell you, to be with you. That was the only thing that was important to me at the time and that’s why I came flying back to Mettlesham to see you.’

  Could that be true? It would explain why he’d been in such a filthy mood when he turned up on the boat and found me in a clinch with Martin.

  ‘Well, you should have said something.’ I saw the vulnerability in his face as he watched for my reaction. ‘I could have got rid of Martin. He would have understood.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that was the other thing that pole-axed me. Seeing you with Martin. I hated it. Jealousy ripped through my chest that afternoon. I just couldn’t handle it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before and that’s when I realised just how much you’ve come to mean to me, Beth.’

  His words hung in the air,
the enormity of the situation hanging like a cloud over my head. But was this for real or was it evidence of his renowned flirting technique? No wonder he’d bedded a whole string of beauties. He was a master at making you feel like the most important person in the world.

  Oh God. I went all squirmy inside my pyjamas, not knowing how to react. My head was telling me one thing. Rocco was my boss. It couldn’t happen. It would spoil our working relationship. What about Pandora?

  But my heart was reading from a completely different script. Rocco was my boss but he was also the one I’d fallen desperately in love with. The one who oozed sex appeal from every pore. Wasn’t this everything I wanted?

  ‘Basically it was this I wanted to talk to you about.’ He came and sat beside me on the bed. His hand reached up to touch the side of my face and for one awful moment I thought there would be a repeat of the spinach episode. My tongue did a quick sweep of my teeth, remembering with relief I’d only just brushed them. I looked up at Rocco and his eyes were heavy with desire as his finger traced a line from my cheek down to my chin and then up to my lips. As he did so, my body caved in upon itself, all inhibitions melting away. I had no defences and my eyes closed in delightful anticipation.

  ‘This was it,’ he said, leaning forward to press his lips onto mine. Involuntarily, my mouth opened and I felt Rocco’s tongue gently probing my mouth, his kiss tender and urgent at the same time. His hands, which I’d witnessed doing magical things in a kitchen, were now working their magic on my head, as his fingers teased and massaged my hair. His body next to mine felt strong and hard and powerful. Sighing heavily, he pulled away from me, his hands holding firmly onto the tops of my arms, his eyes searching mine.

  ‘Are you okay with this?’

  Yes, yes, yes, my body screamed.

  ‘No!’ I screeched, surprising us both.

  ‘I work for you, Rocco; ours is, or should be a professional relationship. This isn’t right,’ I said, sounding more like Miss Moneypenny than I’d intended.

  He laughed, stroking my face gently with his thumbs.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, you know that. You want this as much as I do.’ So he had been picking up my less than subtle signals. ‘We can work around it. We are in the twenty-first century you know. These things happen all the time.’

  ‘Not to me they don’t,’ I said, wishing Rocco would stop the stroking thing. It was having the most disconcerting effect. ‘And what about Pandora?’ I blurted, relieved at getting the true reason for my reluctance out in the open.

  ‘What about Pandora?’ he countered.

  ‘Well, have you not considered her in your sordid little plan? She’s your girlfriend for heaven’s sake and just because I’m here and you know that I like you, you thought you’d take advantage of the situation and of me.’

  He pulled away, examining my face at arm’s length.

  ‘Is that really what you think of me? That I’d behave so appallingly? For your information, Pandora isn’t my girlfriend and I can’t think of one single reason why you’d think she is.’

  What? Now I was totally flummoxed. The pulse in my forehead was pumping maniacally.

  ‘She isn’t your girlfriend?’ I stuttered. ‘But I thought . . . I mean everyone knows she’s your girlfriend; she’s always around, in the background, and you’re always appearing together in the papers.’ Although thinking about it she hadn’t been around much these last couple of weeks. I stopped mid-witter.

  He snorted dismissively.

  ‘Does everyone? Well, if everyone had asked me, everyone would have known that Pandora was my girlfriend for all of about three days, when I first met her five years ago. Most people know that Pandora and I are mates. We walk out together, I think that’s the term. Yes, we go to functions together, mainly because I don’t have anyone else to go with and Pandora does love a celebrity do. Yes she can be a complete pain in the arse, taking an overbearing interest in what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with, turning up uninvited, but that’s pretty much all there is to our relationship. I promise.’

  Chastened, I felt tears prickle my eyes and the heat rush to my cheeks. Surely I couldn’t have got things quite so spectacularly wrong again? Had Rocco really uttered those words that were now whirling around my head? As I tried to make sense of it all, my phone shrilled from the depths of my handbag.

  ‘Do you want to get that?’ Rocco asked, tossing me my bag.

  ‘No, no,’ I said, bending down to switch the irritating noise off. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that . . . I thought . . . ’

  ‘Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you?’ He got up and paced around the room, the intimate atmosphere of only a few minutes ago broken. ‘It’s probably for the best, though. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you, of the situation.’ He looked across at me, eyebrows raised, anger stirring in his eyes. All the questions I needed answers to jostled for attention in my mind, but I knew, from Rocco’s expression, that they’d have to wait for another day.

  ‘Right, well then, I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, making for the door.

  Don’t go, I wanted to shout. Let’s rewind. To the point where you were touching my face, kissing my lips, let’s start all over again. But I knew the moment had been lost. Instead, I looked across at him.

  ‘Why don’t you sleep here?’ I said, gesturing to the empty twin bed next to me. ‘It might help with the insomnia. Please.’

  Chapter 18

  I’d gone to sleep, my eyes straining to stay open as long as possible just so as I could see the outline of Rocco’s body reclined on the bed, the strong lines of his back, within touching distance but a million miles away. I must have stayed in the same position all night because when my eyes pinged open the following morning, they immediately searched out his frame. It had gone.

  ‘Breakfast?’ His familiar disturbing voice came from behind me.

  There he was again. To think I’d spent the night holed up in a hotel room with one of the nation’s biggest sex symbols and only a brief enticing kiss had passed our lips.

  I shifted. Sunlight filtered through the blinds of the large picture windows, casting shadows across the bed. I lifted my hand to my forehead to shield the glare, and saw Rocco standing at the foot of the bed looking relaxed and resembling some kind of heavenly vision in black jeans and a white t-shirt.

  ‘Scrambled eggs and champagne?’ he offered, holding out a plate. ‘Actually,’ he said, helping himself to a forkful of the fluffy eggs, ‘they’re not bad. Could probably do with a bit more seasoning, but other than that, they’re quite tasty.’

  ‘Lovely, although I think I’d prefer a cup of tea if that’s possible.’

  ‘Coming right up.’ Rocco turned to the trolley and took the lid off the teapot, stirring a spoon around inside. I eased myself up to a sitting position, propping the pillows behind me. I took the tray from Rocco, trying to quell the feeling of disappointment that he was up, dressed and ready to go by the looks of him.

  ‘You’re up early.’

  He shrugged, glancing at his watch.

  ‘I did say I don’t sleep much. Besides, I’ve had a call from my restaurant manager. One of the chefs has called in sick, so I’m going to put in a few hours.’

  I nodded, trying to ignore that familiar swell of desire in my body, wanting nothing more than to be encased in Rocco’s arms, but now a worm of gnawing doubt was crawling around my stomach. The intimacy and affection of the previous evening had been replaced by a cool detachment. There was no mention of what had gone on between us or of the delightful kiss we shared. Was it just one of many for him, I wondered?

  I pushed my eggs around with my fork, my hunger evaporating.

  He leant down, ruffling my hair just as he did with Millie. ‘Right,’ he said, looking at his watch again, ‘I should get going. I’ll see you back at the house tonight. You’ve got plenty of stuff to be getting on with, haven’t you?’

  Proofs to check, appointments to confirm, emails to send, calls
to return and one patient hound waiting to be walked. I don’t know how, but I seemed to have inherited that job along with everything else that needed doing. Not that I minded, of course. It gave me time to think as I breathed in the country air and today, more than ever, I needed to think.

  I nodded.

  ‘We’ll need to talk about your contract sometime, too. I think it ends at the end of next week, doesn’t it?’

  My heart plunged recognising the business-like tone of Rocco’s voice. So was that it? My farewell gift? I hoped not. These last three months had been the happiest and most confusing of my life, but in less than two weeks Christmas would be here and with it the end of my time working with Rocco. It was almost too awful to contemplate.

  As Rocco picked up his keys from the side, my phone trilled. He passed me my handbag from the floor and I scrabbled inside, flipping it open and silencing its insistent calling with the press of a button.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Beth! Thank goodness. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’ Lexi’s voice was reproachful and uncharacteristically wobbly.

  ‘Oh, darling, sorry. I had a late night last night. It was the book awards with Rocco. Did I tell you? We’re still here in fact. Can I give you a call back later and then we can have a proper chat?’

  The sounds of muffled sobs wafted down the line.

  ‘Lexi?’ Fear gripped my stomach. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’

  The sounds of gulping and sniffing filled my ear. I could barely make out her words between the sobs, only the awful repetition of the words, ‘my baby, my baby.’

  I didn’t need to hear more. Instinctively, I knew exactly what had happened.

  ‘Oh, Lexi, no.’ I sighed, sinking onto the bed. I wanted to throw my arms around her there and then to take away her pain. ‘I’m so sorry, my darling. I’ll come straight down.’