New Year At The Boss's Bidding. Rachael Thomas

New Year’s Day so she couldn’t completely escape the party scene. After last year, Vanessa had been anxious but Tilly had reassured her she was over it all now. She knew that whatever happened she would be at the party to prove this to herself as well as her friends. It would be part of reinventing herself, just as starting the business had been.

      She dragged her mind away from thoughts of engagements and parties and focused on Xavier Moretti’s request for authentic Italian home cooking, something she really wanted to specialise in after the hours she’d spent in her Italian grandmother’s kitchen as a young girl. She smiled at the memories, determined to make this evening’s meal so special he and his guests would remember her name for a long time.

      Thoughts of the menu she was going to present them filled her mind as she followed the narrow driveway around the side of the impressive house and into a courtyard. She noticed the tyre tracks also went this way and assumed it was the caretaker preparing for Xavier Moretti’s arrival. She hoped that wouldn’t be too soon. She had planned on having the morning to herself, giving plenty of time to prepare for the New Year’s Eve dinner.

      Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t register that the tracks belonged to a sleek black sports car, now partly covered in snow. She parked alongside it and got out, totally in awe of her surroundings. She looked around the courtyard, her face upturned as she took in the grand house, not caring about the white flakes as they landed on her skin and settled in her red woolly hat.

      She pulled her scarf higher around her neck and resisted the urge to cross the cobbled courtyard and see what was in the other buildings. There would be time enough for that later. She had a van to unload and a kitchen to set up. There was still a lot of work to do ahead of tonight’s dinner party and with a regretful sigh she turned then stopped, as if suddenly frozen by Mother Nature herself.

      In the open doorway stood a man, so tall, handsome and self-assured she was certain, from the internet pictures she’d seen, it was Xavier Moretti. He watched her with an expression of confidence and, if she wasn’t mistaken, amusement. A hint of a smile lingered at the edges of his lips.

      His dark hair lifted slightly in the wind, the odd white flake settling starkly against the midnight blackness of his hair before dissolving away. His tanned complexion looked totally out of place against the backdrop of England’s winter weather and she could hardly drag her gaze from him. He looked so exotic with a hint of wildness that she found strangely exciting.

      Unused to being in the company of such a man, she struggled to regain control as she blushed, her stomach fluttering with what felt like excitement. On a newly discovered level, she knew it was more than that and fought hard to ignore it. She had to remain professional with this man, no matter what. This was the first time he’d hired Tilly’s Table for a dinner party and she needed more contracts like this to help her business grow, not to mention the validation his custom would give.

      He had certainly dressed for the part of country gentleman. The dark grey sweater, over a blue shirt looked warm and casual. Alarmingly, she couldn’t quite stop her gaze sliding down his long jeans-clad legs. What was the matter with her? She’d never lusted after a man. Ever. Finally gathering her wayward reactions, she looked at his face, saw his stern dark eyes watchful.

      ‘Hi, I’m Tilly Rogers and here to cater for Mr Moretti’s dinner party this evening.’ His increased smile did little to help the fluttering feeling but confirmed her suspicions. This was Xavier Moretti.

      ‘Buongiorno. Xavier Moretti,’ he offered, his heavy accent making the words far sexier than she’d ever heard any man sound, and the Italian greeting nudged at memories. ‘I had not expected the pleasure of your company so early, Ms Rogers. Tell me, do you always find such joy in snow?’

      A tingle of pleasure skittered down her spine, setting off alarm bells. What was happening to her?

      ‘It’s so nice to be out of London.’ She couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from her voice. ‘But I didn’t expect you to be here yet, Signor Moretti.’ She wouldn’t allow him to dampen her spirits—or spoil the plans she’d had of exploring once she’d finished her preparation.

      ‘Xavier, please.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You should come in and get warm.’

      ‘I’m fine.’ She shook her head and smiled, trying to ignore the tingle that continued to zip down her spine at the deep sexy tones of his voice. ‘Besides, I have things to bring in so I can start work.’

      He crossed the snow-dusted yard to hold the back door of the van open as she leant in to grab the first of several boxes. As he took the boxes from her, his fingers brushed hers. The sizzle that shot up her arm made her eyes widen and, unconsciously, she looked at him. The depths of his dark eyes held hers and for a moment it was as if time had stood still. As if nothing else in the entire world mattered.

      Her heartbeat seemed to slow and just the simple task of breathing became difficult. His handsome face didn’t give anything away. He looked composed and controlled but still she couldn’t break whatever it was. All she wanted to do was look at his high chiselled cheekbones, as if doing so would allow her to commit them to memory before locking the image behind a door labelled Danger.

      Why had she thought that? She was definitely out of her depth, but a man like him would never look twice at a woman like her. She averted her gaze, using the pretence of checking the contents of one of the boxes to divert his attention.

      ‘May I help?’ The three words held a hint of huskiness and to her dismay she blushed again, her stomach fluttering as he took the boxes inside. She watched him walk away, thankful she could think and breathe properly again.

      She pulled more boxes from the back of the van and followed him into the house. ‘I hope this snow stops,’ she said as she walked into the kitchen, where Xavier was stacking her things on a large table. She needed normal conversation to settle herself. How could he unbalance her so quickly?

      ‘Sì. But you are here at least. It would have been a shame not to sample your food, especially as it has come so highly recommended.’

      Tilly blushed, this time because she didn’t know how to deal with such a direct compliment, or was it guilt at having those wildly improper thoughts about him just moments ago?

      To cover her embarrassment, she put her boxes down and turned to survey the massive kitchen. From the stainless-steel pans hanging above the range to the copper moulds mounted on the walls it managed to combine perfectly the charm of past with the needs of the twenty-first century.

      ‘This place is amazing. I’m really looking forward to working in such a grand kitchen.’ Her enthusiasm for the old house couldn’t be subdued and for a moment he watched her, coolly assessing her and everything she did.

      Tilly scanned the high-ceilinged room, wishing she had a kitchen like this to work in for every job she took on. Sleek, modern kitchens, packed full with every gadget, were what she was normally provided with, but this room, with history breathing from its walls, practically filled her criteria for a perfect workplace.

      ‘Si, è bello,’ he said, as she turned her attention back to Xavier.

      Did he have to keep using sexy snippets of Italian? It tugged at bittersweet memories of happy times she’d spent in a small cottage kitchen in Tuscany, where herbs had dried in abundance and the warmth of the sun had seemed to shine constantly.

      When she went back to her van, the flurry of snow she’d arrived in had dwindled to almost nothing. Only the odd rogue snowflake whirled to the ground. At least that was one thing less to worry about.

      As she leaned into the van she moved aside the dress she’d bought for Vanessa’s engagement party tomorrow. Her heart hadn’t been in that task, but she didn’t want her past to spoil her friend’s happiness. She paused and touched the black dress through the plastic cover, remembering the wedding dress she should have worn exactly a year ago. The conversation she’d had as it had hung on her wardrobe door filtered unwittingly back from the past. The firmness of Jason’s voice still reached her as he’d told her he needed much more than just friendship, urging her to go out