The Italian's Christmas Proposition / Christmas Baby For The Greek. Cathy Williams

palm on her rib cage and the crazy tingling of her nipples in heated response fogged up her brain and she knew that she was beetroot-red.

      She wanted to moan and chewed down on her lip in horror, especially when he lazily circled his fingers on the woolly jumper, applying just the right amount of pressure.

      She had whipped off the woolly hat and in a matter of a few heart-stopping seconds he sifted his fingers into her hair and tilted her chin so that she was gazing up at him. Then he lowered his mouth to graze over hers…and all those things she had read about in magazines suddenly made complete sense. Lust…desire…whatever you wanted to call it…

      She had had one serious relationship that had, in retrospect, been nothing more than the optimism of youth to be loved and a need to be rescued from her abortive university career. It had lasted a matter of months and had certainly not prepared her for the high-voltage charge of craving that shot through her body when his lips met hers. Nothing she had ever experienced had. Confusion tore into her, darkening her eyes, sending a slight tremble through her body.

      Her vocal cords seemed to have dried up, but it didn’t matter, because Candice was smiling and Matteo had eased into charismatic gear and was saying all the right things, asking all the right questions, giving her cool, contained sister little chance of asking questions back.

      ‘I’d really love to hear about the two of you and how you met.’ She glanced at her watch, while from the sidelines Rosie breathed a sigh of relief. ‘But I’m going to catch up with some friends I haven’t seen for ages. Before the family descend tomorrow evening. By the way, they can’t wait to meet you. Hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t help but share the news with everyone—and get them to hold off on trying to set you up with Bertie.’

      ‘Actually,’ Rosie heard herself say, ‘I do mind, Diss. It was my place to tell them that Matteo and I are…er…going out.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose so but…’ Bright colour poured into Candice’s cheeks. For the first time in living memory, she was discomfited by her much younger sister, and Rosie realised that this was what she should have been doing all along. Taking control of her life and owning her decisions.

      ‘It’s done now,’ she said quietly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Oddly, Matteo’s hand cupping the nape of her neck gave her a certain amount of strength.

      ‘I do apologise, Rosie. I was just so excited that you’d actually met someone…’

      Candice shifted, aware that she was treading in unchartered waters, accustomed as she was to compliance from her younger sister.

      ‘Socially acceptable?’ Matteo interjected coolly. He tightened his hold on Rosie and she leant against him, loving the strength he imparted. He was as solid as a rock.

      ‘That’s not quite what I meant.’ Candice reddened.

      ‘My track record hasn’t been great,’ Rosie said appeasingly.

      Candice gave her a bright, relieved smile and moved towards her for a quick hug before standing back and looking at them both with her head to one side.

      ‘You two make a fantastic couple,’ she said. ‘I was quite prepared to thump you when Rosie told me that you’d let her down. I can’t tell you how happy I am for the both of you that whatever misunderstanding you had has been sorted. I can just tell that you’re meant for one another.’ She winked at her sister.

      ‘Hang on, Candice,’ Rosie interjected, horrified and embarrassed that ‘holiday fling’ was morphing into ‘marriage on the cards’. ‘We’ve really only just met! We’re still getting to know one another.’

      Candice was laughing, heading for the door. ‘That’s how all relationships begin, Rosie! Anyway, don’t wait up for me, guys. That car could pull a sled in an avalanche, but if I feel too tired to head back then I’ll just stay over with Mick and Carol. They’ve already invited me and they’ve got oodles of room. I’ll text and let you know.’

      With which she left in a flurry of air kisses, slamming the door behind her, leaving Rosie alone with Matteo.

      ‘So…’ He looked around him. ‘Nice place, Rosie.’ It was open-plan, big but not huge, and with all the clutter of hectic family life left behind from one holiday to the other—well-thumbed books, games, toys and all sorts of bits and pieces collected over the years. The floors were deep, rich wood and there was a clutter of artwork on the walls, pictures done by Rosie and her sisters. In the sitting area, colourful throws were tossed onto the deep, comfortable sofas, and in the corner the television was rumbling on, volume low, because Candice had forgotten to switch it off.

      Looking around her, Rosie saw the place through his eyes. It was the essence of upper-middle-class comfort.

      ‘Can I ask you something?’ She waited until he had turned full circle to look at her.

      ‘Ask away.’

      ‘I know you said you didn’t want me prying into your private life…’

      Matteo realised that her prying was a lot less objectionable than expected. He wondered whether that was because, for the first time in his life, he had opened up about his past with another human being. Of course, he had had very little choice, given the situation, and none of it mattered anyway, because they would be parting company before Santa dropped down the chimney with his sack of goodies, but it was still a little unnerving.

      He wasn’t the confiding sort and he grimly told himself that he wasn’t going to change any time soon. A leopard never changed its spots and his reticence was solidly ingrained. He had always lived his life with the assumption that, when it came to other people and his private life, information was purely on a need-to-know basis.

      Like now, was what sprang to mind.

      ‘Then don’t,’ he informed her silkily.

      ‘I was just curious to find out how you…ended up where you did.’

      ‘Rich and powerful?’ He sat on one of the squashy sofas, which was a lot more comfortable than the pale leather ones in his place in London. He thought of that halfway house and the boisterous fun he had had there all those years ago. He’d never thought he would ever laugh again after he’d been put into foster care, but he had. The place had been designed to broaden the horizons of the underprivileged kids who went there and it had worked, at least for him.

      ‘There’s that modesty of yours again,’ Rosie teased lightly, but her curiosity was getting the better of her fast and she joined him on the sofa, opposite end, but close enough to hear every word he was saying.

      ‘When you’re a kid in care, you have to make an effort not to slide down to the lowest common denominator,’ Matteo told her conversationally. ‘No one has any dreams for you. You have to make sure you have dreams for yourself or you sink to the bottom fast. I was lucky. I was bright. I learned the value of education.’ He shrugged. ‘I studied. I never skipped class. I set my sights on the only thing that mattered.’

      ‘What was that?’

      ‘Freedom. When you grow up without any advantages, money is the only thing that buys freedom, and by the age of eighteen I’d come to the conclusion that I would just have to make money and a lot of it. I was gifted at maths and got into Cambridge University. Got a first-class degree and was lucky enough to get taken on by a burgeoning investment bank. By twenty-five I’d made my first million. The bonuses were insane, but that life didn’t suit me. I don’t like taking orders or working for other people. So I jacked it in and began scouting around for companies to buy. Small IT companies, mainly. That’s the long and short of it. Rags to riches.’

      ‘Your opinion of me must be very low.’ She thought of her cosseted background, the trust fund that kept her going, the university career she had jettisoned because she had been bored stiff.

      Matteo looked at her. She had such a transparent face. Yes, he really should have a low opinion of her, but there was something about her…

      ‘You’re