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

his mouth against her cheek. ‘How can I convince you, my darling, that this isn’t just a fling for me?’

      Rosie looked at him. Her skin burned where he had brushed it with his mouth. His arm, hooked around her waist, was doing all sorts of things to her body, making her squirm.

      In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t quite appreciated just how stunning the guy was. Raven-black hair, bronzed skin and eyes as dark as midnight. She knew that she was breathing quickly, just as she knew that she wasn’t thinking straight. She was conscious of her femininity in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

      ‘Um…’

      ‘This feels like the start of something big, Bob,’ Matteo said in a darkly persuasive voice. ‘I would have mentioned it to you but I didn’t want to jinx it.’

      ‘So romantic,’ Margaret was saying with approval.

      ‘Isn’t it?’ Matteo commented neutrally. He tightened his hand on Rosie’s waist and gave her the tiniest of squeezes, nudging her ever closer, thigh against thigh, his arm resting just below her breast now.

      Rosie felt the tightening of her nipples. She had no intention of catching her sister’s eye but she could feel Candice looking at the pair of them and heaven only knew what was going through her head. Candice was astute but it had to be said that this dark stranger, dragged into a charade not of his making, was doing a fine job of pulling it off and her only question was why?

      ‘You should head back to your hotel.’ Matteo’s primary objective at this point was to put distance between Bob, Margaret and the combustible situation unfolding in front of them. ‘Long day tomorrow finalising our deal.’

      ‘You’re getting a good man in this one,’ Bob said warmly, moving in to shake Rosie’s hand. ‘Glad everything’s sorted, lad. Misunderstandings can get out of control! Nice to see you’ve got the makings of a family man within you. A good woman is always the making of any man.’ He chuckled and gave his wife a hug.

      Matteo thought it best to speed things along. He had no idea what was going on but the threat of it all blowing up was a distinct possibility and one he intended to divert with everything at his disposal. He mentally bid a temporary farewell to his Venetian villa that was waiting for him the following evening. It wasn’t going to happen.

      ‘So they say,’ he murmured as he thought ahead to how he intended to squash whatever machinations were afoot. ‘Comprehensively’ was the word that sprang to mind.

      ‘Hope we get to spend some time with the two of you before we head back to Yorkshire. Family is everything, like I say, and I wouldn’t mind raising a glass or two to celebrate young love.’

      Matteo murmured, nodded, half-smiled, brushed his lips against Rosie’s hair… He exerted every ounce of charm to smooth over the sudden, alarming pot holes that had surfaced on the very smooth road. He walked them to the glass door, where they were waiting to be met, the little blonde still by his side because question time was about to begin.

      Rosie watched with mounting dread as Matteo disposed of her sister with ruthless speed. He was the essence of charm, even though his hand on her waist carried the hint of a threat that sent shivers racing up and down her spine. She could hardly blame him. She listened in mutely as he smoothed over Candice’s doubts, laying it on thick until Candice was smiling and telling him how relieved she was that things were back on track, apologising for the fuss and then, somehow, laughingly blaming Rosie for having given her the wrong impression.

      Rosie couldn’t believe the way events had transpired. Who knew that her five-foot-ten, ice-queen sister could let rip with such uncharacteristic drama? Candice was the one who flinched if someone raised their voice slightly too loudly in a restaurant. She moaned about people shouting into their mobile phones in public! She’d once told Emily off, when they had just been kids, for laughing too much.

      Candice out of the way, Matteo dropped his hand, stood back and surveyed the blonde coldly.

      ‘So,’ he said flatly, ‘Let’s find somewhere nice and cosy and private and have a little chat, shall we?’

      Rosie quailed. The man was sexy, dangerous…and from the expression on his face in the presence of his quarry.

      ‘I’m really sorry, I—I know how this must look…’ she stammered, only dimly aware that he was leading her out of the crowded foyer. She found she couldn’t quite meet those wintry eyes.

      ‘Do you, now?’ Matteo purred.

      Where was he taking her? She cast a desperate backward glance behind her, back down to the marbled foyer with the tall Christmas tree. The low buzz of curious voices that had greeted the little scene earlier had died down but there would still be curious eyes looking to see whether it might kick off again.

      ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘Somewhere private,’ Matteo murmured, voice as smooth as silk and as razor-sharp as a knife, ‘Where we can have our cosy little chat.’

      ‘I’ve already apologised…’ Her legs, however, were obeying his command. She stood up and began walking alongside him, hyper-aware of his presence. There was a leashed power to the guy that made her quiver with a combination of apprehension, downright fear and a weird sort of breathless excitement that stemmed from a place she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

      He wasn’t saying a word and seemed unaware of the cluster of well-heeled people around him that parted to allow him passage as if in the presence of royalty.

      It was extraordinary.

      She had no idea where they were going but eventually they reached a door which he slid open, standing back to allow her to brush past him.

      She’d never been into this particular inner sanctum, even though she had been coming to this very resort with her parents for as long as she could remember, before they’d bought their own chalet just a bit further up the slopes.

      It was a large, square room, richly panelled, with a gleaming wooden floor that was largely covered by an expanse of expensive, silk Persian rug. A cluster of deep, comfortable sofas was positioned here and there and a long bar extended along the back of one panelled wall. Rosie assumed this was the chill-out area for the senior management who ran the resort, somewhere where they could relax and unwind, away from the clamour of what might be going on outside.

      She stared around her and, when she settled her eyes back on Matteo, it was to find that he had made himself at home and poured a whisky for himself. Needless to say, there was no offer of any form of refreshment for her.

      ‘Okay,’ Rosie began. ‘I know what you’re going to say and I’m sorry.’

      ‘First, you have no idea what I’m going to say, and secondly, if you’re sorry now, then you’re going to be a whole lot sorrier when I’m through with you and your accomplice.’

      ‘Accomplice?’ She gazed at him, bewildered, and then wished she hadn’t because he seemed to have the most peculiar effect on her. He made her feel as though the room was beginning to spin and if she didn’t sit down fast she would topple to the ground in an undignified heap.

      ‘The blonde with a voice that could shatter glass. Sit.’

      A voice that could shatter glass? That was a first when it came to a description of her sister. Of either of her sisters, for that matter. Both were tall, sophisticated and impossibly beautiful in an ice-queen kind of way. Whereas she was… Rosie: short, way too plump because of the siren call of chocolate and all things sweet, with shoulder-length blonde hair that refused to be tamed, breasts far too abundant to be fashionable…

      She recalled the heat of his hand so close to her breast and shivered.

      Conscious of each and every one of those downsides, and aware of those cool, cool eyes on her, she haltingly headed for the closest