A Kiss At Midnight: New Year at the Boss's Bidding / Slow Dance with the Best Man / The Greek Doctor's New-Year Baby

He let her go, resisting the temptation to taste those full lips, but her eyes looked so full of desire, so brimming with passion yet to be tasted, it was almost impossible. She was right about being his hired help and he’d respect that—for now.

She bent and brushed her hand over the champagne mark on her dress and he knew it was to avoid looking at him, preventing him seeing what had been shining from her eyes. She couldn’t hide that raw passion and desire. It was too late.

‘Then why are you here tonight? Why aren’t you with this Jason, telling him how much you love him?’ he taunted mercilessly. He couldn’t help himself. Natalie Rogers was doing untold things to him, forcing a new emotion that felt very much like jealousy to the fore.

She stood up straight, the worry of her dress abandoned, but her irritation with him clearly not. ‘Need I remind you again? I’m here, working—for you.’

The feisty tone of her voice brought a smile to his face, which, to his amusement, antagonised her further. ‘More champagne? You cannot toast in the New Year with an empty glass. Midnight is minutes away—as is the end of your contract.’

For a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Her eyes sparked with passion-induced anger and he wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman. The black silk of her dress seemed sculpted over her breasts, which rose and fell with each breath.

She was beautiful. Perfect.

She was also a reminder of all he didn’t deserve to have.

‘Just one more glass.’ Her husky whisper pulled him back from those thoughts, from the need to punish and deprive himself of happiness or love. He didn’t deserve either, not when one mistake—his mistake—had snatched Paulo’s life and with it the happiness of an entire family.

‘Grazie,’ he said, his voice rough and rasping as he pushed the demons away, not wanting them tormenting him tonight. He poured the last of the champagne into each flute, feeling her gaze on him. What would she think of him if she knew the truth? Would the hot sizzle of desire she couldn’t quite conceal still radiate from her? Or would she be like Carlotta? Cold and disgusted?

‘Thank you.’ She took the flute of champagne from him but couldn’t meet his gaze, her long dark lashes lowering over her eyes, locking him out.

He strode over to the fire, placed his champagne on the mantelpiece and tossed another log onto the fire, stoking the flames, making them leap, matching the way his desire for her had burst into life from the thought of just one kiss.

‘You must be regretting taking this contract.’ He spoke firmly as he looked into the fire, its heat matching that which still pumped around his body.

‘I took the job because I didn’t want to be forced to party and celebrate—or remember.’ Her voice was unwavering, the husky whisper of moments ago gone, replaced by total strength.

‘He is a fool.’ He growled the words out and turned to look at her. ‘To throw away a woman like you.’

‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ she said, and moved towards him, drawn by the warmth of the fire. The clock in the hall chimed, marking the last fifteen minutes of the year, and she looked up at him. ‘We’d been together since school and I suppose we drifted into wedding plans, not wanting to disappoint our families. It was always expected we’d marry.’

The resigned tone of her voice, the acceptance of what she’d just said didn’t fit with her earlier declarations of love for the man who’d left her. ‘Yet you love him still?’

‘Yes.’ She looked down at her glass before taking a sip. ‘He was my childhood sweetheart. I will always love him.’

‘You should not waste your love on a man who walked away from you.’ Involuntarily he took a step towards her, the connection between them strengthening. They both knew the pain of rejection, but it had been he who’d pushed Carlotta from his life after she’d all but rejected him.

‘And do you speak from experience, Signor Moretti?’

The use of his surname shocked him momentarily, but he knew what she was trying to do. As the minutes ticked away the year and the spark of attraction increased, she wanted to instil propriety into the moment, remind him—and herself—of why they were here like this at all.

‘I was involved in a racing accident that left me badly hurt and no longer the kind of company a glamorous model keeps. I couldn’t offer Carlotta the luxurious lifestyle she craved any longer.’ He wanted to tell her more, tell her he knew what it felt like to be rejected, but those words failed him. ‘When I told her we were over she simply walked away and into the arms of another man.’

The soft gasp of shock that came from her lips made guilt rush through him and he turned away from her, looking again into the flames. He sensed her next to him before he felt her hand on his arm.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered softly.

What was she sorry for? His failed relationship, the accident, or forcing him to remember? ‘It was for the best.’ He snapped the words out, hoping to kill the conversation.

‘When did it happen? The accident, I mean.’ The tentative question nudged the memories back a little as her husky voice began to stir his desire again.

‘Summer. Three years ago.’ He looked into her eyes, saw the blue darken until they looked like a midnight sky. He was beginning to drown, pulled by an unknown force towards something he knew he shouldn’t sample, let alone have.

‘You sent her away because you were in hospital?’ Incredulity poured from her, but he wondered what she would have done, faced with his rage and furious need to lash out. Would she have flinched, her face unable to hide her disgust when she saw his injuries for the first time? Would she have stayed around him as his mood had blackened and his guilt deepened?

‘I was not the man she’d met, and couldn’t offer the globetrotting life she sought. So I ended it.’ The words sounded like a snarl as he slipped back in time, seeing again the moment that once lovely face had screwed up in selfish pity. ‘Grazie a Dio! It was for the best.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ The gentle concern in Tilly’s eyes was almost too much. He was glad Carlotta had revealed her true self to him. It was just sad that it had taken such an accident to show him the kind of woman she was.

‘When should you have married?’ He needed to deflect attention from himself, prevent the horror of those months coming out into the open and infesting his dreams as they always did when he thought too much.

‘An hour after Jason told me the engagement was off.’

* * *

Tilly clenched her teeth, biting back the tears. She couldn’t let them fall now. Not here. Not in front of this man. She’d thought she was over Jason, over the way he’d called everything off so suddenly.

‘Dio mio.’

The expletive was hotly followed by rapid Italian words she couldn’t understand and her need to give to tears was swamped by the urge to laugh—in a way she hadn’t done for months. How could she talk about it to Xavier and even find it funny? It was this place and being marooned from reality.

Exactly a year ago she should have married the man she’d believed to be her Mr Right. He’d been safe, comfortable, someone she’d grown up with, then he’d catapulted her into a new life, telling her she should live for the moment, as he’d done. Was that what she was fighting against now? A moment with an Italian playboy who set her pulse racing?

Xavier stepped close to her and reached out his hand, stroking the backs of his fingers across her cheek. The air cracked with tension as she continued to resist giving in to the temptation of a kiss. Seconds slowed to minutes as he moved closer still. So close she could smell his fresh masculine scent, taste it on her tongue.

She ached to be kissed by him, to feel his lips against hers.

From the hallway the old grandfather clock sounded the first strike of midnight. It chimed through the charged air and the small clock on the mantelpiece echoed it, ending the year and her contract.

‘Midnight,’ she whispered softly, unable to do anything else, the atmosphere was so laden and intense. His gaze fell to her lips and every breath she dragged in seemed to burn.

The chimes continued, showing out the old year and ringing in the new. Everything became hazy, except Xavier’s handsome face. Had the world stopped turning?

‘Buon Anno Nuovo.’ His sensually deep voice sent ripples of tingling awareness all over her.

‘Happy New Year.’ Her soft barely-there whisper was almost drowned out by the thudding of her heart and the last stroke of midnight. She had to go right now. She wasn’t ready for this. Before he could do anything to stop her, she left the room, carelessly putting her glass down as she passed a table.

‘Natalie.’

He called after her, but she didn’t stop until she was next to the Christmas tree he’d wanted banished from the house. Then she sensed him behind her and turned.

‘Don’t run from me, Natalie, not tonight.’

She looked at him, unable to decide if the undercurrent of vulnerability she heard in his voice was real. ‘I have to go.’

‘Stay.’

Was she really afraid to celebrate the New Year with a kiss or was she running because she wanted to be kissed? Would she regret it if she left now? Her heart thudded harder than ever as she looked at him. Her mouth felt dry, as if not a single drop of champagne had passed her lips.