‘Who are you ringing?
In the silent, deserted street Scott's voice felt intimate. His breath evaporated on the freezing air. Holly looked down at the snow, flummoxed. ‘I have to ring a friend, my flatmate Pippa. She was supposed to be here with me but she…um got pregnant.’
Great Holly, way to make an impression!
‘You were happy to come on your own though?’
Hot, unexpected tears burned at the back of her eyes. She blinked them back, feeling the muscles in her neck tensing. She shrugged. ‘Sure. Why not? It’ll be an experience.’
‘You don’t mind being away from your family for Christmas and New Year?’
‘No,’ she said, ignoring the urge to tell him the truth about why she’d been so keen to come here. The idea of going home for Christmas was so unpalatable she’d have gone to a Siberian work camp if it had been the only option on offer.
‘You’re lucky your family don’t mind you being away.’ His jaw tightened, a shuttered look briefly obscuring his features.
She snorted. ‘They don’t mind, no. So you don’t have a choice?’
‘Nope, I’ve got to fly back to London, act as referee, make sure no one actually kills anyone.’ He sighed and kicked at the snow. ‘Frankly I’d rather stay here and work.’
‘It doesn’t sound much fun.’ She grimaced in sympathy but didn’t want to delve deeper. Confidences invited confidences and she couldn’t go there.
Her mother and her new partner would spend Christmas blind drunk. It might be all right for a while, until the rowing started. A shiver ran down her spine and she hugged her arms around her body, head pounding.
‘Here.’ Scott took his ski jacket off and put it over her shoulders.
The warmth enveloped her like a hug and tears threatened again. She blinked them back fiercely.
Don't be nice to me, just don't.
‘You need to be careful out here in the cold.’ Scott frowned. If he'd seen her glistening eyes he chose not to mention it. ‘The temperatures at night can be dangerously low. Barely a season goes by without a drunken tourist having to be fished out of the frozen river in the morning. The ice is treacherous. You girls need to take more care. Particularly if you’re drinking shots.’
You girls?
She glared at him. How dare he give her a lecture about alcohol? As if she hadn’t grown up with the consequences, had them thrust in her face every day…
Ok this was good. Being angry she could handle. So there were a few chemical reactions happening between them. The guy had good pheromones. So what? Nothing would happen.
You need to take more care.
She did nothing but bloody well take care. As soon as she was old enough she was cleaning up vomit, encouraging her mother to change, to wash her hair, to maintain the semblance of a normal home for all the prying eyes and snoops. Terror at the idea of being put into care meant she perfected the art of pretending everything was okay. Then the years trying to get her mother to AA meetings before the gut-wrenching conclusion she never would because she simply didn’t want to.
‘Right,’ she replied, voice tight and her throat aching with the words she wasn't saying. Her heart felt as cold and heavy as the patches of thick ice on the path. She didn't want his advice, didn't want his… Well, maybe she did want his jacket. It was bloody freezing after all.
‘Are you okay?’ The warmth in his tone and the absence of a mocking, teasing air made her almost think about confiding.
Almost.
‘I’m fine thanks, really pleased to be here.’ She smiled a tight smile. ‘Thanks for giving me the opportunity to work here.’
Fine, so she deserved the raised eyebrow she got for that, it sounded insincere even to her own ears. She met his gaze levelly, defiantly, flashing a ‘no entry’ sign as politely as she knew how.
It was a look she’d practiced and used to great effect with teachers prying into her home life when she was a child and she’d carried it on into adulthood. It had been a useful tool in her defence arsenal.
‘I’m thinking you don’t normally get to have much fun, Holly.’ The flirty edge was back in his voice and a spark danced in his eyes. Clearly she needed to practice her 'piss-off look'. Either that or he was immune. That was a scary thought.
‘Fun?’ She ground her teeth, immensely grateful they were almost at the chalet.
‘Yes, you know. That thing where you relax, let your guard down, lose control.’
‘I never lose control,’ she replied, pulling his jacket more tightly around her body.
The snow-covered porch of Chalet Repos was a welcome sight. She huddled in the doorway as he pulled out his keys to let them into the basement staff quarters.
‘That sounds like a challenge,’ he said. His eyes locked on hers with an intensity that was dark and probing, seeing…what? Far too much, anyway.
She couldn't look away, the connection between them mesmerising her, accompanied by a tug of desire so visceral it took her breath away.
Flakes of snow fell, softly tickling her nose and resting on her eyelashes.
‘It's snowing again.’ She broke away first, stamping her boots on the doormat to dislodge the snow.
Scott laughed and turned the key in the lock. ‘Call that snow? Just you wait until we get the really heavy falls. Oh, I meant to ask you - whose was the bra you pretended to remove?’
The change of subject startled her. She stared at him, flushing again as something knowing and very, very sexy flashed in his dark eyes.
He held the door open and she slipped past him, the warmth of the chalet enveloped her as she stepped inside, senses tingling and skin super sensitised. His hand lightly brushed her arm when he took his jacket back. She started violently. Had he done that on purpose?
‘Err, what makes you so sure it wasn't mine?’ The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them. Never ask a question you don't want the answer to.
Too late.
Scott couldn’t help but grin. Holly intrigued him. He knew he should maintain a professional distance but what the hell, it was fun playing with her. She was a puzzle to be solved, a challenge to rise to. On the surface she seemed to be acting a part, that line about being grateful for the opportunity had been falser than her little strip routine.
Usually he hated that kind of superficiality but her eyes had a depth and intelligence that blew him away. Intuition told him there was more to her than met the eye, although he had to admit what met the eye – the lush curves of her body and wavy auburn hair - was an absolute treat.
Clearly all was not well back home. Well he could certainly relate to that.
Generally the chalet girls the agency sent him were a hardy breed who partied like it was their vocation. They worked efficiently enough so they could get maximum time on the ski slopes and in the bars at night. Some were looking for flings, others looking for rings.
Holly didn't fit the Hooray Henrietta mould.
Nor did she fit the bra she’d so carefully tried to pass off as her own.
‘It was too small,’ he replied bluntly, trying not to laugh too openly, watching the deepening flush of her cheeks.