WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel (7 page)

That feeling Lexi had mentioned. The one that tells you you’ve found that special person. For the first time in my life I felt it.

Rocco stood up, his long rounded fingers splayed upon the oak table. Did I recognise something in his eyes too? Something unsaid? I sighed heavily. Could my life really get any worse? I’d just fallen hook, line and sinker for someone totally unattainable. But then I supposed Rocco was used to women falling at his feet. That’s what he did for a living. Chef, restaurateur, celebrity and professional player.

I’d been so certain that I wouldn’t be one of those adoring zillions. How, I wondered, had he managed to reel me in?

Chapter 8

‘God, you look rough! Are you sure you’re okay?’ Rocco asked early one morning, a few weeks into the shooting, as we stood huddled in the grounds of Zak’s country manor at some godforsaken hour.

No, I’m feeling pretty shitty actually. My head is a complete fog, I have a completely irrational and pathetic crush on you, my boss, my family are all behaving completely bizarrely, I am on the verge of an emotional breakdown and at this precise moment, I would much prefer to be tucked up in my bed. Thank you.

Of course, I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I smiled as sweetly as was humanly possible in the sub-zero temperatures.

‘Fine, thanks. Never better.’ I wrapped my arms around me, slapping myself heartily on the sleeves of my puffa jacket in my best ‘
isn’t this the greatest thing to be outdoors doing outdoorsy things’
impression.

‘Hmmm,’ said Rocco, looking unconvinced. He glanced at me through narrowed eyes before walking away and joining Zak at the edge of the water.

I had to admit the gently swaying brown waters of Zak’s fishing lake did have a hypnotic quality. My gaze followed the patterns of the swirls, my thoughts distracted by Lexi and, more insistently, by Rocco, who was now sitting a few feet away, attending to his fishing line and the relative merits of the various bait sitting at his feet. Zak was sitting alongside him and if you didn’t know that one of them was a renowned master chef and the other a famous rock guitarist, you certainly wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at them, or by listening in to their conversation. Rocco was dressed in tan cords, a red and black checked shirt and a shabby old Barbour coat. He looked every inch the country squire but also incredibly sexy in the process. Zak was dressed in a similar get-up.

They reminded me of two schoolboys, best mates, oblivious to the cares of the outside world, simply happy in their shared passion for fishing. Quite frankly, I didn’t get it. What exactly was the fascination in sitting on a grassy verge, in the bitter cold, whiling away the hours at a snail’s pace, waiting for some passing fish to play ball.

‘Isn’t this just the best way to spend the day?’ Rocco looked across at me and grinned. I was beginning to suspect he had extra-sensory powers; he was making a habit of answering my unvoiced questions.

‘Yeah, great,’ I said, trying and failing to sound enthused, but in all honesty this was killing me. My bottom was parked on a checked blanket on the side of the lake, the cool dampness penetrating through into my bones. My fingers clasped the mug of coffee I’d been nursing for most of the morning.

‘Not too cold are you?’

‘No,’ I fibbed, having never felt colder in my life. It was f-f-f-flipping . . . f-f-f-freezing. In fact, I was beginning to shiver so much that I had to ease myself up from my uncomfortable position on the floor before I seized up completely. My joints protesting, I wandered over to where the film crew were setting up to start filming.

‘Are we about ready to go?’ Surely we must be. It felt as if we’d been here a lifetime. Since I’d started working with Rocco, time had flown by, but for some reason things were dragging interminably this morning. Either that or my watch had stopped.

‘Yep,’ Dave said, looking up from his camera. ‘All ready. You all right?’ he asked, looking concerned. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

God, what was the matter with everyone this morning? So I didn’t look my best in these near arctic conditions, but then who would? Pandora, I supposed. I could just imagine her in a fur-lined cape and boots looking suitably ice-queenish. Why didn’t they all just get on with what they should be doing instead of fretting over me? I nodded and sank deeper into my anorak.

‘Fine, just a bit cold that’s all. Let’s make a start then, shall we?’ Come on, come on, I was yelling inside.

Rocco and Zak had no sense of urgency. The pair of them were completely chilled in the relaxed sense, whereas I was chilled in the refrigerator sense. They were doing what they enjoyed most. Fishing, smoking, laughing, and sharing tales, mainly about the one that got away, and their previous great outdoor adventures. I knew it would make for great TV, if only for a few minutes, even if the actual filming seemed to be taking hours. The plan was that Rocco would catch a handsome brown trout or two and then we’d retire to the cottage so that he could show the viewers how to clean, prepare and cook the fish. You know the kind of thing, a hundred and one delicious ways with a trout. Only today the stars of the show
—
the fish that is, not Rocco, were refusing to blow bubbles.

‘It sometimes happens like that,’ said Zak. ‘That’s one of the joys of fishing. You never know if you’re going to come home with a huge catch or absolutely nothing. Really it’s not so much about catching fish, but the whole experience of being outside, at one with nature.’

I nodded sagely, as if I knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘At one with nature. Hey, that would make a great title for the book and TV series, don’t you think, Beth?’

I looked across at him. It was becoming more and more unnerving, how every time I looked at Rocco a strange sensation overtook me. Cold. Hot. Sweaty. Tingly. Today’s sensations, though, were like nothing I’d ever felt before. I was suddenly seeing two of him, both images smiling, two pairs of eyes beaming at me, looking sickeningly gorgeous. And then I noticed a different expression upon his face, or faces, one of uncertainty quickly followed by a look of terror. That’s when my knees buckled beneath me, my boots lifted off the ground and I landed with a thud on my backside, before sliding gracefully feet first down a muddy incline heading straight into the deep, cold water.

* * *

‘Ouch! Oooh, my head!’

Some hours later I shifted uneasily beneath the duvet, my hand instinctively reaching up to the scratches on my forehead, from when I was attacked by a particularly unfriendly bunch of thistles, so I was told. My bottom felt bruised and every other part of my anatomy ached with a stinging vengeance, apart from my head which simply throbbed.

‘Don’t even try to move, just lie back and relax.’ said Rocco, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, concern etched upon his face.

‘Oh God, I’m sorry. Did you catch any fish? What about the filming?’ The dawning realisation of the havoc I must have caused hit me hard in the chest.

Rocco shook his head and smiled.

‘You put paid to that, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh no,’ I protested, sighing. Any kind of movement seemed to shoot arrows of pain all through my body. ‘You didn’t need to go to all this trouble.’ I looked around the pretty room, a surge of relief engulfing me. I was safe. All I could remember was the penetrating dampness and that bloody cold. In comparison, being tucked up in the cosy, light bedroom felt blissful. Well, as blissful as you can feel when an almighty hangover moves in uninvited without having even brought a bottle along to the jamboree.

‘All this fuss. I’m fine, really. Just a silly fall, that’s all, I must have lost my footing.’ Was that what happened? Nothing was making sense at all. ‘Where’s Zak?’

‘Don’t worry about it; the fish will still be there another day. And Zak’s gone home now. He hung around a while to make sure you were okay. You gave us all quite a fright.’

I grimaced. I was supposed to be here to help Rocco. So why, with each passing day, was I feeling more and more like a liability?

‘It was a bit more than a fall, Beth. Your temperature was sky high and you were talking gibberish.’ So no change then, I thought, smiling inwardly. ‘The doctor seemed to think you may be suffering from nervous exhaustion.’

‘Doctor? What doctor?’

This was getting weirder by the moment.

‘Do you not remember? He examined you earlier. You spoke to him, but to be honest you weren’t making a lot of sense. Kept going on about Lexi and Martin? All sorts of strange things were coming from out of your mouth.’

My head hit the pillow again with a thud. I hoped I hadn’t let slip anything too embarrassing. Particularly anything about Rocco. I mean, the sort of thoughts I’d been harbouring weren’t fit for public consumption.

‘The doctor took some blood tests just to be on the safe side, but he reckons a couple of days rest and you should be back on your feet again.’

‘Look I’m sorry, Rocco,’ I said, my mind assaulted by the long list of jobs that still needed to be done. Gingerly I attempted the getting out of bed manoeuvre again. My feet found the floor, but my head was spinning like a whirling dervish. ‘I’m feeling much better now,’ I said, trying to convince us both. ‘I’ll make a start on reorganising the filming, shall I?’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ he said, pushing me gently back down again. ‘And everything’s taken care of anyway. Sylvia’s downstairs, she’s desperate to come up and see you, but I wanted to make sure you were up to visitors first.’ He smiled, shaking his head as if he were having a joke at my expense. ‘I’ll send her up with a cup of tea.’

‘Oh, that sounds wonderful, but let me phone the agency first. I can get them to send a replacement. They’ve got plenty of good people on their books. You won’t want me hanging around here making a nuisance of myself.’

Rocco stood up and put his hands on his hips in a display of artful masculinity.

‘Are you always this difficult? Would you please just do as you are told and rest? Despite what you may think, I can manage perfectly well without you for a few days. I certainly don’t want to be bringing anyone new in at this stage. We can start filming again next week when you’re better.’ He ran his hand through his dark curls. ‘Besides, I need to be up in town for a few days anyway, to sort out some business.’

‘Oh, right.’ I sighed. Really, it would be an ideal time for me to leave then. He didn’t have to act as my nursemaid, just because he felt lumbered with me. And the good thing about temping is that there is always another contract round the corner. Besides, putting some distance between Rocco and me would probably be a good thing. Being in such close proximity was, I decided, seriously damaging to my emotional well-being. From my disadvantaged position on the bed, I said,

‘Well, in that case I think I’ll go and stay with my sister for a while.’

He clasped my hands in his, raising his eyebrows in barely disguised irritation.

‘Your sister who is newly engaged and newly pregnant and is busy making plans for a wedding?’ He really knew how to turn the knife. ‘That sister? You need some peace and quiet, Beth, and you’ll get that here. So that’s an end to it. Okay?’ He sounded very matter-of-fact and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to argue with him. ‘Sylvia will keep an eye on you while I’m away; she’ll keep you fed and watered. And I expect you to be here when I get back with a little more colour in your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes again.’

I gulped. Why was he being so nice to me? If he carried on like this there was a danger of me dissolving into tears.

‘Do we have an agreement?’

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

‘Good.’ He bent down and kissed me gently on the forehead, a hint of musky aftershave wafting from his shirt collar, his light covering of stubble grazing my cheek. It was only a kiss. A chaste, well-intentioned get-well kiss from a boss to his employee. But if I was in any doubt about the way I felt about Rocco, that feather-light kiss made up my mind once and for all. I’d fallen, and in a very big way.

* * *

I’d sometimes fantasised about being confined to bed with a none too threatening illness, something that required complete bed-rest, endless cups of tea and ample quantities of TLC. In reality, after the first twenty-four hours, when I’d got over the swings in temperature and aching bones, I was bored out of my mind. It’s one thing to be at home with nothing to do, but being in someone else’s place is another thing entirely. All I could do was sit there and think, which in the circumstances, was the last thing in the world I needed to do.

I was able to reflect on why I had taken Lexi’s news so badly. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy for her, quite the opposite, in fact. Now that I’d got my head around the fact that my baby sister was having a baby of her own, it was really rather thrilling. If that was what she wanted, then of course I’d be happy for her, but the trouble was I wasn’t certain Lexi knew what she wanted. All her life she’d lurched from one seemingly great idea to another, sometimes with great success but at other times with more dismal results; but marriage and a baby wasn’t something you could easily turn your back on if things didn’t go according to plan. At some indefinable point over the last couple of months, she’d turned into the ‘I know my own mind and what I want from my life,’ sister, and I’d turned into the ‘where the hell is my life leading, what should I do, where will I end up next,’ sister. Without even realising it, we’d performed a complete role-reversal.

And if I was being honest with myself I suppose I was a little put out that it wasn’t me overflowing with excitement about getting engaged and married and having a baby. Only now could I admit to myself that I wanted all of those things. A little aggrieved that, at five years older than Lexi, no one had ever felt such depths of emotion about me that they felt inclined even to ask. I didn’t realise it until then, but I assumed being the eldest, the sensible one, I’d be the first to get married and give Mum and Dad their first grandchild, but now Lexi had upstaged me, taking away even the possibility. Chiding myself for such uncharitable thoughts I swung my legs out of bed and slipped on a heavy towelling robe borrowed from Rocco. I breathed in the erotic smell, nuzzling my face into the softness, when I heard Sylvia’s tinkling voice at the door.