The Italian's Christmas Secret

Keira slowed down as they drove past a small house on which an illuminated Santa Claus was driving his sleigh above a garish sign proclaiming Best Bed & Breakfast on Dartmoor! The trouble was that she wasn’t used to men like Matteo Valenti—she didn’t imagine a lot of people were. She’d watched people’s reactions whenever he emerged from the limousine to cast his eye over yet another dingy hotel which was up for sale. She’d witnessed women’s gazes being drawn instinctively to his powerful physique. She’d watched their eyes widen—as if finding it hard to believe that one man could present such a perfect package, with those aristocratic features, hard jaw and sensual lips. But Keira had been up close to him for several days and she realised that, although he looked pretty perfect on the surface, there was a brooding quality underneath the surface which hinted at danger. And weren’t a lot of women turned on by danger? As she clamped her fingers around the steering wheel, she wondered if that was the secret of his undeniable charisma.

But now wasn’t the time to get preoccupied about Matteo Valenti, or even to contemplate the holidays which were fast approaching and which she was dreading. It was time to acknowledge that the snowstorm was getting heavier by the second and she was losing control of the big car. She could feel the tyres pushing against the weight of the accumulating drifts as the road took on a slight incline. She could feel sweat suddenly beading her brow as the heavy vehicle began to lose power and she realised that if she wasn’t careful...

The car slid to a halt and Keira’s knuckles whitened as she suddenly realised there were no distant tail lights in front of them. Or lights behind them. She glanced in the mirror as she turned off the ignition and forced herself to meet the furious black stare which was being directed at her from the back seat.

‘What’s going on?’ he questioned, his tone sending a shiver rippling down Keira’s spine.

‘We’ve stopped,’ she said, turning the key again and praying for them to start moving but the car stayed exactly where it was.

‘I can see that for myself,’ he snapped. ‘The question is, why have we stopped?’

Keira gulped. He must have realised why. Did he want her to spell it out for him so he could shovel yet more blame on her? ‘It’s a heavy car and the snow is much thicker than I thought. We’re on a slight hill, and...’

‘And?’

Face facts, she told herself fiercely. You know how to do that. It’s a difficult situation, but it’s not the end of the world. She flicked the ignition and tried moving forward again but despite her silent prayers, the car stubbornly refused to budge. Her hands sliding reluctantly from the wheel, she turned round. ‘We’re stuck,’ she admitted.

Matteo nodded, biting back the angry exclamation which was on the tip of his tongue, because he prided himself on being good in an emergency. God knew, there had been enough of those over the years to make him an expert in crisis management. Now was not the time to wonder why he hadn’t followed his instincts and demanded a male driver who would have known what he was doing, instead of some slip of a girl who didn’t look strong enough to control a pushbike, let alone a car this size. Recriminations could come later, he thought grimly—and they would. First and foremost they needed to get out of here—and to do that, they needed to keep their wits about them.

‘Where exactly are we?’ he said, speaking slowly as if to a very small child.

She swivelled her head to look at the sat-nav for several silent seconds before turning to meet his gaze again.

‘The signal has cut out again. We’re on the edge of Dartmoor.’

‘How close to civilisation?’

‘That’s the trouble. We’re not. We’re miles from anywhere.’ He saw her teeth dig into her lower lip as if she were trying to draw blood from it. ‘And there’s no Wi-Fi connection,’ she finished.

Matteo wanted to slam the flat of his hand against the snow-covered window but he sucked in an unsteady breath instead. He needed to take control.

‘Move over,’ he said roughly as he unclipped his seat belt.

She blinked those great big eyes at him. ‘Move over where?’

‘Onto the passenger seat,’ he gritted out as he pushed open the car door to brace himself against a flurry of snowflakes. ‘I’m taking over.’

He was pretty much covered in ice by the time he got into the car and slammed the door shut, and the bizarre thought which stuck in his mind was how deliciously warm the seat felt from where her bottom had been sitting.

Furious for allowing himself to be distracted by something so basic and inappropriate at a time like this, Matteo reached for the ignition key.

‘You do know not to press down too hard on the accelerator, don’t you?’ she said nervously. ‘Or you’ll make the wheels spin.’

‘I don’t think I need any driving lessons from someone as incompetent as you,’ he retorted. He started the engine and tried moving forward. Nothing. He tried until he was forced to surrender to the inevitable, which deep down he’d known all along. They were well and truly stuck and the car wasn’t going anywhere. He turned to the woman sitting beside him who was staring at him nervously from beneath her peaked cap.

‘So. Bravo,’ he said, his words steeped in an anger he could no longer contain. ‘You’ve managed to get us stranded in one of the most inhospitable parts of the country on one of the most inhospitable nights of the year—just before Christmas. That’s some feat!’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Saying sorry isn’t going to help.’

‘I’ll probably get the sack,’ she whispered.

‘You will if I have anything to do with it—that’s if you don’t freeze to death first!’ he snapped. ‘If it were down to me, I would never have employed you in the first place. But the consequences to your career are the last thing on my mind right now. We need to start working out what we’re going to do next.’

She reached into the glove compartment for her mobile phone but he wasn’t surprised to see her grimace as she glanced down at the small screen. ‘No signal,’ she said, looking up.

‘You don’t say?’ he said sarcastically, peering out of the window where the howling flakes showed no signs of abating. ‘I’m guessing there’s no nearby village?’