The Italian Billionaire's New Year Bride

She gave a weak smile. “I kind of got snowed in. My Mini wouldn’t move. The wheels just kept spinning in the snow. They couldn’t get any grip.”

She looked down at the bedding around her, and pulled a face as if she realized how inappropriate it might look. “I’m sorry about this. I came down here because I was cold. We’ll need to check the boilers. Once I’d lit the fire and had something to eat, I just closed my eyes for a second and...” Her voice tailed off, then she let out a little laugh and pulled her knees up to her chest. “But isn’t this the perfect place to spend New Year’s?”

The heat from the room reached out toward Matteo. The fire was inviting. But the sleepy-eyed woman seemed even more so. It was the expression on her face when she said those words. Any other woman that Matteo had been involved with would have made a song and dance about New Year’s Eve and parties. More than once he’d ended up spending New Year’s dressed in a tuxedo and celebrating with people he barely knew, as the woman on his arm complained about her shoes and drank more champagne. He wasn’t at all sorry not to be in that situation this year.

Phoebe, in her casual clothes, with pizza and a bed in front of the fire, was like a revelation.

He stepped inside. Phoebe gave a rueful smile and held up the pizza box. “Can I offer you some cold pizza? The delivery guy managed to get here, so pizza—” she looked around “—and soda is all I can offer you.”

Matteo shook his head. “I didn’t come here for food.”

“Oh, what did you come for?”

The question was innocent. He knew that. But it sent up all his defenses. “Just something for the family.”

Phoebe looked at him curiously as she pushed herself to her feet. “Can I help you?”

She moved over toward him, obviously feeling self-conscious as she tugged at her clothes. “Not the most professional-looking—I know. But, sometimes dressing homes isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Sometimes I just get down on my hands and knees and scrub floors.”

Something flared in his mind. A few years ago he’d sold another property. The interior designer hired then had swanned around in a suit and heels with her hair swept up in a bun, a scarf around her neck and a clipboard permanently in her hand. Ms. Dragon, as he’d nicknamed her, wouldn’t ever dream of getting her hands dirty. She was too busy ordering her minions about. There was something reassuring about knowing how committed to the job Phoebe was.

Phoebe tilted her head to the side and a waft of roses seemed to reach out toward him. It took him a few seconds to realize the scent was coming from her. Had she just showered? “It’s late. Couldn’t what you need wait until morning?” Phoebe turned and walked to the window, pulling back the shutters and looking at the white landscape outside. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up just as stranded as me.”

Matteo walked up behind her, standing a little closer than he should. The scent of roses was definitely coming from her. Fresh and light, it was almost intoxicating. Maybe it was the heat from the fire? Or maybe it was just his lack of sleep catching up with him. But something was sending all his senses into overload.

“What brought you to the library?” Matteo looked around the room. It was darker than the rest of the house, mainly because of the polished mahogany lining the shelves and walls. The only splash of color came from the wingback chairs covered in deep red velvet and the thick red rug in front of the fire. The shelves were lined with a myriad hardback books in a variety of shades that Matteo had never even looked at.

Phoebe held up her hands, her eyes sparkling. “It’s the most beautiful room in the house. I love it.” She walked over to the old-style moving steps. “Have you any idea how excited I was when I saw these? It’s like every bookworm’s dream. All these books. And these stairs? I could spend all day, every day in this room.” She held up her hands in front of her chest. “I mean, imagine having a library in your house?” Her enthusiasm practically emanated from every pore.

Matteo leaned back against the wall. He’d never really thought about the library at all. He hadn’t had any interest in it as a five-year-old—he’d been much more excited by the tennis court and swimming pool in the grounds of the house. But the enthusiasm brimming from Phoebe was almost infectious. He walked over and ran his hand across the spines of some of the books. The library had that old-world sort of smell. The kind you either loved—or hated.

Most of the books looked like encyclopedia-style volumes. He gave a smile. “Remember the world before the Internet, when you actually had to go to a library and search in a book when you wanted to find out something?”

Phoebe nodded. She was staring at the books in front of her. “Two seconds, that’s how long it takes now to search for something. Think of the hours you had to spend before.”

She was still smiling as she pulled one of the books from the shelf. “Some of these books look demure. But looks can be deceiving.” There was a glint in her eye as she let the book fall open in her hands.

Matteo was curious and walked toward her. The heat in the room was building and he shrugged off his jacket. His eyes widened as he looked at the illustrations in the book and choked with laughter. He leaned closer and frowned. “Can people even get in that position?”

Phoebe met his gaze with a glint in her eye. “Only if you’re a contortionist. I’m assuming these books belonged to the previous owner?”

Matteo nodded his head. He couldn’t help but smile. “Melinda Mulrooney had a reputation for being demure. Seems like there was much more to her than met the eye.”

Phoebe smiled as she closed the book and slid it back into place. She turned back toward Matteo and bit her lip. “I’m sorry that I’m here. Obviously, I didn’t mean to be.”

Matteo shrugged. “It’s fine.” He glanced at the heap of bedclothes on the floor. “But don’t you want to sleep in a bed?”

“I would have—but it was a little cold upstairs. And what with the fire down here and—” she held out her hands “—all these wonderful books. I kind of decided that this was all the entertainment a girl could need.”

The sentence was light-hearted but their gazes connected as she said the last few words. It seemed to hang in the air between them. Against the crackle of the fire in the background he could almost hear the sizzle in the air. His skin buzzed and blood rushed to parts at the rate of a Grand Prix driver racing around Le Mans. He was holding his breath without even realizing it, and as Phoebe’s tongue slipped from her mouth and slid along her bottom lip it glistened in the dim light. There was a roaring in his ears. What on earth was happening between them? After the longest pause, Phoebe pulled her eyes away from his. It was excruciating.

“I’ve made up a few of the rooms. If you need to stay too—it should be comfortable.” She pulled a face. “It just might not be too warm.”

Matteo looked out of the window, trying not to let his brain go to the place it wanted to right now. Stay here? With Phoebe? The snow was falling even heavier now. The very last thing he wanted was to be stranded in this house. It didn’t matter that this room was warm and in

viting. It didn’t matter that the house was solid, that there was food and there were beds. It was this place. For him, the heat level was irrelevant; he would always feel a chill just being here.

Phoebe reached up and touched his arm. Her warm fingertips sent a jolt through him. “Hey, you came to find something. Want some help?”

“No.”

The word came out before he had time to think and Phoebe jerked backward.

“Sorry,” he said quickly as he ran his hand through his hair. He was being ridiculous. Even he knew that. He was looking for an album he’d never seen, in a house with dozens of rooms and a million cupboards. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And help should be gratefully received.

His stomach growled loudly. Phoebe pressed her lips together. “Unless you went grocery shopping, it’s cold pizza, or cold pizza.”

He nodded and sighed. “I guess it’s cold pizza, then.” He walked over and sat down on the rug in front of the fire. The snow had started to pile against the window. His stomach gave a flip as he realized there was no way he was getting out of here.

He looked down at the pizza. “What is this?”

Phoebe gave him a challenging look. “It’s a mega meat feast with spicy hot sauce.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why did you think I needed the soda?”

He nodded and licked his lips. “Okay then. I took you for a Hawaiian kind of girl.”

“Ouch. Hawaiian is for wimps.”

Matteo took a bite of the pizza. Within a few seconds the hot sauce hit his taste buds and his eyes started to water. “Wow.” It came out kind of high pitched and he followed it with a deep, hearty laugh and a cough.