Chapter Two #3
Already panicked and in a rush, just in case another just-in-case moment happened and he came in just as she was reading all about him, not that anyone could blame her, Georgie merely glanced at the highlights, which seemed to be scores of pictures of him with a varying line-up of sexy women clinging to him like limpets.
Then she slammed shut her laptop and took a few moments to look around her.
The space eclipsed everything she had seen in the chalet.
Same floor-to-ceiling windows but with a massive uber-modern fireplace that anchored the room.
The bed was enormous, with a plush headboard and linen that was, as she swept her hand over it, soft and silky.
Definitely eight-million thread count. There was a dressing room and then the bathroom, which she ignored because she wasn’t going to be using it.
She’d already spotted separate facilities off the sitting area in which she would be sleeping.
The sitting area itself was large enough for a huge cream sectional sofa and oversized armchairs, which framed yet another fireplace with a flat-screen TV to the side.
There was even an outside terrace with private access to a hot tub. Very swish, considering it would be used only once in a blue moon.
Georgie knew where everything was in the chalet. She fetched bed linen and made up the sectional sofa quickly and efficiently, but could she relax and actually get to sleep? No.
She wondered what he would have told his ex about her absence from the scene.
In his high-octane world, women were probably there to be seen and not heard.
As an ex-wife, she was probably used to that, poor woman.
Maybe she had once been fiery and independent but had ended up squashed and subdued.
Maybe that was why she remained so bitter and angry.
From the little she had seen, Alessandro Barbieri was forceful, arrogant and commanding. She thought that he was probably very good at making women angry.
He was also stupendously good-looking, a little voice reminded her. She killed that thought by fetching her book and reading, but her head refused to allow her to concentrate and even after she’d slipped into her pyjamas, she still couldn’t find sleep.
It was after eleven by the time her eyes began to feel heavy. She had long ago switched off the little light on the table by the sofa. On the verge of finally nodding off, she heard the door open and there he was, a tall, dark, muscular silhouette with the light from the corridor behind him.
Georgie’s breath hitched. She kept as still as possible, huddled under the duvet she had fetched, and watched as he strolled through the door, spun round to lock it behind him and then absently began unbuttoning his shirt.
He’d cast a quick glance at her and hadn’t turned on any lights, but every room in the chalet was designed to let the outside in and, right now, outside, a full moon was lovingly outlining a fabulous body.
He didn’t take the shirt off once all the buttons were undone and she could see the movement of his muscled body where the shirt no longer covered his torso. He strolled towards the small space where a coffee machine was housed, along with a cream retro-styled fridge and a bar area with glasses.
When he stopped to drink from the bottled water he had removed from the fridge, Georgie forgot how to breathe.
She resented that.
Why weren’t her memories protecting her from staring at Alessandro Barbieri? How could she have sidestepped the lessons she had learnt after Hans?
The slopes of Val d’Isère and the camaraderie of all the ski instructors out here felt like a dream now.
All of them, the instructors and the girls who worked in the chalets and the young people working through gap years at the hotels and resorts…
they’d all come from different parts of the world, but they’d bonded through their shared love of skiing.
Georgie had loved it. Boys and girls and having fun when they weren’t working.
And Hans had been part of that group, tall, blond, beautiful Hans.
They’d started going out in a loose kind of way, sometimes on their own, often part of the group and then more seriously.
Very quickly, Georgie had fallen hook, line and sinker for his ready smile and his charm and the way his blue eyes crinkled when he laughed.
For the first time in her life, she’d actually felt as though she was no longer one of the lads.
She’d felt special and sexy and feminine and in love.
She’d forgotten the adolescent heartache of fancying a boy, really wanting him to notice her, catching his smiles and passing affectionate-slap-on-the-shoulder compliments like precious gems and hugging them to herself only to realise that, to him, she was just a good mate.
Hans had felt different, had made her feel different.
So much in love that her thoughts had turned to a future together.
He planned on becoming a lawyer. He hadn’t scoffed when she’d teased him about moving to London instead of remaining in Holland.
She’d pictured him fitting right in with her family.
She’d been overwhelmed by the urge to follow in her sisters’ footsteps and settle down.
Georgie remembered what it had felt like at that big Christmas party, everyone dancing and drinking and laughing. She’d gone to get them a drink and then she’d spotted him, dangling a stupid bit of mistletoe over his head and kissing a cute redhead who’d joined the team a couple of weeks back.
She’d frozen on the spot, then their eyes had met and, in that instant, she had seen just how wrong she’d been about them as a couple. He’d pulled back and winked at her and she’d known that he had never thought of them as an exclusive couple.
That had been the worst bit. She’d been nothing to him but a bit of fun and if he could have fun with her, he could have fun with other girls.
She’d laughed and pretended that it was all just fine because she was as much of a free spirit as he was, but she’d been breaking inside.
She’d told only Alison. Only Alison had known how hurt she’d been and how fragile everything had become after that.
Hans had still been the same old Hans and nothing had been said, but they’d mutually drifted away from one another and then Alison had left, back to Whistler, and, just when Georgie had been on the verge of packing it all in and heading back to England, that call from her had come.
A job where she worked in Whistler. Would she take it? Georgie hadn’t thought twice.
And everything had been fine until now, until this man had appeared and thrown everything into tumultuous confusion by making her think about herself, once again, as a young girl with needs and urges and not the ice maiden she’d tried to become.
She hated how a stranger, an arrogant, blackmailing stranger, could make her feel against all her better judgement, how he could make her forget that she had to be careful with her emotions.
She wasn’t going to let him see that he affected her.
She would be herself. She would say exactly what she thought.
She wasn’t going to be awed by him. Treat him just like anyone else and he wasn’t going to be a threat to her peace of mind.
Right now, he was walking towards her, checking to see whether she was asleep, and she duly shut her eyes, forced herself to breathe in a convincingly steady rhythm and then released one long breath when she heard his bedroom door shut behind him.
‘What are you doing?’
Standing by the sectional sofa and scanning her phone for emails or messages, Georgie started at the sound of Alessandro’s voice behind her.
She spun round to find him lounging against the doorframe in a pair of black trousers and a long-sleeved black tee shirt that defined his lean, muscled torso in a way that sent her imagination off on a crazy, magical mystery tour.
‘What do you mean?’ She dragged her eyes away from him and glanced around her. ‘I’ve made sure to tidy everything and I’ve stashed the linen in the cupboard.’
‘What are you wearing?’
‘I’m wearing…’ Georgie frowned, confused ‘…clothes?’
‘You’re wearing ski gear.’
‘I’m back to work today. You asked last night what else I did apart from cleaning your chalet once a week, just before you told me that you weren’t interested anyway, but now that you ask? Answer… I coach kids on the slopes.’
Georgie reached for her backpack and began checking through it and when she looked up it was to find Alessandro towering over her.
‘How does your going into work begin to make sense? Sophia thinks we’re a loving couple. Oddly she doesn’t think that you’re a ski instructor at a resort a mile away. You won’t be going into work until she disappears, which won’t be for another couple of hours.’
‘But it’s nearly eight and I have to head over to get things going—’
‘Remember what I said about playing along with this because, honestly, it’s by far the better option?’
Georgie gritted her teeth. ‘How could I forget?’ she muttered in a driven undertone and when she slid her eyes to his face it was to see him smiling coolly at her. ‘Are you going to remind me again that I’m an intruder and you’ll have me sent to prison if I don’t comply with what you want?’
‘No, we can move past that. What else do you have to wear in your bag of tricks? If you let me have your phone, I’ll call your boss and inform him or her that you won’t be in until later.’
‘I can do that myself,’ Georgie said, mentally resigned. He’d folded his arms and she caught herself staring at the bulge of rippling muscle, taut under the tight long-sleeved tee shirt. She tore her eyes away. ‘I’ll put my joggers back on.’
‘No, no, no,’ Alessandro tut-tutted. ‘The joggers were a little teasing welcome outfit. This morning…something else will have to make an appearance.’
Georgie stared at him. ‘Something else like what?’
‘Hmmm…now let me have a think.’ Alessandro lowered his eyes.
He realised that he was enjoying their sparky conversation.
Actually, he was enjoying looking at her as well.
She was in a maroon thermal bodysuit with a half-zip up the front and the thermal leggings showed off legs that hadn’t been on show earlier when she’d swept past the sitting room in a world of her own.
Shapely legs. Slender. Slender legs, slender waist, all that long, tangly blonde hair and those big brown eyes.
His eyes dipped to her breasts and he flushed, surprised at his lapse in self-control.
‘I guess you’re looking for the sort of sexy outfit a woman might wear to impress you?’
‘Not necessarily…’
‘I googled images of you. I saw the sort of women you go out with. I’m afraid I don’t have any skimpy clothes to hand. Miniskirts and skintight Lycra dresses are impractical for coaching kids on the ski slopes.’
Alessandro grinned, suddenly amused despite the stress of the situation.
‘Okay. I’ll leave it up to you. Sophia will be on her way out, not that that will stop her noting every inch of your appearance.’
‘Did you…manage to sort out whatever it was that needed sorting out?’
For a second, Georgie thought that he wasn’t going to answer and who could blame him, considering it was none of her business, but eventually his eyes cooled and he shot her a thin, humourless smile.
‘I expect to get what I’m after.’
‘Oh, good.’ That smile said it all about a man who always got what he wanted.
She wished she’d read a bit more about him, although, from the little she’d glimpsed and aside from the images, the information seemed to be largely a boring chronological, detailed account of business deals and company takeovers.
‘I’ll leave you and your imagination to come up with an outfit that’s a little less casual than jogging bottoms, shall I?’
He moved towards the door and threw over his shoulder, in a dry postscript, ‘We’ll be in the kitchen and I’m guessing there’s no need for me to tell you where that is.’
Georgie flushed. ‘I’ll head down as soon as I’ve changed into suitable clothing from the little supply I brought with me.’
‘Fifteen minutes. And as before, Georgie? Leave the talking to me.’