WARM WINTER KISSES a feel good Christmas romance novel Read Free Page B

adventures. That would please them.
    Through the cluster of tables, I could see into the busy kitchen at the back. There was no mistaking Rocco, a powerhouse of a man, prowling his way back and forth like a lion surveying his jungle, throwing orders around in the air and roaring instructions.
    ‘Yes, chef!’ sang his harassed team, running around frantically at his every instruction.
    Well, it might have been, ‘ Yes, chef. No, chef. Three bags full, chef ,’ as far as they were concerned, but it wasn’t going to be that way with me. Forty-five minutes was long enough to wait for anyone. If I wanted to feel neglected and humiliated, I could quite happily do that in the privacy of my home.
    I was just reaching for my handbag and attempting to prise myself out of the sofa when I became aware of the dark shadow that fell across me. I looked up to see a pair of the most intense bedtime eyes boring into me.
    ‘Going somewhere?’ asked the man himself, expressionless.
    ‘Oh, hello,’ I said, gulping, trying and failing to get up. Spread-eagled on the cushions, I wondered if Rocco had chosen the sofa specially. I tugged at my pencil skirt, pulling it down my stockinged thighs before managing to say, ‘I was just checking I had the right time.’
    He raised his eyebrows. ‘You may want to come over to the table,’ he said, turning his back to me. ‘You’ll find it more comfortable.’
    Moments later, after readjusting my clothing and my breathing, I joined him as he sat drumming his fingers impatiently on a pile of folders.
    ‘So,’ he said, unearthing a scrap of paper. ‘Beth Brown.’ His eyes appraised me. ‘The agency tells me you’re the best PA on their books.’ He paused, giving me the benefit of that stare again and, I must admit, it sent a little shiver through my body. The sort of shiver I hadn’t felt in a long time. ‘I bloody well hope so,’ he continued. ‘I need someone who’s going to sort out all this crap.’ He lifted up the pile of papers and let them fall in a heap. ‘Did they brief you on what you’ll be doing for the next three months?’
    ‘Er, no,’ I said, realising I didn’t have the faintest clue what I was doing here. I leaned forward attempting to at least appear interested in his wretched job.
    ‘Right.’ The look was scathing and the tone brusque. Clearly unamused, he continued, ‘I’m starting work on a new TV series next week which hopefully will go out next spring. We’re putting together a book to go with it. Obviously a lot of the planning and background work has been done already, so it’s just a case of completing the filming and photography for the book. All the details are here. Production schedules. Contact details. Locations.’ He pushed the papers over to my side of the table. ‘Trouble is, I’ve got quite a lot on up here too, so I’ll be travelling back and forth pretty regularly. I need you to keep track of what I should be doing and when. Making certain that what needs to happen is happening.’ He paused. I quickly realised that he was a master of the long, lingering look. His eyes stayed fixed rigidly upon my face. It was most unnerving.
    ‘That’s about it really. Anything you need to know just ask.’
    ‘A TV series?’
    ‘Yep,’ he said, casting a disapproving glance into the kitchen as a clash of crockery resounded through the room. ‘It’s something I’ve wanted to do for some time now, to take a step back from all of this.’ He lifted his arms, gesturing around him. ‘To rediscover what it was that led me here in the first place. I’ve always had a passion for the country. For good home cooking with the best natural ingredients.’
    Looking at him now, leaning across the table, his hands cupping his face, his passion was palpable. At close quarters I was able to reassess my first impression of him. The resemblance to a wild animal was still there, but the hungry look in his eyes, the colour of liquid chocolate, reminded me more